It was a rainy grey day when I booked a flight to Cape Town. Sporty had at some point said to me “why don’t you go to Cape Town for November”, obviously not thinking I might actually go ahead with the idea. So here I am. And as it happened, my arrival in Cape Town coincided with the end of my three month long social media leave. Which apparently also turned into a non-blogging phase.

The lady who runs my photography course in Finland asked us in the very beginning of the course “why are you here?” A blunt Finnish way of asking “what are you’re expectations regarding this course”. Anyway, whereas others replied with some “to improve my technical skills” or “to finish my photography book” I said “to take photos again”. As I had realised I hadn’t so much as touched my camera for a year even though it’s something I really like doing.

“I find it really hard to get excited about taking photos in Finland”, I said.

“I completely understand”, she said, “I have been there after returning from California a few years ago”. “Why don’t you try something completely new” she suggested. And then I remembered. It was always so light in Cape Town that I couldn’t practice the motion blur techniques. All of the sudden taking pictures was fun again.

The point? It’s so easy to get stuck with old ways of thinking, doing and acting that life just passes by. Even a small change, a new angle, a little distance may bring something completely new of something old and boring.

Today I’ve been procrastinating the whole day. Drinking coffee. Reading J. M. Coetzee’s “Youth”. Taking not one but two naps. Yesterday’s “easy and short” hike took a toll on my very unfit body. At five in the afternoon I decided I’ll finally go for a run. To get fitter to be able to get up that mountain without almost nearly dying. It started to rain. First a drizzle, then a proper face-hurting rain. I turned back, smiling. The funny feeling of being so alive. Three cars stopped and people asked if I need a lift. Haha. If they’d only known where I come from. “Thanks a lot, but I’m good.”

However, what’s different to the previous visits is that despite that odd feeling of “being alive” that only seems to happen I’m not feeling any longing. I’m just happy to be here. Grateful for being so lucky to have both “here” and “there”.



This is me today. Happy, soaking wet, breathing smells of fynbos and braai and wet asphalt, smiling for the drivers stopping to save poor me.


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