Somewhere in a tranquil town in Denmark—so quiet that it truly lives up to its name, “Stillinge Strand”—I’m sitting on the patio of a classic Danish vacation home, looking out at a meticulously manicured lawn. The robotic lawn mower regularly rolls out of its homemade doghouse to bring even the shortest blade of grass back into line. It uses what’s known as the “chaos principle,” which, according to a Gemini study, appears to be the most effective and gentlest method on the lawn. The fact that it zigs and zags wildly might drive some efficiency-driven planners to despair, but there’s nothing to be done about it. The robotic lawn mower is supported by the “crazy lady next door,” who keeps the strip of lawn next to her driveway—which runs right past our garden—just as meticulously as our Robodoggy does. When nothing and no one is mowing, you don’t really hear a thing. Birds chirp, and every now and then a car creeps along the adjacent gravel path. If the wind is right, you can hear children playing on the Baltic Sea beach within walking distance—one of THE most beautiful and best swimming beaches in all of West Zealand. The main attraction is “Vikingeborgen” Trelleborg, 15 minutes away—a ring fort in the center of which longhouses once stood in a symmetrical arrangement, now marked only by concrete blocks.
If there were still such a thing as a perfect world, it would probably be here.
But who or what would bring a globetrotter like me to this tranquil family vacation spot? My parents. Loyal readers of my blog know that my parents and I “battled” our way through the “street wars” in Copenhagen last year. That’s where the idea to go back to Denmark together was born, and it lingered in the back of my mind until it became clear where my journey from Tenerife would take me. It’s now official: I’ll be spending the next (at least) 1.5 months in the Baltic States. And so, after a two-week stopover in Germany—which I was thankfully able to spend with my best friend (yes, Susl, here it is in black and white) and her wonderful patchwork family—I hit the road with my parents, heading north.
Today I have a reason to celebrate: I’ve been traveling for half a year now. What feels like just a few weeks has already turned into six months. Time to take stock:
Awesome stuff!
That would be my summary. So it’s no surprise that I could really only gush to everyone I met, and every time someone asked if I’d ever come back, I just gave an indecisive shrug. Unfortunately, I enjoy traveling, meeting new people, and the feeling of constantly broadening my horizons far too much not to consider traveling more—or even traveling exclusively.
This longing to travel was further fueled by my first experience standing in a German line at the airport—something I had successfully avoided for the past five months.
"Why isn't the baggage check-in open yet?"
"Why are there only two counters?"
"ENTSCHULDIGUNG! You're not trying to cut in line, are you?!"
It had been a long time since I’d experienced so much tension all at once and felt so out of place at the same time.
I’ve had this feeling about Germany for a long time now. No matter where you listen or read, it feels like the country is doomed. Has anyone ever stopped to think that we’ve hit the jackpot in the birth lottery and that probably 90% of the world’s population would trade places with us? And all without even having bought a single ticket ourselves beforehand. Admittedly, I’m not affected by most of the problems and measures. I don’t have any children to worry about yet, etc., but maybe that’s exactly what makes me a more neutral observer?
What speaks in favor of a return—and always will—is my family, friends, and everyone else who’s close to my heart. It was nice to see as many of them as possible, even if at times I felt like I was back in my wildest Tinder days, when it felt like I was dating someone different every night (yeah, I was younger back then—okay, fine). “How’s it going?” – “How was it?” – “And how are things with you guys?” – “Oh, same old, same old…” It’s understandable, of course, and partly due to the short time I was there, but I was also glad that I’m back to being on my own for now.
I like being alone.
Looking back on the last six months, I’ve not only had a great time, but I’ve also learned a lot about myself and my way of life. I started out with the idea of being spontaneous and flexible—traveling wherever, whenever, and however I wanted. But then, as if to immediately take away this newfound flexibility, I’d already fully booked and planned out the first five months—from South Africa to Morocco and all the way to Tenerife. I probably would have skipped Morocco since I was having trouble with my flight anyway, but then I wouldn’t have discovered what a beautiful country Morocco is outside the cities. There it is again:
A medal with two sides.
When I set off for the Baltic States on Saturday, I won't have planned or booked anything else, and I'm looking forward to that sense of uncertainty!
We'll see where the wind takes me; I'll be sure to tell you all about it…
