My Balkan Adventure Begins

“…and all at once, summer collapsed into fall.” – Oscar Wilde

The sunrise on my last day at Hakkesetstølen

After a year in Norway, my seasonal role as Communications and Outreach Assistant at Hakkesetstølen ended on September 5th, and my Norwegian residence permit expired on October 4th.

I made the most of the time I had left:

On September 9, I flew to the Canary Islands for a week of sunshine—a gift to myself for everything I’d accomplished over the last year.

On September 19, I visited Gdańsk, Poland, for a few days, with the owner of the mountain lodge where I worked. It felt strange knowing I wouldn’t see her every day after that.

After returning to Norway from Poland, it was time to leave. I didn’t have to go home, but I couldn’t stay there.

By “there,” I mean the Schengen Zone, which includes Norway and 34 other countries. Since my work permit was for a 6-month seasonal job and nonrenewable, I wasn’t able to stay. And after a full year away, it was time for me to return to the U.S. anyway, to check on my cabin and catch up with family and friends.

That transition? In a word, jarring.

Leaving Norway: TORP Sandefjord Airport: ('Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.') - Thor Heyerdahl

Entering the U.S.: Los Angeles International Airport

Although I knew my Norwegian residence permit would expire and that I’d be heading back to the U.S. after that, I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel. Despite thinking I’d prepared for my return (or so I thought), I quickly realized that while my body had arrived on U.S. soil, my heart and mind remained in Norway.

I’ve been continuously working to align the three.

I went from living a quiet life on a mountaintop in Norway to stepping straight into the chaos of the U.S.—the midterms, the holiday season, and the abrasiveness of rural America. I went from the quiet hum of electric vehicles and pristine landscapes to a barrage of advertisements, noise, and constant stimulation. It’s been dizzying and, at times, disturbing.

I often felt the urge to retreat into my shell.

The first frost on a crisp fall day at my cabin.

But before I left Norway, I knew my stay in the U.S. would be temporary. I planned to travel again by the start of the new year. So, on December 29th, I flew back across the Atlantic to the Balkan Peninsula.

Though there’s no universal agreement on its exact boundaries, the Balkans typically include Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Croatia, Kosovo, Montenegro, North Macedonia, Romania, Serbia, and Slovenia—each in whole or part. Portions of Greece and Turkey also fall within the region, and many definitions of the Balkans include those countries as well.

I kicked off 2023 in Dubrovnik, Croatia with a loose plan. After spending the New Year's weekend in Dubrovik, I took a bus down to Kotor, Montenegro, where I would spend the next two months. I had booked a one-way flight from the U.S., knowing I’d return to Norway at some point, but leaving things open to whatever direction I felt pulled in.

As for “until I could return to Norway”… I won’t dive deep into Schengen Area rules, because, frankly, I barely understand them myself. But I do know that after spending a full year in Norway (and the Schengen Area), I need to stay out of it for at least three months before I can return. This means there are 26 countries I couldn’t visit until April. It’s a strange rule that makes my head hurt, but them’s the rules for a U.S. citizen like me trying to spend more time in Europe.

Per Schengen Area rules, I am unable to enter any of the countries that are purple or blue until April (LOL). I can currently travel to the countries that are green or grey.

My time in the U.S. was spent getting my cabin and storage unit in order, as well as setting up remote work to support my travels. I’m grateful for the support of family and friends who own small businesses and have offered me remote work opportunities.

I’m in the process of rearranging my life to travel, live unburdened by material possessions, and experience as much of the world as possible while I can. It’s not an easy road, but it’s one I’m committed to.

It’s a strange position to be in when you feel like you have no idea what you're doing, but at the same time, you know exactly what you're doing.

I'm excited to share my experience as I explore the beautiful Balkans.

"Doviđenja" for now,

Marla