This post is a part of the writing project called Stories from the West that I started with Christa. We’re both currently living on the west coasts (Christa in the US, me in Sweden), hence the name of the project. We both want to share our experiences living as immigrants, and every month we’ll write a post each with the same topic. The topic for this month is ‘the story/experience of being an immigrant‘. Don’t forget to read Christa’s post, Notes From an Immigrant.
I chatted with H’s parents yesterday after dinner about our life in Sweden, and his mom said, “Well, I think you both have done really well in just a little over a year.”
I remember how I felt when we arrived just like it was yesterday. We rented a small cottage in the outskirt of Gothenburg to stay while we looked for an apartment. We didn’t have personal numbers and bank accounts. I couldn’t do online transactions with my UK card and had to rely on my sister for topping up my phone credits or buying the tram/bus tickets. I didn’t understand a single word in Swedish, making things a lot harder and frustrating.