We strayed far from home.
Inside a car with no clear destination, we set our minds on one goal: to keep heading up. Up, until we almost fell off the edge of the earth.
1,700 km of road greeted us with everchanging landscapes: tundra, blue skies, low-lying fog, monochromatic lakes. We crossed the most isolated places we’ve ever stepped foot in, at the far northern reaches of the planet, and the rewards came in all shapes and colors.
Those registers tell the story of a trip through Finland, Sweden, and Norway, in search of something we never quite defined.
Somewhere between Finland and Norway
This here is the driest desert on Earth.
And yet, to my surprise, it ends abruptly at the ocean, forming contradictory beaches with sudden cliffs that defy everything I thought I knew about shorelines.
The Paracas Peninsula is a protected reserve of vast landscapes and sands that constantly change color—deep red where iron is rich, pale where massive salt stones lie beneath, and golden where algae kiss the ground.
And because nothing in nature is inmutable, this entire desert was once the ocean floor. That’s right: all this vastness once underwater. Recent earthquakes have unearthed tiny marine fossils hidden beneath the endless sand, quietly preserving stories of a planet long gone.
For us, walking here in this brief moment in time, it’s hard not to wonder if these landscapes are really on Earth. At times it looks like it couldn't be.
Paracas, Peru
In the golden age of trains, the 70s, Pampa de Arrieros was a mandatory stop. Engineers refueled locomotives, while passengers refueled themselves at the town’s picanterías and hotel.
With the arrival of highways and diesel engines, Arrieros lost its importance and was abandoned.
Decades later, during the pandemic, eleven former residents returned to their homes seeking isolation and familiarity.
Today, a single, dedicated janitor works tirelessly to restore the ruins and give the village a second chance.
Colca Valley, Peru
Florianópolis, Brazil
This public sauna is maintained by those who use it. They chop wood, fix the roof, and feed the stoves.
The three cabins are right by the icy sea, where people feel the irresistible urge to plunge in after baking at 105ºC for a few minutes.
The dive is physically painful, spiritually invigorating, and strangely inviting.
Over the course of two or three hours, all of the sauna goers alternated between hot and cold, sitting and chatting. Sipping on a beer, sharing stories about the countries we came from, the rainbow that came out to greet us, the best places to eat. People of all ages, genders, bodies, and backgrounds came and went, creating a refreshing rotation of temporary new friends.
Helsinki, Finland
In the Nordic countries, red houses seem to sprout everywhere.
A trend? Lack of creativity from the neighbors?
The truth is, this paint has a name, heritage, and practical purpose: Falu Rödfärg (Falun Red) is a pigment made from copper that, thanks to iron oxide, takes on this rusty hue.
Wooden houses are coated with this mix because of its fungicidal and bactericidal properties. The wood, which needs to withstand the harsh, wet, and cold climate of these countries, lasts longer this way.
As a side effect, we get fjords dotted in red. An idyllic scene.
