Coming up for air

In mid-September, two years after submitting my application for residency in Norway, I received a rejection letter.

In summary: your application has been rejected. You have three weeks to leave Norway.

I appealed the decision and requested permission to remain while the appeal is considered.

My request to stay was approved. The residency application itself is still unresolved.

Five years after leaving full-time life in the U.S., I am still dealing with the uncertainty and rocky ground that have come with trying to build a future in Norway.

But I have built a foundation here. There is still work to do, but I have done the bulk of what I can.

I feel like I have been running on a treadmill, while watching the dashboard, monitoring checklists, timelines and deadlines.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

All checkmarks are green except one, and that one is out of my hands.

I am hopeful that it will be resolved.

For the first time, the treadmill is slowing, but my feet and mind are still racing at the same pace.

And I am exhausted.

But I can begin to lift my eyes from the dashboard.

And in the course of waiting, I have been building.

In the seven months leading up to my departure in September 2021, I downsized by about 90%, left my apartment of 13 years and resigned from a nearly 20-year career. During that time, I often thought about my future self. I reminded myself that the big decisions and sacrifices I was making now would make room for a healthier, more secure road ahead.

One of the things that has kept me grounded this year is my Norwegian language course. At the start of 2026, I set a goal: to commit to learning the language. I began A1 in January, completed it in the spring, and started A2 in August.

These classes have been such a source of connection and continuity for me this year. Twice a week, we gather in a small classroom in central Bergen to work toward a common goal: building a future in Norway. We come from Poland, Spain, Moldova, Bolivia, Greece, Russia, Ukraine, Iran and more, and we each have a story.

Friends from the spring course have continued with A2, and they have become a support system as we navigate the challenges of immigrating to Norway.

I live in a small village called Skånevik, on the western coast of Norway between Bergen and Stavanger. It is the last stop on the boat route from Bergen. Being able to get to Bergen and the airport without needing a car never gets old.

I have also been taking part in the slow, honest work of building trust in a new community. I baked apple crisp for the fall bazaar and signed up to volunteer at the upcoming Christmas bazaar. On Tuesday, I’m meeting with the women at the local secondhand shop to see if I can help with their communications.

When things got lonely, I reached out.

Through house and pet sitting, I have built relationships that have grown into friendships. I’ve returned to familiar homes and pets, and mourned some who have since passed.

And now, when I take my usual route around the village, I say “hei hei” to the farmer and stop to pet the cat.

Over the summer

In July, I was making my way across the country to Oslo while the Norwegian football team was playing in the World Cup. I was in Skånevik for their win against Brazil, then in Geilo when they lost to England. I had hoped to be in Oslo if they made it further. It wasn’t meant to be, but there was so much to be proud of, and it was fun to get swept up in the energy of it all.

In Geilo, I spent two weeks at the mountain lodge where I had lived and worked for almost a year in 2021–2022.

I have returned a few times since, and it always feels good to come back, especially because those first months were incredibly difficult. After four months of waiting on a permit for a six-month job, my application was rejected. I appealed, and that appeal was successful.

The rejection I received this September is my second.

During this visit, I caught up with the owner and her family and helped train two girls from Slovenia who were helping at the lodge. Having learned the place inside and out when I worked there, I created a guidebook for future volunteers and thought about how far I had come since those early months. I was sad to leave. It was one of the most rewarding experiences of the summer.

A few days after the Norwegian team was welcomed home, I rolled into Oslo. The celebrations were over, but the energy was still in the air.

“All of Norway thanks you.” | “All of Norway is cheering.”

I was able to reflect on a time, nearly five years earlier, when I had arrived there on a one-way flight and gone directly from the airport to a quarantine hotel.

This time, I spent my days walking, writing, and exploring the city. It felt good to be anonymous and put on my tourist hat, grabbing coffee and bopping in and out of transit stations. I visited the Nobel Peace Museum, became a member of the National Museum, got a Deichman Library card and caught up with a friend from Sweden. I also went to a movie for the first time in a long time.

On July 22, I visited the new 22 July Centre on the fifteenth anniversary of the attacks.

Soon afterward, two close friends from Madison came to Norway. We traveled together and slept in a tent at Trolltunga, hiked to the top of Langfoss, hung out around the village and had a wonderful time. After two weeks, I saw them off in Bergen and returned to Skånevik.

At the end of August I completed a journey I had been putting off. I traveled to Sogn og Fjordane, where my family’s original farm is located. My friend Tone and I climbed Molden, where I spread my brother and father’s ashes. I’ve written about that journey in a separate post, Molden.

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Looking ahead, I’m planning a visit to the U.S. in early 2027.

I haven't been back since May 2024.

I’m looking forward to seeing friends and family, spending some time at my cabin, going to concerts and picking up more of my clothes. I’ve practically been living out of the same suitcase since May 2024 and going through my clothes will feel like Christmas, since I’ve forgotten what’s there. I also need to round up some belongings, including my record collection, which is currently scattered among a handful of households across the Midwest.

I’ve started watching concert dates and have scheduled a dentist appointment. I look forward to Mexican food and REI. I long to have a few cheap beers and plug the jukebox at a dive bar. A Midwest Friday night Fish Fry.

My tentative plan is to spend time in the Twin Cities, western Wisconsin and Madison, then head south, likely to Texas and Arizona, before returning to Europe.

As has been the case this entire time, if I leave Norway, I am required to stay out for 90 days.

Not just out of Norway, but out of the entire Schengen area. I have opted to remain as my application has been pending, but I did not expect to be away for so long. If my residency application is approved before those 90 days are up, I can return sooner. But for now, I need to plan to be out for three months.

Relationships take time and care, and that is not easy from an ocean away, especially after this long. Some relationships have become strained. I need to spend time with people and see what remains for me in the U.S.

I also miss my cabin. It is scheduled to be painted first thing in the spring, and there are repairs to make whether I keep it or sell it. For now, I’m waiting until my residency in Norway is resolved before making that decision.

For me, 2027 will be about finding balance, with a foot in each place. What that looks like will depend on how things unfold over the next days and months, both here and in the U.S.

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Until my course ends in early December, I’ll continue taking the boat to Bergen twice a week and getting as much as I can out of class. I’ll also keep building relationships in the community and preparing for my time stateside, while enjoying the slowdown of fall into winter.

In mid-November, the sun will disappear behind the mountains. The days will be light, but we won’t see the sun again until mid-January.

Last week, for the first time, I spoke a sentence in Norwegian, understood the response and was able to answer. They were basic sentences, but we understood each other. It was a milestone.

And yesterday, at the end of my volunteer shift at a concert at the local music venue, a woman I met when I first came to Skånevik came up to me and said, “It’s nice to have you here. I hope you stay.”

I hope so too.