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.
January 2019—I was still living in Farum, Denmark—still unemployed, and feeling the mounting pressure to find a job. Any job, at that point. I was even ready to give up on my career as a geologist. Despite all the studying, all the effort, and even an internship, nothing concrete had come of it. The frustration was real. But nothing lasts forever, right? Not the good times—but not the bad ones either.
A rare snowy Nyhavn
As a last resort, just to avoid moving back to Romania, I started considering a move to Hungary later that year. A fresh start: new country, new career, new opportunities. Hopefully. Maybe.
Then came an unexpected turning point.
Nostalgia Comes Knocking
Half way through January, I went to see the movie Glass with two of my friends, Venko and Abdalla. As we left the cinema chatting about the film, the conversation drifted—first to life, then to housing. Not abroad. Within Denmark. I admitted how tired I was of Farum. It felt like ever since I moved there, I’d left the best parts of my Danish life behind in Copenhagen. I missed the city. I missed the memories.
Exploring The Citadel during my early days in Copenhagen
Coincidentally, both Venko and Abdalla were also thinking about moving out of their apartments. That’s when I threw out a suggestion—half joke, half serious: “What if we moved in together?”
It made sense. Renting a larger apartment for several people was often easier—and cheaper—than finding a one- or two-bedroom place alone. The idea stuck. Before long, we were actively looking, even attending open houses. I only had one request: to take the smaller room, and pay a little less. They both had full-time jobs, while I was still unemployed. Our financial situations were very different, and I wanted to be fair.
The Apartment That Lit a Spark
We visited an apartment in a newly built complex in Amager, on Faste Batteri Vej. The area still had that “fresh construction” feel—unfinished corners in the courtyard, patches of gravel where grass would eventually grow—but the apartment itself? It was lit.
Three bedrooms, a spacious living room with an open kitchen, and even a balcony. Best of all, one of the bedrooms was slightly smaller, but it had large floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the space with light. I loved it instantly. The rent, when split three ways, wasn’t bad at all. Even though I’d be paying less than my friends due to my financial situation, it was still going to be more expensive than what I was paying in Farum. But honestly, it felt worth it.
Walks along the canals in Copenhagen
At that point in my life, I desperately needed a morale boost. Moving back to Copenhagen and living with close friends felt like exactly the right call. After thinking it over for a few days, we all agreed: We’d take it.
The move
The move could honestly be a story all on its own. We were three guys—none of us with a car, and I don’t think any of us even had an active driver’s license—trying to move into one apartment, all on the same day, from three different directions. To make things even more chaotic, we had plans to pick up various pieces of second-hand furniture along the way.
To bring some order to the madness, we called in our friend Bogdan—our unofficial strategist and logistics master. The plan was simple-ish: Bogdan would rent a large van, pick up Venko first, then come grab me and all my stuff from Farum in the afternoon. From there, we’d spend the evening and night picking up furniture, grabbing Abdalla, and collecting a second-hand couch and TV. We would move in that very night.
One last look at my room in Farum
The day arrived. My luggage and few pieces of furniture were packed and ready to go. The guys showed up a little behind schedule, but we loaded everything quickly. I vividly remember watching a beautiful sunset as we drove toward Copenhagen.
I was leaving Farum behind for good—and it felt symbolic. The stagnant, sour winds were finally shifting. Something new was beginning. A rebirth.
By the time we’d picked up Abdalla and loaded everyone’s belongings, it was already nighttime. The van was getting full, and we started to worry. How were we going to haul beds, tables, and a huge couch up several flights of stairs? The elevator in the building was tiny—it clearly wasn’t going to cut it.
The Couch: A Battle of Willpower
Ah yes, the couch.
It was big. Which was perfect for our spacious new living room—but a total nightmare to carry. To make matters worse, it couldn’t be disassembled. Still, we bought it. We’d figure it out somehow.
And figure it out we did—through sheer Balkan willpower, brute force, and a lot of swearing. We pushed, pulled, and wrestled that massive thing up a tight, winding staircase—floor by floor—until we finally reached the top (I believe it was the 5’th) floor. By the end, we were drenched in sweat and completely exhausted. It was around 3 a.m., but we had pulled off the unimaginable: moved three people, furniture and all, across greater Copenhagen, in less than a day.
The night of the big move in. Couch successfully in place and all.
We capped off the night with a celebratory meal at a nearby Chinese fast-food spot that was open all night. Sitting there, utterly wiped out but smiling, it was clear this would be the beginning of a beautiful new chapter.
Finally back in Copenhagen
After two years away from my favorite city, I was finally back in Copenhagen. This time, I was living in a fairly central neighborhood, which meant I could once again enjoy all the familiar places I used to frequent as a student—and, more importantly, spend more time with friends.
Not long after moving in, my flat mates and I began inviting friends over. Some evenings were for food and drinks, others were guitar jam sessions. It felt like life was finally falling back into place. Even if my career situation hadn’t improved yet, I felt more grounded, more at home.
Bogdan impressing us with his skills during one of our guitar jam sessions
But being back also meant new bureaucracy. Because I’d moved municipalities, I had to register with the local Copenhagen job center. That’s when they enrolled me in a mandatory six-week job search course—standard procedure for anyone newly unemployed in the city. The ironic part? I wasn’t new to unemployment. I had already been out of work for well over a year. But apparently, in the eyes of the system, I was “new” to being unemployed here—so off to class I went.
As absurd as it seemed at the time, that course ended up being one of the best unexpected turns in my life. Not because it helped me land a job, but because I met some truly unforgettable people—specifically a couple of hilarious Greeks who would end up leaving a real mark on my journey.
Greek Blood Runs Through Our Veins
Not long before this, I had taken one of those at-home DNA tests. Pure curiosity. My family has a pretty complex and scattered history, with a lot of missing pieces and unanswered questions. I just wanted to know more.
Spring was in the air in Copenhagen once more
The results were mostly what I expected: a strong Balkan, Central, and Eastern European mix. But two things stood out. One was a notable percentage of Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry. The other—more surprising to me—was a small spark of Greek heritage. Just about 5%.
That 5% fascinated me the most. Maybe because, in the months before, I’d already been drawing a kind of poetic parallel between my own journey and that of Odysseus—leaving behind my country of birth, wandering in search of a home, navigating obstacles, always hoping for a happy resolution. The idea that there might be a literal Greek connection hidden in my blood somehow made the metaphor feel more real.
Team Greece
It was right around this time that I met Makis and Anestis—two over-educated, unemployed Greeks who were stuck in the same job search course as me. From the first conversation, things escalated quickly: we went from casual small talk to deep dives into politics, philosophy, and history like it was nothing.
We became fast friends. It started as a joke—I called ourselves Odysseus, Achilles, and Agamemnon—but soon we were actually hanging out outside of class. One day, poor Makis had a full-on meltdown after spending hours arguing with a call center agent from DR (Danish Broadcasting). What started as a bad day turned into one of the funniest, most memorable rants I’ve ever witnessed. It lasted the whole day. Poor man had to eat a couple of cheap, shitty Frikadeller because the “DR mafia” had stolen his money. We laughed until our stomachs hurt.
Agamemnon, Achilles and Odysseus enjoying a BBQ
That late winter and early spring were filled with moments like that—serious conversations, endless jokes, and a bond that made the bleakness of unemployment more bearable.
It also sparked something deeper in me: a genuine curiosity to one day visit Greece, explore the culture, and connect—however loosely—to that little 5% of me. Not just to understand my heritage better, but to honor the strange and wonderful twists of fate that brought me to that job center classroom, and to the friends I met there.
Perhaps it was the move, or the change of the season, but I could almost feel the winds of change beginning to stir—gently carrying the scent of opportunity and better days. Life, as it turns out, was already setting the stage for an unexpected turn.
It’s been quite a few years now since that magical late-summer day in 2015 when I moved to Copenhagen, Denmark. I can’t recall much of the days leading up to my move. I assume it was just “business as usual” like it tends to be with me. Meaning that I don’t really spend much time thinking about it. Helps with not getting stressed and losing any sleep over such things. Then suddenly I’m one day away from the move, or whatever other given big event, and that’s when I “wake up” from my dormant state and start preparing. I do, however still remember in great detail the evening of my arrival and the day after.
Prior to my departure, I had managed to arrange a half-year accommodation contract through the student Housing Foundation. I recall it was a bit of a convoluted way of getting a place, but as I would learn later, it is really hard finding an affordable place to live in Copenhagen. I will come back to this discussion at a later point.
My cat’s long face when he found out I was leaving
For now, I had a roof over my head. I also kept working on my part-time job as a content writer. The pay was ok for Romania, but for Denmark it was little to nothing. Still, money is money and at least it would help cover some of the monthly food costs. The rent costs, however, I have my mom to thank for that. We had a little money put aside from a few years prior when my grandmother had died. She gave me all of that to cover my rent for half a year and help get me started until I would hopefully find a student job and survive on my own.
Luckily there were no tuition fees, as all education in Scandinavia is covered by the state. Still, I knew this would be the biggest challenge of my life so far and I was eager to prove that I could succeed.
The trip
There were no direct flights from anywhere near my hometown to Copenhagen. The nearest “big” Romanian international airport is in Cluj Napoca, my old university city. However, the closest you could get to Denmark is to take a flight to Malmö, Sweden, and then take a bus to Copenhagen. Another option was to take a shuttle minivan to the Budapest international airport and then take a direct flight from there. I chose the latter, because it seemed to involve less logistics.
High above the clouds on my way northwest
The flight was during the day, I believe sometime around the afternoon. A fairly short 1.5 hour flight. Not like the drive to Budapest, which took around 5 hours. Even though I was excited and mentally at peace, there was still an unconscious level of stress in me. My stomach was in a knot the whole day.
Arrival
My only contact in Copenhagen was my mom’s former work colleague’s son, Balint. I chatted with him before the trip and he offered to wait for me at the airport and help me get to my place.
I remember I was so disoriented when I got off at Copenhagen. Don’t get me wrong, I could navigate the airport just fine, but I was just so out of it all. I guess even without realizing it, or acknowledging it, the stress must’ve been quite high. I finally met up with Balint after checking multiple times his Facebook photos so I could recognize him. We then took the metro from the airport to downtown Copenhagen. That was Nørreport station, right in the heart of the city. There we had to get on one of the S-trains, but first Balint wanted to take me topside to have a quick look around. I’m fairly sure he kept pointing things out left and right, but I was like a brain-dead zombie, just smiling and nodding with nothing registering in my head.
A short train ride later we had arrived at Østerport Station. From here it was a short 10 minute walk to my dorm in Østerbro. On the way Balint gave me a bunch of life-tips like which were the better and cheaper supermarkets, or where to get a sim-card. Above all else, he emphasized on getting a bicycle as soon as possible. This is the number one advise I would also give to anyone moving to Denmark. Especially Copenhagen, which is one of the most bike-friendly cities in the world. Get a bike. You’ll need it!
Somewhere in Copenhagen…
Finally, we had arrived at my dorm where I met my new roommate for the next six months. His name was Nao, short for Naonori. He was a young exchange student from Japan. Very nice guy. Balint then handed me my keys and gave me more helpful advise, which I immediately forgot because I was so zoned out. After he left, I surveyed my new temporary little home with a smile, and then immediately rushed to the bathroom with intense diarrhea. That lasted throughout the whole evening… Yeah… I think the excitement/stress was a bit much.
My first day in Copenhagen
Before heading out anywhere, I needed to get my stomach back in order. So I went out to buy some rice to cook. There were quite a few supermarkets in my area and I had forgotten which one Balint was telling me about. I remembered he mentioned something about Irma, so I decided to give it a shot. I ended up buying the most expensive pack of rice in my entire life. As it turns out Irma is this kind of an exclusivist, all organic-type of supermarket. He had likely warned me that it’s extremely over-priced and I should try to avoid it. Ooof… Good start, good start.
Good old exclusivist Irma, where even a pack of rice will make your wallet bleed.
The next order of business was to get a local sim-card for my phone. The weather was nice and sunny, so I decided to just go out for a city walk and start exploring my new town. I had also talked with Balint about meeting up with him and some of his friends. They were going to be somewhere around the old port, a place called Islands Brygge.
Red bricks and Danish flags everywhere.
I headed out and started walking down the big nearby boulevard Østerbrogade towards the city center. On my way I purchased my new Lebara sim card and was once more connected to the world. I was delighted by everything! The red-brick architecture, the beautiful green areas, the funny-sounding Danish language in the background, it all felt so cozy and welcoming. I would later learn a famous Danish word for this feeling: hygge.
My first time walking along the Copenhagen port.
After a couple of hours of walking and still far far away from Islands Brygge, I realized I wasn’t going to cover much ground by foot in Copenhagen. Balint was right. I needed a bike asap!
Enter “Shame”
I went back to my dorm and started joining various Facebook groups for buying and selling second-hand bikes. It didn’t take long to pick a few out from the sea of posts. This one guy I had contacted said he could meet on the same day. So in the afternoon, I went out again to check out his bike. It was a simple looking little thing with a rusty chain and a damaged seat. His asking price of 700 DKK wasn’t exactly low, but he was hyping up the speed, quality and resilience of the bike. It was actually very light indeed… Oh, and the security lock was included.
Back to walking across the city
I decided to buy it. My first Copenhagen bike, with a simple word written on the frame: Sram. I never heard of this brand, but later on I would become friends with a Bulgarian fellow named Venko and he pointed out that Sram means “Shame” in Bulgarian. It would sure live up to its new name in the coming months!
My shitty little gem of a bike “Shame”
From crappy breaks to losing the chain in mid-traffic, Shame and I would end up going through quite a few adventurous months. But after discovering a free student-run do it yourself bike repair shop later that year, I would start upgrading Shame and turning it into a true joy to ride! I still left the chipped off seat as it was, just for nostalgia’s sake. Besides, who would even think of stealing a shitty looking bike like that? Little did they know, this shitty little bike was a true gem that I’d end up keeping up to my last day in Denmark four years later.
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.
