Between Two Worlds: Some reflections about settling in Norway

Last Friday evening, while I was travelling back home on the subway, I overheard two women talking about how hard it’s been to adjust to life in a new country, and that felt like an echo of my own experience when I first moved here with my family. I remember stepping off the plane, with a mix of excitement and anxiety, knowing that we were embarking on an entirely new chapter of our lives. We weren’t just changing addresses; we were uprooting ourselves from everything familiar to start fresh. The cold hit us first, both physically and emotionally. We had to adapt to a new climate, a new way of living, and every step felt like an uphill battle.

I remember one of the coldest winter mornings vividly. After dropping my daughter off at her daycare, which was a steep 750 meters uphill, I slipped on some black ice and went sliding down the hill, almost like I was on a sledge. I saw people around me talking, but since I was new to the country and didn’t understand the language, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Unfortunately, I was also unable to ask anyone for help. Bruised and wounded, I eventually made my way back home. This experience was just one of many challenges I faced as I adjusted to life in a new country.

As we settled into our new home, I realized it wasn't just the cold we had to get used to. Navigating the legal systems was overwhelming—every form and appointment felt like it carried the weight of "doing it right." And then there was the language barrier. Even simple tasks like asking for directions, understanding the bus routes, or buying groceries became exhausting. Asking for help? That was a challenge in itself. I'd stand in line, trying to gather the courage to speak, only for the words to come out jumbled or misunderstood. It was humbling— how something as basic as communication could make you feel so isolated. People were kind, but cultural differences and assumptions added to the loneliness. No matter how hard I tried to fit in, there were always moments that reminded me I was still an outsider.

One of the hardest things to navigate, though, was the cultural misunderstandings. People often made assumptions based on where I was from, and while most were well-meaning, it sometimes felt like I was wearing an invisible label. There were moments when I would hear people talk about certain customs or ask questions that made me feel even more like a stranger. Even in friendly conversations, I sometimes felt like I was walking on eggshells, trying not to say or do something that would reinforce those stereotypes.

It wasn’t just the social interactions that were challenging; it was also how different life felt on a deeper level. The concept of equality, especially in terms of gender roles or family dynamics, was different here. I had to re-evaluate so many aspects of what I had always believed to be the "right" way to live and adjust my expectations accordingly. In some ways, it was liberating, but in other ways, it added another layer of complexity to our transition.

Finding a school for my daughter, understanding the education system, and securing safe housing felt like monumental tasks. Every day was a new lesson in how things worked—or didn’t work—and it was tiring trying to stay on top of everything. Each time I thought we were getting settled, something new would come up, whether it was dealing with bureaucracy or the constant worry of job security and how our future would unfold in this unfamiliar land. People said opportunities were everywhere, but it felt like they were always just out of reach.

?What many don’t realize is that this journey isn’t just about overcoming external challenges, but about the inner strength it takes to keep going when you feel lost. It’s about confronting the biases you face from others, while also challenging the assumptions you brought with you from your own past. As an immigrant, you straddle two worlds: the one you left behind and the new one you’re trying to belong to.

I think of the Indian families I’ve met along the way, like us, trying to balance the act of integrating into a new society while holding onto their cultural identity. We cook the food that reminds us of home, celebrate the festivals that keep us connected to our roots, all while learning how to fit into this new world. And that’s not easy. The push and pull between integration and identity is constant. Despite everything, there’s an underlying resilience. The learning curve is steep, but with every hurdle, you are more determined to make it work.

As the train stopped and I watched these women board, I realized how common these struggles are. It’s not just about finding a new place to live—it’s about finding a new place to belong. Starting over is hard, but it’s also a journey of incredible courage and strength, one that too often goes unseen.