I had just returned from an adventurous and successful first rotation as an exploration geologist. After everything I had gone through in Saguenay over the previous year, Chicoutimi somehow didn’t seem quite as grim anymore. Three weeks spent in an isolated camp deep in the northern wilderness will make almost any town feel like a bastion of civilization.
More importantly, though, I had finally begun building a promising new life in an exciting new career. Spring was arriving as well. Winter slowly loosened its grip, giving way to milder, sunnier days. The skies filled with the unmistakable honking of returning Canada geese, while patches of green gradually reappeared across the landscape.
Even the intense smell of manure drifting in from the farms to the south couldn’t dampen my mood. It had become one of those quirky seasonal traditions of life in Saguenay. Despite all that, I knew I wouldn’t be staying much longer.
The honkers returned to Saguenay
I had been thinking more and more about moving away from the region. My ideal destination had always been Montreal. I missed the energy of a large city. I missed having countless places to explore, good restaurants to try, concerts and festivals to look forward to, and simply the feeling that there was always something happening somewhere. Montreal also offered a far more international atmosphere, where language barriers mattered much less and meeting people from all over the world came naturally. After several years in relatively quiet Saguenay, that kind of environment appealed to me more than ever.
Now, with my company in the process of establishing a Montreal office, I finally had every reason to make the move. All I needed was the right timing.
A Window of Opportunity
Fortunately, work was about to provide exactly that.
Although exploration geology is often thought of as year-round work, it is, in many ways, still a seasonal industry. Activity rises and falls with both the weather and the practical realities of working in remote northern environments.
Self-cleaning Saguenay duck
The busiest months generally run from early summer through autumn. As winter approaches, prospecting becomes increasingly difficult. Fresh snowfall begins hiding rock outcrops, while frequent low clouds and fog reduce the number of helicopter flights that can safely operate. Since helicopters are essential for reaching many exploration targets, projects gradually wind down as conditions deteriorate. Most field programs finish by October or November before shifting toward office work, planning, and data interpretation until the next season.
The opposite transition also creates a brief pause. For the most part, May was also considered a “dead month”. Melting snow turned many access routes into muddy quagmires, but the main reason for the shutdown was wildlife. Large-scale caribou migrations passed through parts of northern Quebec during the spring, accompanied by Indigenous hunting season. To minimize disturbance, exploration activities in many areas paused until the migration had passed.
That time in spring when the Saguenay fills up with Canada geese
For me, the timing couldn’t have been better. I had two weeks off to research Montreal neighborhoods and apartment listings before heading back north for one more rotation. Then, during the May shutdown, I’d have plenty of time to pack up my life in Chicoutimi, make the move, and settle into my new home before the busy summer exploration season began.
Finding a Home in Montreal
As I began looking into rentals, one problem kept creeping back into my mind. How could I realistically and cost-effectively view a potential apartment before committing to it?
Montreal wasn’t exactly close to Chicoutimi. A quick day trip was possible, but not without a car… which I didn’t have. Otherwise, I would have to spend a night there, adding extra costs and complications to what was supposed to be a simple apartment viewing.
The listings themselves, at least, were plentiful. Prices varied wildly depending on the neighborhood. I was still unfamiliar with the city’s layout, but I kept dreaming of living somewhere near the center. I wanted that almost mythical Manhattan-like lifestyle. Being right in the heart of a big, noisy, vibrant city. Of course, that dream came with a price tag. Anything close to downtown was considerably more expensive.
Eventually, after several days of searching, I kept coming back to one particular listing. It was one of several apartments available in a large residential building in Shaughnessy Village, managed by a major leasing company.
A Virtual Leap of Faith
The building itself wasn’t exactly beautiful from the outside. It was a large concrete structure with a somewhat dated appearance. But according to the photos, the inside had recently been renovated and looked quite comfortable.
More importantly, the location was nearly perfect. It sat on the northwestern edge of downtown Montreal, technically still within the downtown area, ten minutes walk from the Mont Royal Park. The building offered a common roof terrace, small gym and even a rooftop swimming pool. Although the latter turned out to be under renovation indefinitely. The rent, while certainly not cheap, being roughly three times what I had paid in Chicoutimi, was still surprisingly reasonable for the location. With my new income, it was manageable.
Northwestern view from the rooftop terrace
I contacted the property management company to get more information, especially regarding how I could view the apartment without creating a logistical nightmare. One thing led to another, and soon enough I was taking part in a remote apartment tour. A company representative walked through several available units using their phone camera, showing me the apartments and common areas. They were patient, responsive, and willing to answer all my questions. Whenever I wanted to see a specific corner of the apartment or building, they took the time to show me.
Of course, it wasn’t the same as physically visiting the place. There were always things you couldn’t properly judge through a screen. But given my situation, I decided it was good enough. If it turned out not to be the right place, I could always move somewhere else later.
A New Horizon
And just like that, within a matter of days, I went from vague ideas about leaving Saguenay to signing a lease for a one-bedroom apartment in Montreal. My time in Chicoutimi was truly coming to an end.
The last challenge was figuring out the move itself. I had kept in touch with Pedro, one of my old university colleagues. He already knew about my plans to move and when the time came, I asked if he would be willing to help me with the logistics. Thankfully, he was more than happy to help. We found a small window in early May that worked for both of our schedules, while also fitting with the short overlap between my two rental contracts.
I would rent out a cargo van and he volunteered to drive it to Montreal and help me unload. Then he’d drive back to Chicoutimi the same day.
Everything was falling into place. And before I knew it, I was heading back north for my second work rotation.
The Rotation Before the Move
My second rotation came and went much faster than the first.
Unlike my adventurous first work shift, there was no uncertainty this time around. The project had transitioned to using charter flights, so there were no more airport shenanigans. We now flew directly from Montreal to Mirage, with a quick stop in Alma, in the Lac-Saint-Jean region. Since Alma was only about an hour’s drive from Chicoutimi, one of my friends was kind enough to give me a lift. Just like that, my trip to work had become surprisingly hassle-free.
Stepping onto a small private plane sounds more glamorous on paper than it actually was. The cabin ceiling was low, the seats fairly cramped, and because the aircraft were so light, they were much more susceptible to turbulence than the commercial flights I was used to. Still, it was a fascinating way to commute to work. Yet another unexpected perk of the job.
The work, on the other hand, had already begun to feel routine. Most of the people were now familiar faces, with only a few new additions to the crew. The rotation itself was also shorter this time—two weeks instead of the three-week marathon of my first shift. It was a much more comfortable rhythm, allowing everyone to maintain a better balance between work intensity and recovery.
The Lake/River at Mirage during an early summer morning
The geological side of the work was becoming increasingly interesting as well. I was starting to better understand the rocks we were working with and the broader context of the project. There were plenty of exciting observations being made, but as is often the case in mineral exploration, those details will remain confidential.
For now, I was simply enjoying the learning process. Still, my mind was increasingly elsewhere. Between tasks, I found myself thinking less about the next day at camp and more about what was waiting for me in Montreal. A new apartment. A new city. New friends, and an entirely different chapter of my life.
The wilderness had given me a career. Now it was time to build a life around it.
The Move
Soon enough, I was back in Chicoutimi and it was finally time for the big move.
I spent a couple of days packing everything as best I could. The biggest challenge was finding enough containers and boxes. At Pedro’s suggestion, we visited a few supermarkets and large retail stores to ask if they had any spare cardboard boxes they no longer needed. In the end, I only managed to get one—but it was a large one, so it helped quite a bit.
Fortunately, I didn’t own all that much. My furniture consisted mainly of a bed, an awkwardly tiny desk, a desk chair, folding chair, the electronic piano and a lamp. Everything else ended up packed into boxes, duffel bags, backpacks, and whatever other makeshift containers I could find. Yet somehow, it was enough to fill the back of a cargo van.
And just like that, on an early May morning in 2022, I took one last look at the house I had called home for the previous two and a half years. It had been a difficult chapter overall, but one that also gave me plenty of unforgettable memories, friendships, and adventures. I handed back the key, climbed into the moving van, and quietly said goodbye to my life in Saguenay.
Pedro and I spent the drive across southern Quebec reminiscing about our years in Chicoutimi. He would remain there a while longer to finish his PhD, which fortunately hadn’t been affected by the financial turmoil that had derailed my own research. As for me, I couldn’t have been happier with how things had turned out. Leaving academia when I did had been a leap of faith, but considering how things turned out, it had been one of the best decisions I could have made.
My New Home
We reached Montreal early that afternoon. It was one of those perfect spring days. Not too warm, not too cold, with bright sunshine and clear skies.
Downtown Montreal on a hazy day in May
Since I had already signed all the paperwork beforehand, all that remained was to collect my key and finally see my apartment in person. The building actually looked better than it had in the photos. The lobby was modern, bright, and welcoming, while the apartment itself felt surprisingly spacious. In fact, it was so empty that my footsteps echoed through the living room. Furnishing the place quickly moved near the top of my priority list.
One thing immediately stood out, though. The hallways carried the constant aroma of oriental spices and home cooking from the many apartments. It became one of those characteristics of the building that sticks with you whether you want it or not. Personally, I didn’t mind. It was far preferable to cigarette smoke.
However, it also had its share of maintenance issues that became more obvious throughout the coming months. Keeping the apartment clean was never a problem on my end, but occasionally the odd cockroach would wander in from elsewhere in the building. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it was probably the biggest downside of an otherwise pleasant place to live.
Settling in
About an hour later, the van had been unloaded, and my apartment was now covered in boxes, bags, and furniture waiting to find their place. Pedro still had some time before driving back to Chicoutimi, so we decided to make a quick trip to IKEA.
There was only one problem. The store was south of the Island of Montreal, and we had chosen to leave right in the middle of afternoon rush hour… precisely when everyone else was trying to get off the island after work. Fortunately, I had Pedro behind the wheel.
Having learned to drive in Rio de Janeiro, Montreal traffic hardly seemed intimidating to him. After a series of impressively bold lane changes, and one particularly memorable maneuver that briefly had our cargo van occupying far more of Sherbrooke Street than it probably should have, we escaped the worst of the congestion and eventually made it to IKEA.
A few hours, several flat-packed boxes, and a couple of IKEA hot dogs later, we returned to my apartment with the beginnings of a proper home. I still hadn’t found the right dining table or couch, but that could wait. Little by little, the apartment would come together.
My apartment eventually took its final shape later that month
Pedro soon began the long drive back to Chicoutimi, while I stayed behind and slowly started unpacking my belongings. As I stood there, surrounded by half-opened boxes, looking around at my new home, it was the first time in years that I truly felt like I was in a place where I could belong. A place where I could slowly grow roots and build something more permanent for a change.
April 2019 — A year and a half had passed since completing my Master’s degree in Geology at Copenhagen University, and still no job in sight. I had applied locally and abroad, sent out countless CVs, and heard nothing but silence. Near the end of my patience, I was ready to give up on geology altogether and follow the path so many of my classmates had taken: switching into IT. Then, in the span of just one week, everything changed — five job offers arrived after eighteen months of nothing.
This was one of the great crossroads of my life: the moment that closed my chapter in Denmark and opened the next big phase of my journey.
A Few Weeks Earlier
It was just another ordinary day, the kind that usually gets lost in memory. Late March, 2019. Then, on Facebook, something unusual caught my eye: a post in the EUGEN (European Geoscience Network) group.
Just an ordinary spring day in Copenhagen, 2019
Remember EUGEN? The student-run network that organized annual summer geology camps? After the great time I’d had at EUGEN Austria the year before, I had joined their Facebook group. And half a year later, that decision proved unexpectedly valuable.
A fellow “Eugeneer,” Adrien — someone I’d never met — shared an opportunity: his supervisor in Quebec, Canada was looking for PhD candidates. I thought, why not? It was worth a shot, though I didn’t expect much after so many applications that had gone nowhere.
The imposing Grundtvigs Kirke in Bispebjerg, Copenhagen
To my surprise, just a few days later I heard back. Professor Lucie Mathieu was not only interested but eager to set up an interview. The conversation went very well, but questions remained: tuition fees, grant coverage, and whether the stipend would be enough to live on. It wasn’t a done deal yet — but it was the most promising lead I’d had in months.
Exploring Every Possibility
As I continued to look into the tuition situation in Quebec, I never stopped pursuing other paths. If there was one thing I had learned since graduating, it was that nothing was certain until the deal was signed. Among those other paths were two more PhD applications — one in Dublin, Ireland, and one at ETH Zurich in Switzerland. I also stayed in touch with my former supervisor from my 2018 internship at GEUS, hoping that one day, if a lab-tech role opened, he might have me in mind.
The sea of uncertainty was finally narrowing
None of this was new. I had been applying since 2017, endlessly sending CVs into the void. The only fresh tactic I tried came after a job-seeking course suggested I reach out directly on LinkedIn. Late that March, I gave it a shot, writing to an executive at Boliden, the Swedish mining company, to ask about summer fieldwork.
The Week Everything Changed
Up until mid-March 2019 — until that Canadian PhD interview — I had not received so much as a single interview invitation. Then, suddenly, everything flipped.
The financial uncertainties in Quebec were resolved: tuition would be minimal, and the PhD stipend more than enough to cover living costs. Professor Julien Allaz at ETH invited me first to a Skype call and then to Zurich for the final stage of selection, expenses paid. Tonny Thomsen from GEUS reached out with a one-year lab technician offer. Peter Svensson from Boliden called me to offer a summer job in Sweden after my speculative LinkedIn message. Even the Dublin professor wrote to express interest — though by then, overwhelmed with concrete options, I politely declined.
Cherry blossom at Bispebjerg Kirkegård
It was absolutely surreal. After nearly two years of silence, within a single week in April, everything was happening at once. I was ecstatic, but also frustrated and confused. Why now? Why all at once, after so long?
That week remains one of the most surreal of my life — the week I went from feeling invisible to standing at a crossroads of extraordinary opportunities. I knew whichever path I chose would shape not only the next few years, but the course of my life. And I wasn’t going to make that choice lightly.
Choices… So Many Choices
So many choices indeed. I had to pause and collect my thoughts. The spring days were warm and golden that year, and I spent as much time as I could cycling through the city streets. In the back of my mind I knew it would likely be my last spring in Denmark.
A melancholic visit to Amager beach park
The lab-tech position at GEUS was a solid opportunity, but it was only a one-year contract — hardly the stable future I was searching for. The Swedish mining job was tempting too: a real foot in the door of the exploration industry. Yet, it was only a summer contract, nothing permanent.
I couldn’t help reflecting on how much I would miss this place. Copenhagen had become my city — the city that gave me my first real chance to prove myself. And prove myself I did. My new apartment, right in the heart of town, felt like home again, especially living with two close friends. The sunsets from my window were spectacular and the apartment vibe was top. Well… except for that time when our ceiling sprung a leak and the landlord’s “solution” was to jam in a couple of metal rods and suspend two buckets in the middle of our living room. Still, the laughter, the company, and those views made it one of my happiest homes.
Newly built modern building. Great job guys! 6/10 – IGN
But choices had to be made. The path forward was narrowing. It would come down to one of the two PhD offers: Switzerland or Canada. Not an easy choice by any stretch.
In my previous blog posts I’ve mostly focused on my travel and adventure episodes from my young adulthood, which for me were the highlight of those years. However, I’ve also sporadically mentioned that these were not great years for me. Today, I wanted to briefly retell my story from those years and the life changing decision I was about to make, which also inspired the name of my blog.
After graduating from university, my dissatisfaction with my country and surroundings only grew with each passing year. Each trip abroad I was fortunate enough to go on, would only reinforce my desires to leave Romania behind more and more. For years I kept trying out various ways of finding work abroad, either through contacts, or constant job applications. Despite my efforts though, by 2014 it had become clear this wasn’t going to work.
I ended up working for a Romanian oil and gas exploration company in the south of the country. The job wasn’t easy and the pay was laughable. However, I tried to make the best of it and put on a positive attitude. That lasted about a couple of days into my first shift.
My “lovely” work site sometime in autumn 2014
Now I don’t want to get into the details of all of my gripes with the company and my time there, but suffice to say, this half-year stint only served to amplify my already highly negative feelings towards everything around me.
The winds of change
Finally, by the start of 2015, I had decided that I was going to try a new approach to leave. I was ready to go back to school and thus, began a personal campaign of relentless university applications across Europe. My main target country was Norway, which had left e tremendously positive impression on me when I visited it a couple of years prior. I’m pretty sure I sent out an application to every Norwegian university I could find. However, I was not going to limit myself to just one country. My war on stagnation had begun and my barrage of applications was going to blanket the continent!
My cat as I was telling him of my glorious plans to break free and escape
A couple of months into 2015, I parted ways with my employers in a fairly explosive telephone conversation. Although that unfortunate moment of emotional meltdown left a very bitter taste in my mouth and a dent in my wall, I also began feeling surprisingly relieved. Like some invisible chains shackling me down were starting to break. Within a few days I somehow managed to find a freelance writer gig for an upcoming travel-tourist website. Ironically the pay was almost similar to my previous shitty field job, while the work routine was incomparably better. This little job would end up being a life saver in the months to come.
A surprising outcome
Amid my application frenzy in early spring, friends and family sometimes pitched in with additional ideas for places I could try to apply to. One of them came from the most random of sources: a former work-colleague of my mom’s, who had a son that had moved to Denmark a few years earlier. I knew little to nothing of Denmark apart from its common history with and proximity to Norway. So I applied to a couple of Universities in Denmark too. Although my hopes and dreams still laid with Norway, I was going all in. Something surely had to work out!
As the application deadlines for each university went by, I began receiving the decisions day after day, rejection after rejection. I wasn’t phased anymore. “Reject me all you want, I will never give up!” – became my new attitude. A couple of weeks in, all of my Norwegian applications had been rejected. Yet in the email sea of hopelessness, two shining jewels emerged out of nowhere.
I made sure to re-read these emails multiple times to be certain I wasn’t misreading something, but the message was true and clear. My applications to the Masters programs at the University of Copenhagen and Aarhus in Denmark had been accepted.
Greetings dear reader. I thought to take a little break from the hiking in north-Transylvania series and instead focus on one of my most important and beloved travel-experiences: Norway. The story begins around early 2013. I was at one of my lower points in life, jobless and aimless, waiting on promises that would never come. I still clung onto a strand of hope that I would leave the country for a better future somewhere else. But it was becoming less and less clear where, or how.
It was during this time that one of my best friends, Daniel, was trying to cheer me up with ideas of going on a summer adventure somewhere abroad. We were half-joking about going to Thailand and then maybe I’d just stay there and try to open a cheap bar. I say half-joking, because there was real intent to the madness. I just needed to get away and do something else, start anew. But for me, money was constantly an issue, however Daniel promised he’d help me cover a lot of my travel costs. Slowly, but surely, as summer drew close it was becoming less of a joke and more of a plan.
However, the plan would change when a high-risk for tourists warning was given out for Thailand during that time. We floated around a couple of other ideas for places we’d like to go to. The one that ended up sticking was Norway. We were both fascinated by the Viking culture and dreamed of seeing the great fjords and mountains in the cool, wild north. Thus, as August drew close, we began planning our great road trip from Oslo to the west-fjords.
A Norwegian susnet
Plans change… again
Our plane landed in Oslo at around 11 pm. We were giddy with excitement to step onto “sacred” Viking land for the first time. We initially didn’t plan to book any accommodation, instead wanted to grab the rental car and start camping from day one. However, thanks to peer-pressure from our families we decided to book a room for the first night. This ended up being a very wise move. We quickly made our way to the car rental place. Daniel was in charge of the whole driving thing, I was a but a simple co-pilot and car-dj. As he was taking care of the paperwork, he starts searching through his wallet for his credit card. I will never forget how his expression gradually deteriorated from high excitement to sheer despair as he realized he forgot his card…
There we were at Oslo airport, extremely underfunded and unable to even take out the car he had rented. Our glorious travel plan crumbling to pieces. I started laughing hysterically, while he was beating himself up over how he lost his card. I mean, what can you do? Shit happens. It was cartoonishly funny.
We ended up taking probably one of the most expensive taxis ever to our hotel. Then I called my parents and kindly asked them to heavily load up my credit card with money. They would, of course, get this back once we returned. That took care of our financial issues, but we still couldn’t rent out a car, because they wouldn’t allow for one person to rent and another to drive? I don’t remember the reasoning, but it was very weird… Suffice to say, we had 7 days to spend in Norway and one night to figure out what to do.
The view from our hotel room in the morning – Norway, August 2013
Just have an open mind
It was a good thing we had that first night accommodation booked. It was also a good thing we didn’t have any other accommodation booked. We briefly considered spending the week in Oslo. Then we thought about taking a train up north to Trondhejm, or beyond. We could either find a camping ground, or go wild-camping, since this is allowed in Norway. In the end, we decided to just go to the Oslo bus terminal and take the first bus going north and get off where we please. Then, the next day, we’d do the same, in a different direction. Rinse and repeat until we both complete our primary goals: to reach the big fjords and to hike up a glorious Norwegian mountain.
Now I can’t say how the initial road-trip plan would have went. I imagine it would have been fun. But what we ended up doing instead was a way better adventure-trip then we ever expected! Perhaps it was the hilariously unfortunate beginning, or the sheer spontaneity that forged our plan. I don’t know, but every day was like opening a mystery box. Where are we? Where are we going? Don’t know, don’t care, but it’s fun as hell! This would be my first big lesson on how it’s better to be flexible and not stress about planning out the details of your travels.
Don’t stress, just gaze up and enjoy the view! – Norway 2013
Dokka – a little place in the middle of nowhere
We took our first bus up north. It was there that we discovered one of the joys modern western society: Nettbus, bus with free internet! Well, actually year later, Daniel tells me that Nettbus means grid-bus in Norwegian. But hey, there really was free internet! The experience was nothing like traveling by bus in Romania. The drive was so smooth and enjoyable. The roads were extremely well maintained. Everything was so clean… The landscape was also quite different. Mostly birch-covered gentle hills flanking lakes and marshland. We just sat back and enjoyed the ride, the scenery and the free internet!
Riding the Nettbus up north from Oslo
After around 4 to 5 hours on the bus, we decided to get off in a small little town of less than 3000 people called Dokka. The little town seemingly in the middle of nowhere had its own campsite! This was where we stayed for our second night. The camp was located near a small river. It was very peaceful, not crowded at all. The perfect weekend retreat after a long weeks worth of work. Daniel was hyped about trying out his mad fishing skills for the first time. I believe it was here that he lost his first fishing hook. Score one for the river.
Dokka camping ground, Norway
Our evening in Dokka was very relaxing. We cooked our meal by the river and had our first “wild” Norwegian sunset with some ramen noodles. On the next day, we decided we’d start heading west towards the mountains.
The cruel river that refused to provide us with fresh fish
