Why I moved to the Norwegian countryside

Up until the beginning of this year, 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?

It's a bright summer day with an unusual heat in the mid 20s. I am walking up a dusty road in the countryside to take a break from unpacking and familiarize myself with my new “neighborhood”, so to speak. We've only lived here a week, and this is the first time I have a spare moment to really soak in the environment.

There's a humid, floral scent of meadowsweet and valerian flowers wafting on the faint breeze. Bright magenta thistles lines the roads against a shimmering wave of green wheat fields. Cheerful daisies peek up behind the metal guardrails at the bend in the road, and I can't help but smile back. Red and white farmhouses wait patiently at the base of the mountains for the summer harvest to begin. It will still be several weeks, but the time will pass before we know it.

My heart begins to ache and a lump forms in my throat. I can’t believe that I live here. Or is this all a dream? Am I going to wake up any moment now to the screams of drunk kids outside my window or the blast of an overly eager motorcyclist racing down the street? Or will I awaken to the sunshine as it glimmers off the water in the fjord and lights up the bright green valley below me?

When my partner and I started discussing what we wanted in a house, I half-jokingly said, "I want a house in the mountains, but by the sea. I want to live in the countryside, but not too far from a main city with core services. I want very few neighbors and plenty of silence and a place to grow a garden. And all for no more than #M kr." Right... not a tall order at all. I would have been happy with even just a few of those things, but I got it all, and I choke up every time I think about it.

With such a blessing, I feel indebted to the universe or gods or whatever magic and good fortune bestowed this upon me. My heart and soul are alive with creativity and peace for the first time in countless years. I am writing, photographing, and filming daily, and I eagerly want to share my art with the world again. It's what I was meant to do with my life, and I finally feel the space to do it.

I also feel grateful to the previous homeowners for gifting us with land that has rich biodiversity and tiered gardens up the hillside of our property. There are plants, flowers, weeds, trees, fruits, bees, insects, and birds everywhere. With our world facing so many environmental challenges, I had decided that someday, when I was old and well enough off with money, I wanted to purchase a bit of land to create a little oasis for the local wildlife. Even if I couldn't save the world, I could try to save a small part of it. I always thought this goal would be years and years away, but now it's at my fingertips. This is a treasure I look forward to guarding and nurturing over time.

But wait a minute. "What prompted such a big turn around from your perspective last year?" you might ask. As I get older, I like to believe I'm getting just a little bit wiser. It is no simple feat to differentiate between what you need, what you want, and what the world expects from you. Needs and desires are deeply personal, flexible, and often it seems they get twisted by societal influence. The Japanese have words to express the self you show to the public and the true self you keep private. Even if you’re not Japanese, we all do this to varying degrees and in different social settings. It can become easy to lose who you really are if you don’t have a space to be that private self.

At the beginning of this year, I realized and finally accepted that I am, in fact, a solitary person with a rich imagination that only thrives when I am in isolation and silence; two things that are becoming more challenging in such a globally connected world. I’m just not a social person, and I am ok with that. The flashy city life I thought I wanted was born out of a warped desire to create and be inspired, but I don’t genuinely enjoy big city life. The distortion between my public and private self has cleared, and I can finally see my inner self again.

This is why I chose to live in the countryside, closer to nature. I needed to be in an environment that would finally let my artistic heart run free. I hope it will continue to give me the balance I already feel it providing, and I eagerly look forward to sharing the fruits of my imagination with you all soon.