Resident

This is the Great Knowing, this is the Awakening, this is Voidness -- So shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry. – Jack Kerouac, from ‘Desolation Angels’

A week ago I received an envelope from FedEx. It was what I’d been waiting for: my passport back from the strict yet sensitive grip of the Swedish Migration Board. Flip through the pages past my growing collection of entry and departure stamps and there comes a colorful and obviously official document complete with a recent photo of myself, three crowns, various signatures and one of those seals that you can feel when you run your fingers over it. I was granted a two-year residence permit. The process of applying, being interviewed and finally getting accepted took about five months and cost me $65, plus shipping.

But it took more than just time to kill and a money order to obtain it. I look at that page of my passport as a sort of reward for the past 2 years of sacrifice, too long gaps of loneliness, uncertainty and jarring airport goodbyes that go along with a long-distance relationship. I guess I knew what I was getting myself into. And always in the back of my head was the fact that what this was all going to eventually come down to was one day getting on a plane with no return ticket and everything of tangible importance strapped to my person. That day now has a name, October 24th, 2005.

A friend of mine recently said that, “The right people get it.” What he meant is that the good ones, those who I live and die for, will see me off with a smile and high hopes. And anyone who banks on the negative side of leaving a completely stable life in our comfortable country in an even more comfortable city for a land where I’ll *gasp* have to learn a new language and assimilate into a culture different than ours will surely fall by the wayside. These people do exist. They’ve made it clear by losing touch in a way that makes my departure easier for them. Most effectively, the distance comes by not asking the questions that beg to be answered.

The questions I’ve been getting from them, the good ones, have ranged from, “I heard there’s not much sunlight there, true?” to, “What are you going to do for work?” to, “Are they Socialist?” to, “Does she have a sister? Is she hot?” And although I’m in no way an expert on Swedish culture, climate or politics I can say that I’ve spent my time there as a tourist and I’ve done a lot of the research you’d expect me to do. I wanted to cull some of my knowledge and findings here for those interested. I hope to give you an idea of what I’ll be expecting once I’m there and of some of the strides I’m taking to become accepted and remain productive.

In the coming days I’ll get more in depth and share some these specifics. More to come so stay tuned.