Etikett: camping life

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On the Road to Stillness – A Motorhome Weekend in Sweden and Thoughts Along the Way

Sometimes a motorhome weekend in Sweden begins long before the engine starts.
That’s the case this time – with freshly washed curtains, a living room that suddenly feels more harmonious, and a weekend waiting to be filled with both stillness and small adventures.

For those of you who follow my blog, the week has also brought other reflections – from the latest part of the Oskar Series to my post on ADHD in Everyday Life – Burnt Butter, Wardrobe Projects and Brave Steps. And did you know I now blog in both Swedish and English? Read this post in Swedish → På väg mot stillhet – en husbilshelg i Sverige och tankar längs vägen


The Journey That Began Yesterday

Even though we haven’t left the driveway yet, the motorhome weekend in Sweden really began yesterday. Not with driving away, but with those small preparations that set the tone.
I put a few things into the motorhome – nothing big, but still the bits that needed to be in place.

Then I decided to buy curtains. Fresh, new curtains. And not only that – I also decided to wash them before they had even been hung. My poor husband had to help, even though he was tired after work. But now they’re up in the living room, and the whole space feels different.

New green curtains in the living room, hung while still damp to dry straight, with plants and a cat tree in front of the windows.

New curtains – hung straight from the washing machine. Damp curtains dry neatly and let in just the right amount of light.

Grandma’s table now stands neatly with a cloth in the same fabric. No piles, no sketchpads – just a bare, beautiful table. It’s a rare feeling, as that table is usually both a dumping ground and an art desk. But today I decided: if I want to draw, I’ll go down to the basement and bring up my art supplies. This way, we won’t have corners of the house turning into workspaces whenever the mood strikes.

Freshly cleaned dining table with a green tablecloth, neatly set without clutter – ready for the weekend’s motorhome trip.
Clean table before the motorhome weekendGrandma’s table – for once without piles or sketchpads. Ready for a weekend with more calm than clutter.
Dining table covered with everyday items – magazines, pens, cereal container, and art supplies – as it usually looks.
This is how the table usually looks – full of everyday life and ongoing projects.

New Curtains, New Calm

We even got new curtains in the bedroom. Freshly washed and still damp when I hung them – my trick to avoid ironing. They dry straight and smooth in place, and the room suddenly feels both lighter and fresher.

However, this post isn’t really about curtains – it’s about the fact that we’re heading off today.


Back to Hanatorp

We simply couldn’t get enough of Hanatorp, so we’re taking another trip there. My husband’s brother is there, and they wanted to spend some time together. I don’t know what “cousin vitamin” has planned for the weekend, but if they’re there, they’ll definitely get a hello.

Since this is the last weekend before school starts, it feels extra special to get away. After this, it’ll just be Fridays or Saturdays, depending on how tired everyone is.


The Weekend Plan

This weekend, I intend to enjoy myself. Relax. Blog. And, of course, keep developing the Oskar Series. Perhaps I’ll add a few lines here and there, somewhere between my coffee cup and the evening sunset.


What Readers Are Enjoying Right Now

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A Question for You

Where do you find your stillness?
By the sea, at a campsite, on the sofa with a cup of tea – or perhaps when you give yourself permission to simply be?
Share in the comments; I’d love to hear from you.


Reflection

It’s strange how small things can change the feeling of an entire home.
A pair of new curtains, a clear table – and suddenly it feels like I’ve made more space, not just in the room but in my mind as well. This weekend, I want to take that feeling with me on the road. To let it remind me that sometimes it only takes small changes to set life in a new direction.


Between the Lines – My Voice

This isn’t really about curtains, Hanatorp, or even the motorhome.
It’s about creating space for what matters. About choosing less clutter so I can enjoy the present more. And about giving myself time – both at home and while traveling – to simply breathe.


”Yesterday has already settled into history, tomorrow waits further ahead. But right now – this is where life happens.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson


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Will It Be a Motorhome Weekend in the Autumn Storm with LVL² – or Not?

Friday again. I’m sitting here with thoughts spinning – should we take the motorhome LVL² out this weekend, despite autumn storms, or not? I want to go. However, at the same time, I want to stay home. The season is drawing to a close. Nevertheless, there’s still time for several more trips before winter takes over.

Read this in Swedish →Blir det husbilshelg i höststorm LVL², eller inte?

Foreword

A warm welcome to you who read my blog – malix.se. It brings me joy every time someone finds their way here and takes the time to read my words. Today, I offer a post that smells of autumn storms, tea, and motorhome thoughts.

The first storm of autumn

This motorhome weekend (if it turns out to be an LVL² weekend) might bring autumn storms and tea in the van. It has been very windy here this week – truly stormy. Even though the wind has calmed down a bit, the curtains on the porch still sway. Furthermore, the weather app says it might blow again this weekend.

When it was at its worst this Tuesday, the wind grabbed the roof of the porch, knocked over chairs, and gave me that anxious feeling in my stomach. I don’t like when nature’s forces grow so strong that I barely dare to go outside.

When you watch videos on TikTok from England – the storm is even worse there. Naturally, that doesn’t ease my worry at all. Now the wind has calmed. Still, I think the autumn storms arrived a bit early. They really could have waited a couple more weeks before dropping by.

Motorhome or cozy weekend at home?

I asked my husband what we should do this weekend. So far, I have no answer. Maybe he’s simply tired after his first workweek following the vacation. I can relate – sometimes it’s just nice to stay home.

But then the thought comes: soon the motorhome season is over for the year. Our motorhome LVL² and I aren’t quite finished with each other yet. We’re in the final stretch now. However, if the weather allows, there might still be many weekends left – perhaps even into October.

A trip to the sea would be lovely – to feel the wind, and maybe even take a swim as the waves roll in after the storm.

Tea, wool socks, and longing

Tea has always been my little everyday luxury. In the motorhome, it’s bagged tea. Nevertheless, it still tastes just as good – perhaps even better, when the cup steams in the small living space and I sit there, enjoying a cozy moment with a warm drink.

tea, candles, and wool socks

Soon we’ll be entering that season when tea, candles, and wool socks become part of everyday life. When the evenings are darker than bright and you can snuggle up with a fire in the basement and a pot of tea beside you. I almost long for that. At the same time, I want to hold on to the last bit of motorhome feeling just a little longer.

Friday feeling

So here I sit now. I want to go – I want to stay. I want to feel the wind by the sea, feel the old sea rolling – I want to sit at home with tea and glowing candles.

höststormar

Lerkil in the wind

Maybe this is what life is. Longing, waiting, and the small moments of now.

We’ll see what the weekend brings. It could be motorhome LVL², or just a cozy weekend here in our little village. Perhaps the sea, perhaps home comforts. And you know what? Either way will probably be good.

Alfred is coming to visit

In a little while, little Alfred is coming to visit. He chose grandma over a day at after-school care. It warmed my heart that he wanted to come over. He’s chosen the day just the way he wants it to be. And that means a trip down to Grandpa’s stash of little candies.

When I told him Grandpa might only have cheese puffs and snus, Alfred thought that maybe Grandpa really ought to stop and buy some chocolate today.

Between the lines – my voice

I don’t always know what I want, but I know I want to feel. Sometimes it’s enough just to sit still in the in-between – between going and staying, between the wind and the tea, between dreams of the sea and the reality here at home. It’s not hesitation. Instead, it’s allowing life to be both.

I’m not in a hurry. I’m not trying to create a perfect weekend. Rather, I’m simply trying to be human – with longing, messy thoughts, and a cup of tea in my hand.

Reflection

It wasn’t the decision that mattered. Instead, it was the space before it. The breathing, the thoughts, the desire to both go and stay. That’s where life happened.

I realize that longing itself is a part of life. Waiting for something and feeling the anticipation is almost as lovely as when it actually happens.

Also read:

The last motorhome trip of the year – Relaxation in Kungshamn
An early morning in Kungshamn

A moment with Ozzy

Here comes a little Ozzy.
Imagine that he got to experience this before he left for the other side.
It’s so beautiful it’s almost impossible to describe – it just goes straight into the heart.
It’s one of those moments you don’t just see, you feel.

What do you think?

Do you have a place you always long for in autumn?

What would you choose – a quiet weekend at home or a short motorhome trip?

Is there a song or an artist that makes you feel everything a little more, just like Ozzy does for me?

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Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Yesterday rests in memories, and tomorrow lies ahead in the future.
It’s here in the now where we experience, feel, and can actually do something.
Problems waiting over there can’t be solved today – except perhaps by trying to prevent them from becoming problems in the first place.

– Carina Ikonen Nilsson


Tags: motorhome, autumn storm, LVL², everyday reflection, tea, camping life, Friday feeling, autumn
Hashtags: #motorhomelife #fridayfeeling #autumnstorm #campinglife #LVL2 #everydayreflection #motorhomeweekend

Oväder i Vallersvik

Morning Coffee in the Motorhome – When Summer Fades and Autumn Begins

Read this post in Swedish→

Introduction

This post is a quiet greeting from the motorhome, with warm coffee in my hands and the last days of summer in view.
It’s about nieces who remind me of life’s playfulness, about a summer slowly wrapping up –
and about finding small moments of joy even when longing still lives in the heart.

Morning Coffee and a Rain That Almost Hurt

Here I am again. The coffee is warm, and my body is slowly waking up after last night’s rain.
It poured down – not a gentle patter on the roof, but more like nails falling from the sky.
But I’m awake now. The coffee warms my hands, and my body awakens, inch by inch.

Two Little Girls and a Reminder About Life

My husband’s brother is staying further down the campsite with two adorable little girls.
They are both Paw Patrol and – as one of them proudly said – mighty.

They showed us their tricks and how fast they could run.
Two bright little souls who, with all their charm, reminded us what life is like as a child:
invincible, playful, and full of imagination.

“I am mighty!” – sometimes that’s all the life philosophy you need.

The Summer Winds Down

Today we are heading home. Unpacking the motorhome.
The vacation is over – a little sad, but somehow also okay.
It’s August 1st, the tail end of summer.

It’s been a lovely summer, though windy and a bit chilly except for the last few weeks.
Many trips with LVL^2, plenty of swims, and countless cozy evenings in the motorhome.
Different from past summers, but fun and full of lessons.
Memories of the summer of 2025.

Autumn Will Be Mine

Now autumn is waiting, and I’ve made up my mind:

  • Swim three days a week in Uddevalla
  • Create a daily routine that brings energy
  • Finish writing Vinghästen, so the story can finally be complete

Maybe I’ll even start my early morning swims again, depending on how the days unfold.

The Quiet Rest of Longing

The sorrow that weighed heavy yesterday has settled down today.
It rests quietly now, no longer quite as heavy.
It’s possible to find joy, even with the longing for my son and grandchildren.

Soon little Emilia has her birthday. Last year she got drawing supplies –
she is so talented at drawing.
This year, I don’t really know what she likes anymore.
Today we’re also buying a present for my daughter’s partner –
that one I’ve already figured out.

Small joys of everyday life weigh more than you think.

Between the Lines

The morning is quiet. My coffee is warm.
This is where I land – in the simple things, in the now,
in the summer just about to turn into autumn.

Closing Words

And so this summer ends – with coffee as my companion and autumn as the next chapter.
Life continues in its gentle rhythm, with swimming laps, writing time,
and small everyday joys that make the heart beat softer.

Quote:
Yesterday has already laid down to rest in history; it can no longer be lived, only remembered.
Tomorrow waits farther ahead, out there in the distance.
But right now – this is where the breath comes, and life happens.
– Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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When You’re Cut Off as a Grandmother – A Quiet Grief That Stays

Read this post in Swedish

Preface
This post is about the late summer slowly approaching, about motorhome life, and about carrying both joy and longing at the same time.
It’s about missing grandchildren, about living with distance in the family – and about love that remains even when paths separate.


When Summer Begins to Fade

Here I am again, in our motorhome. I write as I usually do, but the feeling is different now.
It’s no longer the sparkling energy of spring. Summer is beginning to retreat, even if I don’t want to admit it.
The truth is: we are closer to autumn than to the full bloom of summer.

Autumn can be beautiful in its own way, but I miss those warm evenings that invite quiet joy.
Still, summer is not over yet. There are days left to live, and I remind myself not to give up on them too soon.


An Unexpected Visit and a Quiet Thought

We will stay here at the campsite for another day.
Today I learned that my husband’s brother will visit – a little surprise. It will be nice to meet him.

Yet, other thoughts swirl quietly in the background.

On Instagram, I saw photos of my grandchildren, happy and full of life.
I smiled seeing them laugh, yet my heart felt a small ache.
These are the moments I long to share – but for now, I am a grandmother at a distance.

Sometimes it feels as if the world keeps moving without me.
Life doesn’t always turn out as we wish, but the longing is still there.
Hugo has grown taller, Emilia looks ready to conquer the world, and Alfred I sometimes get to hold close when life allows it.

What carries me is love – it remains, even when I must love from afar.


A Mother’s Love Never Ends

There is nothing I can do to change the situation right now.
All I can do is keep wishing them happiness.

My greatest hope is not for life to go back to the way it was, but for everyone to be well.
I hope my son has a life where he can breathe, laugh, and feel that he chose what was best for him and his children.

I am his mother, and I love him more than words can hold.
That love remains, no matter the distance.


Between the Lines – My Voice

Between the lines, I want to say this:

I am a mother and grandmother carrying both pain and love in the same breath.
I do not shy away from what hurts, but I do not write out of bitterness.
I write to understand, to remain standing, and to keep loving.

And perhaps I also write for you who recognize yourself in these words.
We are more than one carrying this quiet sorrow.
We carry it together – even if we carry it apart.


Reflection

Sometimes, life is about daring to stand in love, even when it is not returned.
I cannot control other people’s choices, but I can choose to keep loving my grandchildren – quietly, from the heart, at a distance.
And maybe, that is enough until the day our paths meet again.

Grief follows no rules. There is no manual for how to handle being cut off .
But it is possible to keep loving, even when the relationship is broken.
To stand in love, even when you get nothing in return.
It’s possible to love – even when love becomes a one-way street.

”Yesterday has already laid itself to rest in history. Tomorrow waits ahead. But right now – this is where life is happening.”
– Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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Beneath the Awning in Borås – When Reality Hits

Läs det här inlägget på svenska

Läs detta inlägg på svenska/ Read this post on Swedish

Foreword
I’m not under a blanket in Madrid. But I am under an awning in Borås.
There’s no wind. The sky is mostly cloudy, though patches of blue peek through. A bird calls out now and then. A few campers are waking up. But here, at our spot, I’m the only one awake.
A blog post is about to be born. And it happens – right now, in this very moment.


The Zoo – and That Feeling That Never Quite Leaves

We arrived in Borås yesterday.
We went to the zoo, as we’ve done before.
And yes, I always have mixed feelings about it.

It’s beautiful to see animals you’d never encounter otherwise. To hear knowledgeable, passionate staff talk about them with warmth and pride.

But then comes that other feeling.
The one that settles like a stone in my stomach.

These animals… they don’t belong here.
An elephant is meant to roam far and wide – not in slow circles inside an enclosure.
It doesn’t look natural.
It isn’t natural.

I know zoos do a lot of good. They work to preserve species. They educate. They raise awareness.
And still.
I feel it every time.
It’s not freedom. It’s an attempt.
And sometimes… attempts just aren’t enough.


Too Hot for Animals – and for Us

It was too hot. Really too hot.
And we were far from alone – crowds of people filled the paths. The animals were hiding. And the kids with us… they just weren’t as interested this time.

Maybe it was the heat.
Maybe it was the crowds.
Maybe we’ve just seen enough now.
Maybe we’re done.
That’s what my daughter and I said on our way out. We’ve done our share of the zoo.

Still, there were sweet moments.
We found shade. We had soft serve. The sandwiches and pancakes we brought disappeared quickly. The kids got absolutely soaked chasing fountains in the play area – laughing until it became contagious.

In that mess of water and squeals, there was something peaceful.
A pause from the heat and the crowd.


Fifty Meters of Relief – and a Night with Sausages and Cards

After the zoo, we headed to the pool nearby.
Not every day you get to swim in a 50-meter pool.
It was a balm. For body and soul.

We swam, jumped, played.
And I felt it – here I am. Here we are. Right now.

When we got back to the camper, my husband was grilling sausages. I made mashed potatoes. Everyone ate. It wasn’t gourmet, but we were hungry – and that made it good.

Later, we played Chicago with my daughter and her partner.
I had a great hand – but their strange rules meant no one actually won.

Then we headed into town.
Movits were playing in the city park.
I’d only seen clips my daughter had posted on Facebook and thought, “Eh, not my kind of music.”
But I was wrong.
There was rhythm, groove, and lyrics that spoke to me.
And they were from way up north – which warmed me. Creativity is alive across the whole country.

But that’s also when it began to scratch.
That other thing. The thing that didn’t sit right.


When Night Falls – and the Kids Aren’t Home

There were so many people. Music, laughter, movement.
And safety – thanks to the many police officers and security guards. It felt reassuring.

But then I saw them.

The kids.

Girls and boys. None of them older than 14. Many of them barely 12 or 13.
Big groups. Makeup. Tough stares. Twitchy movements. Shifty eyes.

And I knew.
I knew what I was seeing.

I’ve seen it before. In my job. In real life.
These are kids who are getting lost.

And it wasn’t a judgment. It was experience.
I could spot the ones who had already tried things. I could see the weight they were carrying – things they should never have to carry.

And all I could think was:
Where are you, parents?

What makes you not see this?
Do you really think your kids are little angels? Standing there – with fire in their eyes and the wrong people around them?

It tells me they’re not angels.
And it should tell you the same.

You need to wake up. Not later. Now.
It’s already late.

This isn’t a path kids “end up on.”
It’s a path they’re pushed onto – when no one’s holding the door closed at home.

I was furious. And heartbroken.
No child should have to be grown-up at that age.
No child should be navigating drugs, threats, violence – because their parents can’t be bothered to be the boring adult who says no.

That’s what parenting is.
It’s being the one who says: “No. You’re staying home.”

It’s checking in.
Talking to other parents.
Knowing where your kids are – really knowing.

Don’t you see?
It’s scared kids who carry weapons.
Scared, disguised kids who need parents.

No kid should need a weapon to feel safe in town.
They should be home – with you – even if it means playing boring board games.

Don’t you get it? These are scared children.
They hide behind Gucci caps and fake status.
But it’s not real.
It’s a shield.

It’s not cute.
It’s dangerous.

And it’s on us.


My Friend, Her Films – and the Question We Don’t Ask

Lastly – a soft end.
I want to share my friend’s YouTube channel again.
She makes short educational videos for children – about feelings, about life.
She works on them late at night, after her own kids have fallen asleep. She records, edits, narrates.

100% for her kids during the day.
100% for others’ kids at night.

And I wonder…
when does she take care of herself?

Or maybe – maybe that’s how she does it.
Through creating. Through giving.
Just like I do it here – with my writing.

Maybe that’s how we save ourselves.
One sentence at a time.


Closing Words

This post held a lot.
About animals that shouldn’t be in cages.
About children who shouldn’t roam the streets alone.
About adults who shouldn’t hand over their responsibility.
And about the small things – an ice cream in the shade, a laugh in a splash zone, a friend who gives her all.

It’s easy to lose your footing in this world.
But maybe, just maybe – it’s in the small, everyday moments that we find it again.



I don’t write to be liked. Im write because the world hurts sometimes – and because I know we need to look ´. I carry experience, but also hope. And the guts not to look away.



Yesterday has already laid down in history. Tomorrow waits up ahead. But right now – this is where life happens. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson


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Morning swims, waves, and cultural encounters – a day at the campsite

Read this post in Swedish

Preface
Some days stay with you, like pearls on a string. This is one of them. A day that began with rain and grey skies, and ended in deep reflections, play in the waves, and a troubadour singing for a scattered crowd. Here’s my story from our last day before heading home – written just as it happened.


From rain to sunshine – the day took a turn

Yesterday began with clouds, rain, and wind. However, by late morning, the sun broke through, bringing back the warmth. Despite the gloomy start, we had breakfast outside. Somehow, food always tastes better outdoors – even the driest toast becomes delicious. That’s how it is, at least in my world.

Even before the sun appeared, my husband and I took a walk down to the lake – just to see it.


Photos, swims and dancing waves

My husband had bought a new camera lens, which sparked his creativity. I’ll try to include some of his photos here – let’s see how that goes.

Once the sun came out, we couldn’t resist the water. I lost count of how many times I swam – but it was a lot. One of the swims was from a rocky outcrop with a ladder into the lake. The wind had stirred up fairly large waves, and it took effort to descend without being tossed against the rocks. Still, what a swim it was! The movement felt like a full-body workout. Surprisingly, Lake Vänern was warm.


Sitting on the ground – and getting back up again

In the afternoon, our daughter arrived with little Alfred and her partner. My husband took charge of the grill, and as usual during camping trips, the food tasted amazing. Since we only have three chairs, my daughter and I made do by sitting on the ground.

Now, being 60 years old with a stiff hip and aching back, getting up again wasn’t my most elegant moment. It probably looked quite amusing. Yet with a bit of help from my daughter, I managed just fine.


Playing in the waves – childlike joy

Later, when the others went grocery shopping, Alfred stayed with us. So he and I went down to the lake again – this time under heavy clouds and even bigger waves. We swam and played in the water for over an hour. Bathing with children changes everything – it’s not just about swimming; it’s about adventure. Together, we chased waves and explored the shoreline. By the time we got out, my fingers had turned purple-blue with cold – but I was still smiling.


Bruno the dog, dishwashers and the best eggs ever

After they left, my husband and I went to do the dishes. This campsite has one of those super-fast dishwashers – two minutes and you’re done. What a luxury!

Earlier that morning, we had seen Afghan families having breakfast by the sinks. One woman was cooking a traditional egg dish called Tokhm-e-tomato – eggs fried with onion, tomato sauce, and Middle Eastern spices. It smelled absolutely wonderful. I tapped her gently on the shoulder and told her – this is one of the tastiest things I’ve ever eaten.

Later on, we met a man from another Middle Eastern country who told us he had owned a restaurant and used the exact same kind of dishwasher. I mentioned that my husband and I had looked into buying one ourselves, though it’s a bit bulky and expensive for a regular home. Still – imagine getting your kitchen cleaned in just two minutes!


Respect in the small moments – when hearts want to speak

I stood a few steps behind her. The scent of the food lingered in the air while she focused silently over the frying pan. I wanted to say so much. Over the years, I’ve worked with many boys from her part of the world – boys who arrived in Sweden alone. And I always carried the image of a mother far away – perhaps someone like her – cooking, worrying, hoping.

In my work, I tried to offer those boys what I believed she would have wanted for them: dignity, safety, care, and deep respect.

I wanted to thank her – not just her, but all the women I’ve never met yet still carry in my heart. I wanted to say: I saw your sons. I listened. I tried to be worthy of your trust.

But I stayed quiet. I hesitated, unsure if we would understand each other. Maybe that was a mistake. Sometimes, it doesn’t take perfect words. A smile. A hand on the shoulder. A simple presence. That’s often enough.

People talk about culture clashes. But not here. Not on this campsite. Here, we shared meals, stories, swims, and dishwashing tips. Here, we were just people.

If only we could take that simplicity with us – into society, into our politics, into our everyday encounters. What if we led with curiosity instead of fear, and respect instead of suspicion?


Evening music and a soft goodbye

That evening, there was live music at the bar. Not many people showed up – perhaps because of the weather. A troubadour gave it his all, trying to capture the audience. He was good – had a nice voice and plenty of witty remarks between songs. But most of us were busy socializing.

Still, I appreciated his effort. It added something to our last night here.

This post turned out a bit different. But these are my words, from our final day at the lake. Tomorrow, we pack up and drive home – to celebrate my mother-in-law who turns 81 today. She’s one of the kindest souls I know.

Then it’s back to work for my husband for a week – and after that, two more weeks of spontaneous camper freedom. We don’t know where we’re going yet. And that’s exactly the beauty of it – the freedom to just go.


What do you think?

  • Have you ever sat on the ground at 60 – and needed a hand getting up?
  • Have you experienced warm encounters across cultural boundaries?
  • What’s your most memorable camping moment?

Reflection

Sometimes, the most powerful bridges are built quietly – with a glance, a plate of food, a shared laugh. That’s where humanity lives.


“Live today – right now. Yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow waits out there in the distance. What matters is now.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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#campingliv #husbil #badivänern #kulturellamöten #vardagsreflektion #respekt

Tent or Motorhome? Reflections from a Quiet Morning by the Lake

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Introduction

It’s early morning in the motorhome. The wind is humming outside, and the waves gently reach the shore below. It’s just past six, and everything else is still and sleeping. My coffee is, as always, by my side. I suspect the entire campsite is still asleep—except for a few early birds like me, soaking in the calm of the new day.


While the Camp Sleeps

I’m sitting in our motorhome, listening to the wind outside. The waves whisper down by the lake. Coffee next to me. Everyone is still sleeping. I think the whole campsite is mostly asleep. Just a few, like me, sitting up, enjoying the peace.


Real Campers – With Tents

There are many tents on this campsite. And I think they look so cozy. They’re probably the real campers. They’ve packed, they’ve set up, they’ve organized their things. I find myself wishing I was one of them.


We’re the Glide-Campers

We, on the other hand, are glide-campers. We bring the house with us, and it takes almost no effort to get ready. It’s become a part of our daily life—something we do just because we can. And lately, we can go often.

But that doesn’t make us real campers. It takes us 15 minutes to get on the road and 15 minutes to set up. By then the mat is rolled out, the table set, and my coffee’s brewing. Cooking? Almost like at home.


The Tent That Never Left the Garden

Long before we even bought a caravan, I wanted us to get a tent. My husband, who usually supports my quirky ideas, said no. A firm no. So I bought a tent anyway—with four small rooms and a center to eat breakfast if it rained.

But we never used it for real camping. I set it up in the garden, and the kids and I pretended we were camping. My husband shook his head, saying, “The bedroom has better beds—and it’s warm.” Next sentence: “A hotel would be better.” But that wasn’t what I wanted.


Caravan, Then Motorhome

One day, I found a caravan. That story is in my book, titled “I Prefer to Call Myself Impulsive”: Buying a caravan without a tow hitch. Buying a caravan 30, maybe 40 miles away – and buying it cheap. No, it wasn’t a hit – but that’s where we discovered camping.

We had several caravans. Then my husband started talking about getting a motorhome. I resisted. But he bought one—and I was hooked. Now, sitting in our fourth motorhome, I dreamily watch those with tents.


Milk Frothers and Forgotten Chargers

I can picture myself packing the car, setting up the tent… cozy, charming, everything I long for. But—not for me.

I can’t even pack a bag for a work night without bringing half my house—and still forgetting the essentials. How would that go with tent camping?

In the motorhome, I have everything. For example: I own a milk frother I’ve used maybe four times. I also have three battery whisks for frothing milk. One broke yesterday. I still have two left—one in use and one backup. The broken one lasted two years, so no need to buy a new one just yet.


Reality Check: I’d Forget the Charger

Tent life looks lovely, it feels like real camping. And I think I’d like to be that kind of camper.
But I’d need packing skills, and a brain that remembers things.

I wouldn’t be able to sit here as I do now—feet up in the passenger seat, laptop in my lap, coffee steaming—because I’d have forgotten to charge the laptop, lost my phone charger, or packed everything in the wrong place.

So… maybe my husband was right.
But only maybe. Because… tenting really does look lovely.


Little Films, Big Love

Let me again share the link to the small educational videos for young children. They’re made by my neighbor. She works on them in the evenings after her kids have gone to bed. I’m so impressed by her films—so sweet, made with love. Yes, impressed is the word.


Reflection

There’s beauty in wanting something else—while also appreciating what you already have. The tent is a dream. The motorhome is my reality. And maybe, in that contrast, I find my own truth.


”Live today, right now. Yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow—we’ll see if we get to live it.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Callout

Do you dream of tent camping too—or are you perfectly happy with the comfort of a motorhome like I am?
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