(Disclaimer: This was Jess’ favorite day, FULL of fun. This is the Sparknotes version, I assure you. Buckle up.)

tl;dr Jess had a really, really good day.

Poor Julie. She is a trooper. Jessica’s choice to resign from her job the day before leaving on an international trip, getting jetlagged, and missing some meals has some casualties. This morning, I was ready to throw combs and hairpins off the balcony as my hair flew askew in a wispy, floofy mushroom from my scalp. Then we were rushed away from breakfast, told we were late for the bus (apparently half of the group had been informed we were leaving at 7:30, and the other half of us were following the printed itinerary departure time of 8:00). A bit harried, we made it to the bus by 7:45 – and still left at the originally scheduled 8:00. 

We caught the next car ferry (just 20 minutes late), and while underway I took liberties to unpack my day bag and pull out my DSLR camera: an item I had painstakingly packed into a foam-lined case for the trans-Atlantic flight, and for which I had reserved a precious shoebox-sized space in my backpack. I selected a lens, removed the lens cap, turned the power switch, lifted the camera to my eye, and pressed the shutter button – nothing. I tried the power switch again – nothing. Then a sinking feeling in my stomach as I remembered my packing sequence back in Wisconsin: charge the camera battery, pack the battery and charger, and plan to place the battery in the camera once I got there…. I realized that the battery was still in the charger, sitting back in the hotel room.

Oops.

Now the cranky attitude thinly veiled behind my jetlagged, bad hairday, travelers stomach façade was rearing its ugly head. I wanted to toss the camera over the same proverbial balcony as the comb and hairpins, but instead I clenched teeth, clenched fists, clenched eyebrows. Clenching is not included in books on delicate feminine beauty and manners. BUT….

Now I was free to enjoy the day with just a little less pressure to capture it perfectly. I wouldn’t need to evaluate which lens was best, or to switch between phone and DSLR, or to carry the heavy camera body around my neck. I was free to just stroll, snapping mediocre photos with my phone camera, and stopping to smell the roses instead of meticulously attempting to perfectly photocapture dewdrops on the petals.

Once again, God took an opportunity to remind me that there are many good things – but not all things are good. Less is very often more.

Being present in the moment, rather than perfecting the moment, brings more peace and connection than flawlessness.

Thank you, Jesus. Keep reminding me. I’m a bit thick-skulled.

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We arrived in Balestrand mid-morning for a couple short hours of exploring this quaint seaside town. Julie and I gawked at soaring mountains that dove precipitously into the sea, surrounded by swirling clouds that offered brief but promising lightness that cheered hearts prepared for a day of forecasted rain. We paused on hillsides to catch our breath and admire cultivated roses and larkspur, wild fireweed and foxglove, and pleasant little chickadee cousins. What a beautiful place!

We left Balestrand for a 90 minute journey on the high-speed ferry to Flåm. I spent 20 minutes at the bow, awestruck by natural beauty and windswept free from worry about a bad hair day. We navigated into the most narrow and steep section of the Sognefjord, gazing high into the clouds to see the tips of basalt peaks over 3,000 feet above, from which streams of water feathered into cascades that tumbled into the sea beside us.

We arrived at Flåm to the sight of a monstrous cruise ship, and we unloaded at the dock with 9,672 others (ok, maybe closer to 1,000, but YUCK). I unsuccessfully suppressed my flight response, and Julie and I picked our way through the crowds to try in vain to find a quiet cafe. We resigned to our fate and found overpriced pastries and coffee for lunch with a party of 75 others. With the 20 minutes remaining before our bus departure, we perused the shops and I found myself the Norwegian sweater for which I had set aside my spending money. Flåm was good for just one thing, it seems. 😉

Back on the bus for an hour trip back toward Lærdal (our hotel home), but this time by way of the Lærdal tunnel, the longest road tunnel in the world. 25 kilometers of concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, punctuated every 8km by a cavern with blue and yellow lighting for a change in scenery. The tunnel – longest among the dozens of roadway tunnels we’ve traveled through the Scandinavian mountains – was highlight of the trip for some; personally, I’m enamored with the fjords. 😍

Beyond the other side of the tunnel, we found the Borgund Stavkirkje, one of the best preserved stave churches in Norway. This little church was built over 800 years ago, the pine beams and shingles preserved by regular application of pine tar and charcoal, giving the church a fascinating texture and rich black color. Our tour guide offered a delightful mix of facts, folklore, and humor.

After dinner in Laerdal, Julie and I took a stroll in the rain to view the Laerdal old town before turning in for the night – a late bedtime of 8:30 pm, with smiles on our faces and lifetime memories being recorded as we dreamed.