At first, back in 2011, when I moved to a small mediterranean island from Scandivania, I was excited. I mainly moved because of work but my life at that time needed a change, badly. I had just finished a ten year old relationship, my (ex) husband decided to move to the other side of the world at the same time and I felt there was no longer anything keeping me in my old home town (boy was I wrong).
Life moved on (it usually does). It mainly was centered around work, but I made myself a home and a life and all that shit and for a few years I was quite content. I am not the most outgoing person so I do have a hard time meeting new people but I also enjoy "self-selected solitude". There was a guy (there usually is) and some people from work I got close to. I even had people from home living on the Island for some time; both my oldest friend and my brother. When they left I felt more alone than ever.
Slowly I got fed up with all the things I initially enjoyed; the laid back approach to time in general (not just appointments), the weather, even the bread! I started missing friends and family back home, a lot. Once actually making a decision it all happened quite fast.
My letter of resignation was signed in February, and by March 21st I was back home again. Happy days! It took me almost a month to find an apartment but until then family (gladly) took me in.
Work sorted itself as well (not that I knew that when I resigned); I have a home office and am staying full time in the company for now.
Still excited every day for the things I've been missing; salty liquorice, typical Scandinavian dairy products, water pressure, lack of mold, lack of cockroaches, central heating et cetera.
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