Photo: Christin Løkke / Visit Vesterålen
July represents the quintessential summer month at the 68th parallel, marked by moments of deep inner and collective celebration. The local communities of the Vesterålen Islands, and throughout Norway in general, take advantage of this bright month to organize musical events and gatherings for families and tourists who venture all the way up here to explore the wonders of this archipelago. I look forward to this month every year with great excitement, eager to bask in the midnight sun that watches over me, circling endlessly without ever saying goodbye—a companion who joins me for a couple of months on this journey through the Great North.
Photo: Tore Schning Olsen / www.nordnorge.com
July is the month of concerts and outdoor dining, best enjoyed with family or friends in the ever-fresh air, surrounded by the ocean and mountains. For me, it also marks a special time to celebrate the birthday of the woman by my side and to enjoy the company of her local family, who have taught me so much about the traditions and rituals of this culture.
It is an honor to spend a few days in their hytta, or countryside cabin—a sacred place for Norwegians, their remote refuge where they share time in peace, even though their main homes are already located in what we Italians would consider remote places. But I can assure you, the difference is tangible.
Everything stems from past generations who used these homes to live in during harsher times, when the men went out to sea and the women took care of the house and children. Those children are now the guardians of a collective memory who have preserved and restored those once-humble yet love-filled homes, turning them into welcoming spaces that even make foreigners like me feel at home.
In my case, this place is called Ringstad—the very surname of the family that gives me all of this—located near Bø in Vesterålen, a small village on the west coast of Langøya Island and of the entire archipelago.
Bø i Vesterålen is a windswept coastal village in northern Norway where nature doesn't just surround you—it speaks. Imposing mountains meet the open sea, and the light shifts with a kind of quiet drama that makes even stillness feel alive. It’s a place where the everyday brushes against the mythic.
At the heart of the village, the Bø Museum preserves the stories of the people who carved out a life here—fishermen, farmers, and craftspeople whose history is written in weathered tools and old boat frames. The museum is modest but resonant, a place where memory clings to wood and salt.
And then, there’s Mannen fra Havet—The Man from the Sea. A towering sculpture rising from the rocks, facing the ocean like a sentinel. He’s both guardian and question mark. Part human, part symbol. His presence reminds you that here, the sea isn't a backdrop—it's a force that shapes everything, including us.
Photo: Øystein Lunde Ingvaldsen / www.nordnorge.com
As every year, the local administration organizes a concert bathed in the light of the midnight sun—that same summer friend I mentioned earlier. Imagine standing on a rocky shore of North, the Arctic Ocean at your feet, mountains at your back, and the sky glowing gold with the midnight sun. The music rises—raw, clear, echoing across the water like it was made for this exact place. People around you aren’t just listening—they’re lit from within.
And what better opportunity for me not only to attend but also to explore a guesthouse I recommend to my travelers.
This place is called Skagakaia. Once a remote post office with a dock in front for fishing boats and steamers, it has now become a charming retreat far from the tourist crowds—a place to stay for a few days and soak in the panoramic views and the most authentic Arctic experience.
Lone, the owner, makes you feel instantly at home. She works tirelessly to preserve this place and its unique atmosphere. On top of that, she’s an excellent cook who prepares local dishes and serves delicious breakfasts.
Whether you’re sitting around a table in the open air, clapping to music under the sun that never sets, or simply listening to the silence in a cabin by the water, this is a place that stays with you.
It's hard to place this experience in a clear timeline—let alone assign it a specific role. The sun’s slow arc across the sky doesn’t help much in distinguishing what came first or after. I could say I fulfilled my role as a travel designer in the field, or that I lived out my passion for music under the open sky.
But the truth is, the most meaningful and revealing moment came during a gathering with my Norwegian family, in celebration of my partner—the person who taught me how to live here, and helped me feel part of a journey that's only geographically far from my homeland. Emotionally, it’s been a path into the hearts of others and into the deeper connections that bind us all in the journey of life.
Photo: Kristian Nashoug / www.nordnorge.com
I wish every trip I design could offer people a chance to truly connect with the lives and rhythms of these places. But the reality is, sometimes there just isn’t enough time to let that happen. That’s why I believe we need to slow down. Stop. Observe. How many hours, days, months, or even years does it take to truly see a place? I’ll never stop being grateful to the family that gave me the time, space, and patience to go deeper—to feel this land at its root.
"Family" is a word that doesn’t translate easily. Not for a traveler. Not for someone trying to understand what it really means. In the end, it looked a lot like where I come from: a table set with care, everyone bathed in the light of a sun that never quite sets, and a shared desire to be together—to communicate, despite the language barrier. And even that, I’ve come to see, is just a small fence, easily cleared with some commitment and the idea that learning it feels like reclaiming a piece of myself I didn't know was missing.
A Norwegian flag raised high for a celebration—as only they know how to do—and the quiet, enduring love that’s made it wave for generations.