First, the bad news!
Just to to be clear on one thing: My mom and me argue when travelling. And we argue hard. Seriously, all hell breaks loose if we do not agree where to park the car on a camping site. We slam car doors over a couple of centimetres on a grassy patch.
But honestly, I’d be concerned if we didn’t. We’re mother and daughter. I always think I know better. She knows better. That’s just the way it is. I just wanted to mention this to not create a false illusion over all the magic that will follow in this post. Cause I hear from a lot of people that they could never travel long with any of their parents. And that’s fine. I’m just saying that with me and my mom it’s not always peace and pancakes either. So this might even be good news to someone.
Why do I travel with my mother?
I guess the occasional wellness and shopping weekend here and there is something almost every daughter has done with her mother. But here dad is gone. It has been five years today. It has not broken our family but the family we took for granted for such a long time has been ripped apart and put back together in a different way. She and Dad travelled a lot. But now it’s not like parents and children anymore. Not like like them and us. It’s almost 30 years between us but life decided we could be best travel buddies in this new family picture. So why stop travelling? It feels like we need to do this now more than ever.
In these five years we’ve done a lot together. We’ve cruised the Caribbean with my sister, we’ve visited New York and Toronto with my brother, we’ve done endless Wellness weekends and city trips, we go back to Stockholm again and again and again, we’ve chased the northern lights, road-tripped Lofoten Islands and the North Cape and our imaginary bucket list (we do not have an official one, just a bunch of loose dreams) is endless.
It’s more than just the same wavelength
Don’t get me wrong, there is a couple of people that I like to travel with (and I have experienced incredible moments with them) but I feel that what me and my mom share when we’re on our way is on a completely different level.
Yes, we are on the same wavelength concerning a lot of things. We love Scandinavia. We love camping. We love good food… you know what I mean.
But it feels like on top of it there is a special kind of magic between us when travelling. A silent agreement about what we expect our journey to be like. Like pieces of a puzzle just falling into the right place the moment we hit the road. I do not even know how it happens or why…
My dream is your dream is our dream
I think both of us are just very good in igniting the spark of a dream in the other. We know that something we have been dreaming about will very probably be something the other one will like, too. Because we know that we often savour the same moments.
So my mom wanted to go on a Hurtigruten boat for a long time while I had (shame on me) never really been thinking about it. Maybe because it is not really something you do on a student budget. Anyway, I thought it was a good idea, we hit the website, we fit it into our North Cape road trip and then we’re finally in Trondheim, ready to board the MS Finnmarken.
And that day when we both finally get to set foot on a Hurtigruten vessel for the first time in our lives, my mom’s dream has long become my dream, too. I am just as excited as she is and we celebrate those few steps across the jetty like some historic event. And then in the middle of the night we’re on deck, admiring the midnight sun, wine, beer, Lofoten Islands… Hurtigruten, supposedly the most beautiful sea voyage on earth, takes our breath away. And it feels like both of us have been dreaming about this for 100 years.
Closer to heaven
Dad died of cancer on October 10th 2012. I will always remember that we wrote something incredibly beautiful on his obituary: “Every sunset and every sound of the sea will remind us of you.” And it does. Everyday. And everywhere.
And maybe this is what we’re after. Endless Summers. Hitting the road. Traveling north. Chasing the midnight sun. Dancing with the polar lights. Nothing brings us as close to heaven as that. It gives us a beautiful heartache, both painful and pleasant. Like a drug. Again and again and again.