I find myself sitting here digesting a surreal moment. Somehow, like sands carried by a rushing river, moments have swept into minutes, days, months, weeks, years and now a decade and a half. On July 19, 2011 I held back tears of joy and sadness as I gave my folks a big hug, turned and boarded my flight to Copenhagen. I was excited and overwhelmed by the prospect of this major change in my life. I took a long deep breath and pushed down a flurry of butterflies as I settled into my seat.
I genuinely doubted whether I’d last more than one semester. It was daunting to undertake a return to school after several years working in the business world and now to pursue not just a Master’s degree but one in a foreign country no less? I’d only spent 3 days in Denmark previously and it was largely a grand unknown. It was exciting…and terrifying. I felt the fear of failure, the uncertainty of the unknown, and the excitement of possibility blended with a deep pride that I had overcome all my excuses, navigated the challenges, and was doing it.
The bundle of emotions in those moments is so varied and intense – I can still feel it in my body when I think back to that time so many years ago. The excitement is there for sure, but with it, there is this profound sense of doubt and second guessing. There was the story I told myself, the desire I felt to relocate, the need for change – were these all real, or were they just excuses to avoid making other choices. Was I ready to do it? Could I do it and succeed? After all, how profoundly expensive and embarrassing would it be if I hated it, couldn’t cut it, or had made a major mistake? Also, what would happen to my friendships? Would we drift apart? Could I maintain them? Would they feel as though I was abandoning them?
At the same time, there was a profound sense of excitement and achievement. To be in that moment, to be doing it, to have locked the door behind myself for the last time and stepped out onto a new road full of adventure was profound. What was ahead of me was a tabula rasa – a blank slate – that was mine to define and shape.
The Early Years
That first 8 months was hard. I met incredible people, made wonderful friends who remain some of my dearest friends to this day, and I grew in new and exciting ways. I still recall, a few years later, when back in Prescott for a visit, a dear friend and mentor observed something to the effect of “You seem much calmer and at ease.” Which caught me off guard. As I started to say that I didn’t feel different, I stopped and realized they were right. The Danish pace of things, combined with finding meaningful projects, and the sense of achievement at both an academic, professional, and daily personal level had matured and grounded me; it moved me deeper into adulthood.
With time, things started to get easier. Each month brought rich new experiences, growth, and opportunities to learn, experiment, travel, or create. I was thriving. And then, the Master’s concluded, I got a score I was proud of, and had to make a choice. Before moving to Denmark, I had been working on the creation of FusionVirtual, an edtech startup that envisioned using massively multiplayer online gaming technology for eLearning. Through the course of my Masters, I realized it was too early and wasn’t practical. Neither was my other plan to pursue blogging full time, leave Denmark, and wander the world. I had already developed my VirtualWayfarer brand and making that my next career move was possible but not the direction I wanted to go. The other career path I’d considered … to cast a global net, return to the business world, but via an international role chasing robust salaries somewhere in KL, or Hong Kong, Dubai, or London … also no longer held the allure I had imagined at the outset of the Master’s. No…I’d fallen in love. Not with any individual, but with a culture, with history, with a city, and with a country that in some ways was so familiar and comfortable and in others, wildly alien, exotic, and challenging.
It was 2014, a mini recession was in place, and what followed was more than a year of humbling struggle as I searched for employment. I felt like a small ship blown against the rocks in a storm, bashed and battered by each new wave. As money flowed out of my bank account, fixed-term student jobs and family support got me by as I completed application after application and worked through round after round of job interviews. Arrogant confidence and preconceptions about people who struggle to find jobs was flayed away while each new rejection and near-hit poured gasoline on my imposter syndrome. It was fucking grueling. And then, just as I started to draw a final red line in the sand for myself and was mentally prepared to give up, I landed the job and the visa. All my struggle and hard work paid off.
What came next was a new wave of change. Many friends and classmates left – returning to their home countries or taking jobs abroad as global citizens are prone to do. For me, it was the start of a new period of learning and growth. It was about learning a Danish workplace, and figuring out how to update my storytelling, my marketing, my way of communicating, and of collaborating to fit and thrive in both a Danish workplace, but also a global European-led company. Where could I draw on useful parts of my American education and work experience, and where was it a liability? What did I need to re-learn and what did I need to tweak or adjust? How should I navigate building stories and materials that would work in Denmark, Germany, Spain, Sweden, Australia, the US, the UK and more than 20 other countries around the world.
To Be a Fly on the Wall
Things were bright and exciting and optimistic and then the racist nationalist wave swept the world in 2015 and 2016. While the US led the way, the rhetoric, money, and narratives were no less felt in Denmark. Visa and immigration policies changed rapidly and retroactively – more than 80 times. The visa I was on was phased out and waves of new restrictions were put in place. As a non-EU worker, the policies put in place put me in an odd position. As an American, I sat in an entitled position, was viewed as highly “desirable” and very welcome. I was not viewed so much as an immigrant, but more as an expat, a sojourner, a highly skilled worker. But, when the policy was changed, when the work scheme I was on was phased out because “it was leading to too many Muslim Pakistanis with PhD’s working as janitors”, the rhetoric, the policy, and the reality was seldom aligned. To walk the streets and see banners with slogans directed at others, but which applied equally to myself was hard. It was sad. It was frustrating. Especially against the backdrop of what was taking place and the narratives in the US.
As an Arizonan at that period, in particular, it was powerful to have a foot in both worlds. To watch the narratives in Arizona, the bigotry, the lies, the false narratives, and the dismissive statements about “how easy it is to do it the right way”, “how lazy they are”, and “how they’re stealing our jobs”. Often people in my old social network sharing the hate, or even saying it to my face with blind ignorance. All the while, here I was in Denmark. I was that immigrant. The immigrant who was spending more than $1,000 every couple of years on paperwork alone, constantly in limbo, worried I had failed to dot the right ‘I’ or cross the right ‘T’. I was the immigrant who didn’t speak Danish, who contributed to the system both significantly in the form of taxes, but also helping to create jobs and global competitiveness. And yet – that same rhetoric was there, floating around the periphery.
While this post is a celebration, it is celebration through reflection. And that contrast, navigating it, and that constant unknown, is an inseparable part of much of this journey. It is the part that is always there. Always a risk, a threat, an uncertainty. It brings with it insults implied, direct, and otherwise which we have to work not to internalize but to understand, to let flow over us, and ensure we do not turn bitter.
It doesn’t get actively talked about, but this extra weight is always there. I often refer to it in passing as the extra 5%. In everything I do as an international, lurking in the background is an extra 5% friction that is there. It’s an extra energy tax I don’t mind paying and I view as a natural part of the equation – but it is a weight all the same. When people ask me if I plan to stay in Denmark indefinitely, this 5% is also part of my answer. I adore it here. I love my lifestyle, the adopted culture, and my daily life. But, in the future? Perhaps a day comes when that extra 5% builds up and becomes too much. When the tradeoff isn’t worth it anymore. Right now, I don’t see that anywhere in the future but, if I wake up to it one day? Then it will be time to make changes.
Mechanisms for Success
The Nordics tend to top the list of happiest people time and time again. That doesn’t mean they are constantly euphoric and as we all know and it’s certainly not the result of the weather. Rather, it is deeply based in healthy expectations and a sense of contentment. I’ve outlasted many of my old classmates and other sojourners because I never expected to be something I’m not. I never sought to become Danish, to supplant my American identity, or that I would blend in seamlessly just because of my Anglo-European ancestry. I approach my time in Denmark with the expectation that I benefit and thrive from blending these identities and cultures and experiences in a way that evolves me. But, I acknowledge that I will always be foreign, not unlike what I’d expect if I lived in China, not Denmark.
This, in general, serves me in many ways. First, it helps me constantly seek to explore Danish culture and my interaction with it. I see my place within Danish society through a powerful and useful lens. Second, it helps me accept and even anticipate added areas of friction, awkwardness, or frustration when navigating social, professional, and bureaucratic situations.
Another area is being very mindful of where the balance (and imbalance) in my life is. When I see most friends and acquaintances grow frustrated and leave, it is often based heavily in imbalance in one area of their lives. Perhaps work becomes overwhelming and all consuming, or a relationship becomes toxic. In these instances, a disproportionate friction in one area of their lives taints and poisons their broader enjoyment and ability to find and revel in the joy and things that would otherwise give them energy. Often, it reaches the point where they feel they need a total reset – either to return home, or to move to a new country and start over.
I’m ever mindful and vigilant about this in my own life and have built my day-to-day in ways that help me very intentionally avoid this. People always ask why I walk most places vs. biking, and ultimately this is part of that equation for me. It keeps me tied to the city, embedded in it, vs. traveling through it. I’m also a terrible commuter, so I know that where I live and work plays a pivotal role in my connection and energy and mood. One 3-month job with a 1.5 hour and 3 change commute each way during my job-search period left me exhausted, ate time I desperately needed for connection, and was the one time I felt my love for the city slipping. So, I actively work to avoid that.
Yet another area is actively avoiding toxic international circles. Far too often you’ll find two types of problematic international circles. The first group are perpetually whining and self-sabotaging internationals who are caught in a loop of complaints, tirades about how things “back home” are better, and the like. Why these individuals stick around is beyond me. Especially when it isn’t tied to a spouse or children. But I always find this subset of “expats” to be toxic, tiresome, and embarrassing. The complaints and the scripts are boring and repetitive. There is usually an astounding level of self-awareness and the outcome is predictable.
The other group I’ve actively avoided are mono-national international groups. I adore the American friends I have here in Denmark. We share a lot at a deep level – not just basic cultural references, language, and shared experiences growing up. More than that, we also navigated a similar series of decisions, introspections, likes, dislikes, and curiosities to pursue a path that led us to Denmark. But, the vibrancy for me in living abroad these past 15 years comes largely also from the wonderful melting pot of cultures and perspectives that I have in my friend group. Sure, Danes and Americans, but also Romanians, Indians, Brits, Poles, Lithuanians, Czechs, Macedonians, and so many more. Of all the experiences living abroad these past 15 years have gifted me one of the absolutely most rewarding are these relationships even if, I still feel, like it should be even broader.
Why Denmark?
I’ve now lived in Denmark for more than one-third of my life. It’s a surreal thing! Often, I feel like I just arrived a few years ago. A far cry from the two years I initially thought I’d call Denmark home. But as every international who picks Denmark has been asked thousands of times at this point – why Denmark?
For me, it is a broad blend of things. Many, far too nuanced to include here. But, a key piece of it all is Copenhagen. At this point in my life, it remains the absolutely perfect city for me. Given it was once again touted as the world’s “most livable city”, I suppose that is also not some wildly rebellious position to hold. Still, the why for me is a fusion of art, economics, culture, size, accessibility, regulation and history. I always do small mental check-ins with myself when I land back home after a trip: I ask myself … am I happy to come home, even though the trip was great? And that answer is always yes.
To me, Copenhagen has the art and cultural profile of a major global capital. It’s scaled back a little, but it is still far far more expansive and advanced than you’d expect for an urban area of just 1.4 million people. I love to just wander through the beautifully maintained and painted streets reveling in how every day feels like I’m living in a movie. I adore how I can just wander the city core passing skilled buskers playing music and then stumbling onto wonderful events like CPH Jazz, the Opera Festival, Carnival and so many wonderful events. I love the countless museums, big and small, that are situated throughout the city. I love how the city’s cozy design, layout, and student / new parent heavy population fosters small coffee shops alive with men and women throughout the day. I also love the quiet calm respect and care, the way people are quiet on the metro and how they’ll pick up a dropped scarf or piece of clothing and set it where it is more visible so it can be found. It is this level of trust, and the collective sense of trust and equality that flows in part from Janteloven and in part from long standing Danish tradition.
Though things have become a bit harsher in recent years, I also love to call a place home where education is celebrated and funded. Where healthcare isn’t treated as an optional luxury, and where things like the social ambulances are present to proactively go and do checks on the homeless and disadvantaged. I adore a city where the arguments are over the number of park benches vs. parking space; where we can add flowers and greenbelts and planters back into the city to create quality of life and social spaces.
At a more national level I also deeply appreciate the value I get from my taxes even while in the higher tax brackets. It’s money I don’t mind paying, because I feel it delivers community services and creates the holistic national package I find so attractive. It also helps me feel as though I’m contributing in a meaningful way in exchange for my place here. Beyond that I also deeply value the national and standard employer policies around vacation – to have a base of 25 days, 11 federal holidays, and then in my case 5 bonus days every year which I am actively expected to take? It is a powerful enhancement for quality of life and the lifestyle I actively enjoy.
I also find it deeply rewarding to work in a Danish workplace, albeit a very international one. The approach to how decisions are made, how information is shared, what is expected from employees and how employees are treated always varies from company to company. And yet, there are standards and cultural expectations which shape the broad tone and formula and that I find very attractive. I love how that sense of trust that is elsewhere in the culture, manifests in the workplace. There is a freedom and flexibility that you are granted to carry out your role and complete your tasks. And, let’s be honest – I also love that I work in a workplace where the old tradition of Danish employer provided lunch is still a thing.
Beyond that, I am grateful for the openness of Danes. How they go out of their way every day to make me feel included, to welcome me into their communities, and to make navigating and living in Copenhagen as frictionless as it is.
Of course, as I hinted at, there are all the other little moments – the first warm sunny day in spring as everyone rushes out to sit in the sun. The way the rose beds throughout the city are cared for and bloom in the spring. The deep sense of meaning that comes when a Dane invites you to dinner with their friends and closely guarded circles and a thousand other small moments and details. It also certainly doesn’t hurt to work and live in one of the world’s most expensive cities when it’s time to book a vacation or travel abroad and my spending power is amplified significantly.
I’d also be remiss if I didn’t say having my brother here after he relocated some 9+ years ago is also an absolute blessing. We are incredibly close, and to have at least part of the family here in the city and available for weekly traditions like our Sunday brother’s brunch, is ground and truly adds to the feeling of home.
A Final Thought or Two
So, as I welcome 15 years in Denmark where am I? I am happy. I am content. I am grateful. Of course, I have my ongoing challenges, some of which are new, some of which are old. It’s also profoundly difficult to be living abroad as retired parents age. And yet, I cannot think of anywhere I’d rather be right now than here.
As I reflect on these past 15 years, I feel so blessed by the people who have helped me in big and small ways. Who have opened doors for me, made time for me, given me advice, listened to me, and paid forward insights from their own journey. Also, to the many people who have built bridges and welcomed me into their lives.
I’m proud of myself for having the fortitude to see through that first flight. I find myself now deeply content in where life has taken me these past years and deeply curious, open and hopeful to what the next 15 years will bring and where it will see me. In the meantime, thanks to everyone who has and continues to be part of this journey.