By Debi Catenacci
Some places impress you.
Greenland transforms you.
The silence of Greenland isn’t quiet, it’s sacred. It doesn’t ask for your attention, it takes it. It didn’t try to entertain. But in the span of 36 hours, this raw, remote landscape quietly reshaped the way I see the world — and myself.
There are destinations that dazzle, and then there are destinations that undo you, places that ask you to lean in, question, and absorb without judgment. For me, that place was Greenland. Oddly enough, it came to me through the form of a whale.
Actually… three.
Three completely different whale experiences — in less than 36 hours. Each one exposed me to something new: nature, culture, and ultimately, myself.
The first whale was a sighting.
It began with a boat tour — a calm Icelandic sea, soft fog, and then a sudden ripple just off the bow. A whale emerged. Silent. Monumental. Ancient.
People reached for their phones, but I didn’t. I just stood still, completely present. There was no noise in my head, only a deep silence, just breath and wonder.
It was majestic, it humbling, I felt honored to witness this enormous creature with graceful movements in the isolation and vastness of the ocean.
Silversea had called this kind of experience “a rare and humbling view of the natural world.” They weren’t exaggerating. But what they didn’t say was how deeply that humility can shift something inside you.
The second whale, was a tasting.
Yes, that evening, in a Michelin star quality restaurant, the very animal I had just admired, I tasted. It felt contradictory. It was. But Greenland is not a place of tidy experiences, it’s raw, complex, and rooted in survival and cultural history. Eating whale meat is an honor to the culture that has lived in harmony with one of the harshest climates on earth for generations. It was meaningful, natural not sensational; it’s part of the past, and for some, still the present.
The texture was unexpected — dense, unfamiliar. But more than that, the moment made me question things I hadn’t paused to consider before: my comfort, my ethics, my assumptions.
It was an unexpected option on the menu, and I said, yes, to something for me, culturally out of the box. But I don’t regret tasting it. That exposure mattered.
The third whale, was a bracelet.
The final whale came to me in the form of a hallmark representing quality and authenticity. In a gift shop, I bought a handmade bracelet, soft black leather, adorned with a single polished gem carved from a whale’s tooth.
A keepsake, yes, but more than that, a reminder. Of wildness. Of respect. Of 36 hours when a creature crossed my path three times, once to watch, once to taste, and once to wear. None of it felt casual.
It wasn’t flashy. It was heavy with symbolism. It was a tangible reminder that in this part of the world, life and nature are inseparable, not romanticized, but revered, used, and respected.
Wearing it felt different than I expected. Not trendy. Not exotic. Intimate. Rooted. A merging of something intangible, on the soul level. A small but constant reminder that I had been somewhere that asked more of me — and gave more in return.
The sea carried blocks of glacial blue — ice so dense and ancient it glowed from within, like frozen sapphire.
The next morning, I found sacred stillness in my soul, as the Silversea Dawn cruised on to our next adventure. Grateful for the morning light shining ever so bright on blue ocean, in that moment, as I was sipping a smooth and creamy cappuccino, wrapped in a cozy cashmere shawl, I was staring at icebergs, sculpted in time, impossibly blue, compacted by centuries, floating silently past me as I listening to my own breath, reflecting on the importance of exposure.
These moments weren’t simply memorable, they were thresholds of woven timelessness. Each encounter stretched the fabric of my understanding: of nature, of culture, of how layered and paradoxical the human experience can be.
Because that’s the truth about exposure, it refines you. It disrupts assumptions, stirs empathy, and expands the dimensions of who you are.
As Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote,
“A man’s mind, once stretched by a new idea or sensation, never shrinks back to its former dimensions.”
Greenland didn’t just show me whales. It showed me the quiet power of transformation.
And I left different.
Debi Catenacci is a global storyteller and founder of Divine Biscotti. She writes to spark curiosity, inspire elegance, and challenge the way we see the world.
Debi serves on the Board of Managers of The Service Club of Chicago, is a co-chair for the Holiday Luncheon and is actively engaged in charitable initiatives, notably supporting The Chicago Lighthouse, Flair Event in Chicago.
Visit her website at divinebiscott.com you can follow Debi on Instagram @debicatenacci the book Divine Biscotti is available at amazon.com
I am delighted to say, that Debi is sharing one of her recipes with all of you…Enjoy!
Recipe courtesy of Debi Catenacci:
Meyer Lemon Poppy-Seed Biscotti
Meyer lemon has a slightly different flavor from the traditional lemon because it’s a cross between a regular lemon and a mandarin orange. It has a sweeter and less-acidic taste than a regular lemon—the good lemon flavor without the bite. Impress your friends with this refreshing summertime biscotti—a luscious homemade surprise to pack when spring picnicking.
Ingredients:
3 large eggs at room temperature (2 for the mix and 1 to be separated for the egg white) 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1⁄4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature 3⁄4 cup granulated sugar 1 teaspoon lemon emulsion 1⁄2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons shaved Meyer lemon peel, sliced tiny 2 tablespoons regular whole black poppy seeds 1⁄4 cup sanding sugar for sprinkling
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt.
In a large bowl, using an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat the butter and granulated sugar for about 2 minutes until light and fluffy.
With the mixer on low, gently add the 2 whole eggs, lemon emulsion, vanilla extract, and mix until incorporated. Continue mixing on low speed. Slowly add the flour mixture, and mix until combined, using a rubber spatula, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Then add the Meyer lemon peel and poppy seeds and mix until evenly distributed.
Divide the dough in half. On the prepared baking sheet, shape each piece into 10 inches long by 1 1⁄2 inches in diameter, in the formation of a log. Then place the logs 3 inches apart on the baking sheet.
In a small bowl, add 1 egg white and 1 teaspoon of water; whisk for 15 seconds. Then brush the logs with the egg-white mixture and sprinkle with the sanding sugar.
Bake for about 30 minutes until the edges of the biscotti are light brown and the tops feel firm. Remove the log loaves, and leave the oven on. Transfer the log loaves to a wire rack, and let cool slightly for about 25 minutes. Using a serrated knife, cut each log into 28 slices about half an inch thick. Arrange the slices, cut side down, on the sheet, and bake for about 10 minutes until the biscotti are golden brown and completely dry. Using a metal spatula, transfer the biscotti to a wire baking rack, and let cool completely.
Store at room temperature in an airtight container (divide layers with wax paper so the cookies don’t stick together).
