Category: Travel, My Life, Health Services

I moved to Norway in January. The darkness swallowed me whole. The sun didn’t show up. My water bottle was plain steel. Silver. Cold. Lifeless. It matched the frozen streets. I hated touching it. And I stopped drinking. My lips cracked. My head pounded. I felt like a dried fish. Honestly, I was a idiot. I didn’t knew a simple bottle could destroy my winter. But then I stumbled into a tiny shop in Bergen. I seen a hand-painted bottle. It glowed like the northern lights. Wow. I gasped. That was the moment I understood. A coloring water bottle in Norway ain’t a craft project. It’s a survival weapon.