And so, my first Swedish adventure ends...

Pity about it, too. I must say, as the days inched (centimetered?) closer to my departure date, I found myself getting more and more sad. Moving to Sweden has been a profound experience, and honestly, looking back on it, it was completely worth leaving my job, selling everything I owned, and saying goodbye to my beloved Pacific Northwest for 9 months.

It's funny thing, dealing with the unknown. While there are types of uncertainty that are easier to deal with, there are some that really demand you sit down with them and have a dialogue. Having faced some situations this year that would have originally sent me panicking, I come back to the States empowered. I think I've reconciled with some of my external stressors, and that's opened up everything.

If you asked me what living in Sweden was like, I'd say it was a lesson in vowels and street names; fika and glögg; museums and minimalism. I met individuals who exemplified the Swedish stereotype, and those who certainly didn't. The place is undeniably beautiful and astoundingly accommodating. I'd say the rumors are true: Swedes are a reserved bunch---quietly brilliant and typically open-minded, but horrible at walking through crowds. If you ever find yourself going to Scandinavia, I'd say bring lots of whiskey, a flask of maple syrup, and a honest heart.
Who knows, you may visit a bunker or two...

Well, anyway, I am ecstatic about returning. It definitely doesn't feel like goodbye. But until then, I've got a job at the Pacific Science Center that will restock my bank account, a family who's excited about my little brother's high school graduation, my first trip to Hawaii, and many glorious reunions over beers waiting for me. And, of course, Ireland.

Off to the next adventure.