I killed the lights. Everything looks different when you remove the glare. The city slows down, and you stop looking at things and start looking into them. It’s just outlines and distant windows now. I left a switch for you if the dark gets too heavy, but the view is much clearer from the shadows. Oh and I picked a really good song for this post. Feel free to play it, close your eyes (it only works if you close them!) and let your imagination take you to somewhere else for a few minutes:)
The sky is the same everywhere.
If you’re looking up right now, what are you wishing for?
Leave it here anonymously to send it into the universe.
…
The darkness is lifting now, trading the mystery of the night for the gentle, warming promise of a new morning.
It has been a long time since I actually sat down to write something here. For months, I’ve been content to let the images do the talking, treating this space more like a gallery than a journal. So, this post is a little different: a return to storytelling, a recap of our not so frozen December in the mountains, and a proper goodbye to the year.
I’m not sure when exactly the autumn turned into winter, or when the months started blurring into one another, but suddenly, here we are at the finish line. To hit pause, we escaped to the High Tatras for a few days of freezing air and warm tea at the end of the month just before the Christmas. Standing there, surrounded by ancient granite and fresh snow, the year suddenly felt heavy with memories – good, bad, and everything in between.
But before that, let’s first look at other events during December.
At the very beginning I was in Bratislava, Slovakia for a meeting with the management of Slovak Railways, who may become a major partner in my upcoming project. My brother was already in town, so my mum brought grandma along to meet us, and we spent some time enjoying the Christmas markets together!
Mom stopped by around mid-month. I have to say, my beard was way past due for a trim.
A lovely pre-Christmas catch-up with friends took place a few days before holidays.
I want to take a small detour down memory lane. This time of year (among many other things) brings back a very specific memory for me: being a small child, bundled up in layers, and going door-to-door caroling with a group of other kids. There was something so pure about walking through the freezing winter air, singing our hearts out just to spread a little joy.
I want to share two recordings that instantly transport me back to those days. I hope they bring a little bit of that old-school holiday magic to you, too.
Rolničky (Jingle Bells) · Václav Hybš se svým orchestrem Kühnův dětský sbor · Pražské dechové kvintetoBrother, Mom, and MeMe (soon turning 4) and Brother (soon turning 2)
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High Tatras
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And finally, a few words for the year that is ending.
Social media has a way of acting like a highlight reel. A curated gallery of summits reached and smiles captured. But as I look back on 2025, I know that the reality was far more complex. It would be dishonest to wrap this year up with just a pretty bow and pretend it was all easy. It wasn’t.
This year brought storms I didn’t anticipate and struggles that I have had to carry quietly, away from the public eye. There were days that felt incredibly heavy, and moments where the path forward was entirely obscured by fog.
But in navigating those darker months, I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea that life isn’t just about the peaks; it is also about how we walk through the valleys. We cannot always control the suffering that life throws at us, but we do have the autonomy to choose how we respond to it.
I found myself returning to the words of Viktor Frankl. He was a psychiatrist and a Holocaust survivor who endured the unimaginable in concentration camps, yet he came out of that darkness with a profound realization: that human beings can survive almost anything, as long as they have a why.
Frankl argued that life is not primarily a quest for pleasure or power, but a quest for meaning. And most importantly, he taught that we can find meaning even in suffering. He believed that while we cannot always control the tragedies that befall us, we retain the last of the human freedoms: the ability to choose our attitude in any given set of circumstances.
The challenge hasn’t been to avoid the pain – that was impossible, but to stop asking ‘Why is this happening to me?’ and start asking ‘What is this asking of me?’
So, goodbye, 2025. You were harder than I expected. You taught me lessons I didn’t want to learn. I am leaving this year with a little more scar tissue, yes, but also with a much deeper resilience, with the knowledge that meaning can be found anywhere.
I’ll leave you with a song that has kept me company through it all: ‘Keep It Up’ by Good Neighbours. It’s a little energetic nudge to keep going, no matter what. Enjoy the listen.
Keep It Up – Good Neighbours
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Looking Forward: Intentions for 2026
If meaning is found in action, then I want to enter the new year with a clear plan. I am trading vague wishes for these specific goals:
For others:
Giving food to the homeless
Committing donations to three non-profits/fundraisers close to my heart
Spend some time physically volunteering
For myself:
Read 12 books (one for every month)
Showing up consistently at the gym
Committing to “No-Phone Sundays”
To push physical limits, practise Cold Water Exposure
Learn a new physical skill
Hike 5 new peaks
The Challenge: Participating in 5 organized races and completing a 20km run at a better pace than last year
Let’s see what we are truly capable of.
Here is to finding the light, even when it’s faint.
These pics are taken on iphone. They may lack the crispness of a DSLR, but their little flaws are part of the story. Almost all were captured around Horna Poruba, Slovakia.
On this trip of ours we covered some 3,500 kilometres, a large part of which was spent travelling through Italy and its history. We started off in the north and gradually made our way down through Tuscany to Rome. On the return leg we crossed over to the eastern coast, had a look at the beaches there, and then carried on through Verona to Bologna.
In the week before Christmas Eve, we went to a beautiful concert in the Rudolfinum. The festive atmosphere, music, and decorations really set the tone for the holiday season.
Historical tram lines 23 and 42 are the best
A few days later, right before Christmas Eve, I traveled home. One of the first things we did was bake gingerbread cookies, filling the whole house with the warm scent of honey and spices.
On Christmas Eve morning, we went to the church to bring home the Bethlehem Light. Afterwards, since there was snow outside, we went for a lovely winter walk, enjoying the crisp air and the quiet beauty of the snowy landscape!
In the evening, we gathered together, had a lovely dinner, lit the Christmas tree, and finally opened our presents. It was a warm and joyful ending to a day filled with tradition, family, and the spirit of Christmas.
Golden Times song by French 79 has been haunting me throughout my trip to France and the historic shores of Normandy. A soundtrack of nostalgia, beauty, and moments that feel timeless.
Golden Times song by French 79
Paris
Bayeux, Normandy
Trip to D Day Sites, Normandy
Caen
During the summer of 1944, heavy fighting devastated the district, and St. John’s found itself at the heart of the bombardment.
Before we even get to describing our trip, it’s worth mentioning its rather unconventional start! This journey was special in one particular way. That same week in July, we had actually been in Croatia, on the island of Mali Lošinj, together with our parents.
Mali Losinj
On 27th July – the day we were still in Croatia but returning home that evening – things were actually rather out of the ordinary. When we set off from the island, we already had just a few hours left before our flight from Bratislava, Slovakia to London!
Later that evening, on our way to Bratislava, we came across a petrol station that looked exactly like the one from Cars! (Complete with a vintage Volkswagen camper van parked outside!)
You can read more about our trip to Croatia in the previous post, so now I’ll move on to the English adventure! We arrived at the airport a little before four in the morning, with our flight scheduled for six.
Bratislava Airport
The flight itself was smooth and calm, the kind where time seems to slip by almost unnoticed. Peter, in a rare twist of fate, even managed to drift off into a peaceful nap – something he never usually does on planes. When we touched down at Stansted, it felt like greeting an old friend.
I had been looking forward to this next bit for weeks: the train ride from Stansted to Liverpool Street Station. There’s something almost magical about slipping into carriage from the airport just after sunrise, the air still cool from the night, and watching the world awaken through the wide windows.
As the train glided forward, the scenery began to shift. First the open stretches of countryside, then the outskirts of the city, and finally the embrace of London itself. Buildings on the outskirts had a distinctly London look. Uniform red and brown brickwork, tall rectangular chimneys. It was a clear reminder of how London layers its history. The utilitarian post-war housing estates sitting just a few streets away from contemporary developments.
And at last, we were greeted by that familiar London cityscape — a mix of charming brick buildings and modern skyscrapers. We grabbed a breakfast meal from McDonald’s and took it down to a bench right by the Thames, with Tower Bridge. Sitting there in the cool morning air, we ate while watching London’s early risers jogging along the riverside, the city slowly coming to life around them.
What followed was a wander through all sorts of streets across the city. For a while, we were puzzled by how strangely quiet everything felt. And then it clicked – it was Sunday, and only eight o’clock in the morning!
I personally enjoy most about the London the little parks and side streets you stumble upon by chance while making your way between the landmarks.
St. James’s Park
We were already feeling the weight of the early start, having been up since before 4 a.m. to catch our flight, so we decided to head to our accommodation and have an afternoon nap. That nap turned out to be rather long, and we woke up to the beginnings of a London evening. Without wasting any time, we set off back into the city!
We remembered some really good noodles we’d had near Big Ben on a previous trip, years ago. We decided to check if they were still there and, to our surprise, they were! There was no way we could pass up the chance to enjoy them again.
And as the sun began to set, the city took on an entirely different atmosphere. The light softened into a warm golden hue. Glass windows caught the glow and reflected it back in shimmering flashes, while narrow streets became partly hidden in cool shade. The contrast between the bright, sunlit rooftops and the deepening shadows below gave the streets a calm, almost cinematic quality.
we took a stroll through Covent Garden, where we stopped to listen to, and even sing along with, an incredible street musician whose performance filled the place with energy. From there, we made our way to the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus, soaking in the lively atmosphere and buzzing crowds. But knowing we needed to be well-rested for the next day’s journey, we eventually headed back and called it a night.
D Day – Seven Sisters
We woke to a bright, sunny morning and headed straight to Victoria Station, where a Southern Railways train would take us directly to England’s south coast. About an hour later, we arrived in Seaford — a small town of roughly 25,000 residents.
In town, we admired the local library, a small park with a pond, and, before long, the real reason we had come here, the famous white cliffs.
We stopped for an excellent pizza, though Peter began to look a little uneasy. My plan for the day was to walk the entire Seven Sisters route, from Seaford all the way to Eastbourne, where we’d be staying that night.
In front of us lay a good 17 kilometres of walking – something I hadn’t really grasped at the time, happily sitting in Seaford, listening to the sound of the sea, the cries of seagulls, and the gentle coastal breeze.
Our trek had officially begun! And right from the start, we were met with some pretty steep climbs. But before diving into the walk itself, it’s worth pausing to explain exactly where we had arrived.
The Seven Sisters are an iconic series of chalk cliffs on the south coast of England, stretching along the shoreline between Seaford and Eastbourne in the South Downs National Park. Formed millions of years ago from the compressed remains of marine organisms, these white cliffs are continuously shaped by coastal erosion, giving them their striking, ever-changing appearance.
The name Seven Sisters was coined by locals, poetically referring to the seven prominent chalk peaks and valleys along the coast, which resemble “sister” hills standing side by side. Over the centuries, the cliffs became an important landmark for sailors navigating the treacherous waters of the English Channel – their brilliant white faces visible from many miles away, acting as a natural daytime beacon.
During the Second World War, the Seven Sisters played a strategic role in Britain’s defence. The cliff tops were home to defensive posts, radar stations, and barricades designed to repel a possible Nazi invasion. Parts of the area were even mined, and to this day you can still spot remnants of bunkers and fortifications, silent witnesses to one of the most dramatic chapters in British history.
I personally think these are the best images I (we) have ever taken and seen! There’s some magic about analogue film and this is definitely not the last time we are shooting analogue!
Long after that I decided to create my own blog. I don’t think I’ll be able to write many posts per year but I hope some of the trips or my ideas will make it here:)
