One Year Later

I arrived in Sweden a year ago tonight.

Today, I can say without an ounce (or perhaps I should say gram?) of hesitation that moving to here is the best decision I’ve ever made.



My shortcomings in the Swedish language aside, I’ve established a pretty respectable life here in 12 short months.

I wake up next to my dream girl every morning in the perfect apartment, in an ideal small town with exceptional train service. No member of my outstanding support system lives more than 20 minutes away. It’s taken a lot of effort but I finally feel like I’m starting to be able to call a few friends “close.” I have an amazing job that pays well and is secure until at least next summer.

I’ve grown accustomed to a lot of things I never thought I would, too:

• Strong coffee, and lots of it

• Incessant conversations about weather

• Trying to argue in a culture that avoids even minor confrontations at all costs

• Lunch replacing dinner as my main meal of the day

• No shoes indoors

• Planning everything in advance, whether it’s doing laundry or visiting a friend

• Complete and total division of work and leisure time, with zero overlap under any circumstances

• Outrageous food and drink prices

• Queuing (that’s European for “waiting in line”) for everything

• Striving to come across as modest and humble in a country where bragging is practically a jailable offense

As far as my Swedish is concerned, it’s obviously going to take greater self-discipline, but I think what it’s really going to take is a commitment to spend more time here this year.

After having lived in Sweden for only a few weeks last fall, I took a solo vacation to Glasgow. We went to Sicily for Amanda’s birthday in November. I visited Germany and Denmark with my brother in January. Then I spent more than 10 weeks over three separate trips in the United States. All told, I spent 85 of my first 365 days as a resident of Sweden, outside of Sweden. That’s less than 77% of my time actually spent in this glorious country. Pretty difficult to focus on learning a language under those circumstances, but that goal now sits alone at the top of my list for the next 12 months.

I’m looking forward to what my second year here has in store.

The Waiting Game

I’m writing my first-ever blog post from prison. The United States is my cell. I couldn’t even cross the border into Canada or Mexico if I wanted, because my passport is sitting on the desk of a Swedish immigration officer 5,300 miles (or should I say, about 8,500 kilometers) away in Stockholm.

After weeks of thoughtful analysis and careful contemplation earlier this year, Amanda and I came to the not-so-easy conclusion that we would spend at least the next three-plus years together in Sweden while she completes her education. It makes the most sense based on factors I’m sure I’ll explain further in future blogs.

I would need a residence permit to cohabit with a significant other. The permit provides virtually all the rights of a Swedish citizen but must be renewed periodically.

Government websites warn that the process of obtaining the permit typically takes six to eight months, start to finish. I should have assumed they don’t just throw that number out for fun.

I spent more than 100 hours in late March and the first week of April filling out form after form and preparing a packet of documentation that would blow any immigration official’s mind: a detailed history of our friendship before we started dating, photographs from our frequent vacations together, letters, Skype logs, phone bills, photocopies of plane tickets, passport stamps and other travel papers pertaining to our relationship.

If the immigration board is primarily trying to halt paid, contractual or other arranged relationships between people who haven’t met each other or lack a genuine, established situation, my submission to the Consulate General in San Francisco on April 12 clearly squelched any routine speculation. We were called back to the Bay Area on May 13 for what turned out to be painless interviews that were nothing like the comedic scenes with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in “The Proposal.” They didn’t ask her what toothpaste I use or how I like my eggs. None of my questions involved her favorite Starbucks drink or designer brand.

San Francisco sent its recommendation along with my passport and all the other documentation to the consulate in Washington, D.C. for further review. At some point, everything eventually made its way across the pond to the immigration board in Stockholm.

There was a lengthy questionnaire dated July 1 waiting for Amanda at her dad’s house when she returned to Sweden on July 10. She mailed it back to Stockholm the next day and based on what I’ve read on forums on thelocal.se, the website for Swedish news in English, we may be rapidly approaching approval. Many who have been in our boat have written of receiving their residence permit within two weeks of mailing back that questionnaire.

This process is “only” in its fourth month, and things do seem to be moving swiftly ahead of the six to eight month estimate. However, with very little help from our case officer over the phone, we really don’t know when to expect communication next. In reality, it honestly could be a few more months

Let me tell you, it’s one of the worst feelings I’ve ever known. I’m in a virtual holding pattern. I quit my wonderful job in Auburn at the end of June (perhaps far too early) and I feel trapped in the country. Granted, I still have plenty to take care of in coming weeks, including a yard sale to get rid of all the junk I’ve accumulated during five years in Sacramento, moving out of my downtown apartment and selling my car. It’s beyond frustrating, though, that I can’t even buy my flight until receiving the ultimate confirmation from the immigration board.

For now, I’ll stay restless at night and we’ll continue to wait. You gotta love bureaucracy.