When life gives you lemons...
I just walked past a palm tree, but it was not in Hong Kong, where Michael and I had been planning to spend this Autumn. The tree, I walked by, is standing on the harbor in a windswept, small, Danish fishing village
How come I'm here?
Well, as they say, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans
The other day, hours before our planned departure for our several months long stay in Hong Kong, I visited my doctor for a routine check-up - and I was immediately put up for further examinations, as my blood pressure turned out to be pretty high
We thought it would just postpone my flight for a couple of days and Michael took the scheduled flight out to arrange everything in the Hong Kong apartment, we had rented.
Now it turns out, my high blood pressure needs some medication - and the doctors have forbidden me to travel for some time.
What to do?
Our flat was sublet to another family, the Danish autumn had set in and my suitcase consisted of light summer clothes for use in the tropics!
I was freezing and homeless and, to top the list, my electric toothbrush stopped working, because the charger was now in Hong Kong with Michael. ;-).
Just then, my family stepped up to bat! The first few days I stayed with our daughter in her tiny apartment and now my mother has offered me to crash up with her until our renters can depart our apartment (they were actually willing to do that!) and Michael (and the toothbrush charger!) can find an early return from HK.
My mother lives way up at the northern tip of the Danish peninsula Jutland. Her village, Strandby, is a fishing harbor surrounded by empty beaches and dunes for miles upon miles.
Now I've been taking good care of. I have room and board - and go for long walks along the sea. The repetitive sound of the waves, the shrieks of the seagulls, and the wind are SO soothing.
Any stressful thoughts are blown away. That alone must have a good influence on my blood pressure!
I wonder, looking at the sea, how something so fluid as water can make such a sharp angle when the waves form and disappear. Often I find myself gazing into the waves and forgetting everything around me.
I look for amber knowing that I will not find any. People around here know exactly when the wind is coming from the right direction and the waves bring in the northern gold, as it is called.
Today, I find only the empty shells of mussels and cockles, some seaweed, and a few bits of waterlogged timber.
Windswept in mind and body I come home and it's nice and warm inside. The cup of tea stands ready.
It occurs to me that I should reread Saint-Exupéry's "Wind, sand, and stars" - the title alone is so appropriate for the last few days!
Luckily, it is to be found on my mothers' bookshelf and now I sit, with the book in my lap, thinking that although my change of plans might not have been made by choice, this is definitely not the worst place to be.
One question remains, though: Who the heck got the crazy idea of planting palm trees on the quays of a bitterly cold, almost semi-arctic, Danish fishing port?
The other day, hours before our planned departure for our several months long stay in Hong Kong, I visited my doctor for a routine check-up - and I was immediately put up for further examinations, as my blood pressure turned out to be pretty high
We thought it would just postpone my flight for a couple of days and Michael took the scheduled flight out to arrange everything in the Hong Kong apartment, we had rented.
Now it turns out, my high blood pressure needs some medication - and the doctors have forbidden me to travel for some time.
What to do?
Our flat was sublet to another family, the Danish autumn had set in and my suitcase consisted of light summer clothes for use in the tropics!
I was freezing and homeless and, to top the list, my electric toothbrush stopped working, because the charger was now in Hong Kong with Michael. ;-).
Just then, my family stepped up to bat! The first few days I stayed with our daughter in her tiny apartment and now my mother has offered me to crash up with her until our renters can depart our apartment (they were actually willing to do that!) and Michael (and the toothbrush charger!) can find an early return from HK.
My mother lives way up at the northern tip of the Danish peninsula Jutland. Her village, Strandby, is a fishing harbor surrounded by empty beaches and dunes for miles upon miles.
Now I've been taking good care of. I have room and board - and go for long walks along the sea. The repetitive sound of the waves, the shrieks of the seagulls, and the wind are SO soothing.
Any stressful thoughts are blown away. That alone must have a good influence on my blood pressure!
I wonder, looking at the sea, how something so fluid as water can make such a sharp angle when the waves form and disappear. Often I find myself gazing into the waves and forgetting everything around me.
I look for amber knowing that I will not find any. People around here know exactly when the wind is coming from the right direction and the waves bring in the northern gold, as it is called.
Today, I find only the empty shells of mussels and cockles, some seaweed, and a few bits of waterlogged timber.
Windswept in mind and body I come home and it's nice and warm inside. The cup of tea stands ready.
It occurs to me that I should reread Saint-Exupéry's "Wind, sand, and stars" - the title alone is so appropriate for the last few days!
Luckily, it is to be found on my mothers' bookshelf and now I sit, with the book in my lap, thinking that although my change of plans might not have been made by choice, this is definitely not the worst place to be.
One question remains, though: Who the heck got the crazy idea of planting palm trees on the quays of a bitterly cold, almost semi-arctic, Danish fishing port?
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