So it has been settled: while the rest of my friends has entered the phase of producing kids and buying homes, I have not and it has become evident to me that I probably will never do so either. Instead, I’m packing up my belongings and moving to the arctic.
In October, I threw all my usual prudence aside and applied for a job in Tromsö. In January I went up for my interview, and in February I received that email that makes you jump up and out of your office chair to do a little happy dance and scream out loud. I got it! OH DEAR MOTHER LORD, I ACTUALLY GOT THE JOB!
I said yes before I had time to think of all the problems that comes natural with a move to another country, especially if that country is Norway (like having to pay €3500 to import my old Lloyd or €9000 for Martin’s Ralfie boy, or that I will have to give up snus since one pack costs €10 in Norway in comparison to €3 in Sweden, or that Folköl does not exist and that all other beer costs even more than snus… or that Norway has a tax on everything that tastes nicely except fish so that I will have to give up anything containing fat and sugar).
TROMSÖ!!! WHALES!!! MOUNTAINS!!! THE ATLANTIC!!! (rain, wind, darkness) THE NORTHERN LIGHT!!!
I’m so excited that I’ve had trouble sleeping ever since February, and so nervous that I’ve had problems sleeping ever since February. I have so many things in Umeå that is precious to me and that I have to leave behind: mom and dad, wonderful extraordinary friends, and great colleagues. But this was really a no-choice – having said no to that offer would have been the same as sentencing me to a life of what-if:s. We plan to move in late June or early July. YAY!
But first, we are finally heading south. My sister and her husband are usually working their small asses of as lawyers in Stockholm but this spring they decided to go for a leave on Gran Canaria, where they basically just enjoy life by surfing canary waves. I and Martin were supposed to visit them and to ride our bikes during the X-mas break but due to Martin’s mysterious illness we had to cancel at the very last minute. With our victory over our bodies in the mountains in Borgafjäll and Marsfjällen we dared to give it another go. So fingers crossed, on Thursday morning, I hope that we’ll wake up to swaying palm trees as, the sound of the waves and to the extraordinary enthusiastic cackle that can only be produced by my two sisters.