Up until a year ago, I was hell-bent on moving out of Norway to some metropolitan city where life and culture and innovation happened. I was full of pent-up energy stifled by the mid-sized university town I lived in, missing the fire and passion of the US and central European tech scenes. So how in the world did I find myself in a tiny coastal village of around 350 people with a brand-new mortgage and the biggest smile on my face?

Not all of my trips are momentous or thrilling, but sometimes even the simplest getaway takes me somewhere interesting. I went on a weekend vacation to an island to the west of Trondheim called Hitra.

It’s a little after eight in the morning and the sun still hasn’t risen, but I decide to bike to the forest and pay a visit to my favorite trees. Who knows what changes I’ll find in the forest today. 

It was barely mid-August, and the shadows already stretched their long gray arms across the pavement. The all too familiar crisp, autumn air wafted into the neighborhood and the verdant flora began to soften after an intense summer of growth.

By the end of July 2024, the Trøndelag hills were bursting with perfectly ripe berries. In the 4 years that I have lived in Norway, I have never seen such a good season. There were ample raspberries, juneberries, and even blueberries and mushrooms started to pop up early! The hills, forests, and even our neighborhood had such a plentiful excess of raspberries.

It is surreal that I have lived in another country for 3 years now. I always imagined living abroad long term was something that adventurous people did, but not myself. Each year I lived in Norway hit me with harder and harder challenges that shattered my whimsical idealizations and felt like insurmountable feats. This year was no exception.