Our Third Off-Season – America, Again

We spent our third off-season – aside from a few weeks with family – in Alaska and the U.S. In Charleston, we rented a car and set out along the East Coast toward Miami, scouting for real estate. Jill and Joern, friends who had recently moved from Norway to Charlotte (just 300 km from Charleston), spent a few days with us and joined us on a trip to Savannah.

Savannah is an unbelievably beautiful city. Small parks tucked between the streets, lots of local shops and charming little boutiques. It even has a stunning beach. Charleston and Savannah are both in the state of Georgia – and politically, it doesn’t get much more right-leaning. We knew that. What we didn’t know was how much it would affect everyday life. Political communication. Communication in general.

We had been in US over 20 times but rarely in red states. We learned quickly. And we also realized: we wouldn’t be able to tolerate that for long.

From Savannah, we continued south along the coast – through Saint Augustine and Palm Beach, then Fort Lauderdale, and finally Miami. From previous visits, we already knew that – despite our friends Jana and Dan Brown – Miami wasn’t exactly the place we wanted to live.

Then we met Rebeca.
We were at the harbor, peeking (once again) into a real estate office window filled with glossy, dreamy listings. The agency’s name was Compass – a fitting match for two sailors. Inside, Rebeca greeted us warmly and patiently listened to our list of wishes. And that’s when we heard the name for the first time: Coconut Grove.

The very next day, we went there with her. And it was – stunning. Like a jungle inside the city. A small, stylish center. A city within the city. And best of all: the people. International, cheerful, and kind.

The first homes we visited were straight out of a dream. Always surrounded by large gardens, with pools and wild peacocks strolling through the streets. Holger was ready to move in on the spot. Our favorite, though, wasn’t finished yet. It had two floors instead of one, a glorious mango tree in the garden, and no sea view – but it felt like the jungle had embraced us.

We looked at a few alternatives – which is always madness when you’re already in love – and meanwhile, the price of our favorite soared. And not just a little. It climbed to absurd heights. We thought about waiting it out, but the developer wasn’t willing to negotiate, not even a bit. 

Rebeca, who tried her best to cheer us up with more listings, eventually had to send us back to Europe empty-handed. Luckily, we hadn’t signed anything.

Because that’s when the real dealbreaker revealed itself: Trump. We truly never expected that people would actually vote for this individual. But they did. And thank goodness – early enough for us to react. The day after the election, we let the wonderful Rebeca know that we had ruled out the U.S. entirely.

Just imagine entering a country where you’re not even sure if your visa is still valid, or ending up in a prison in El Salvador because of a sarcastic social media post. No, thanks.

We have no interest in living in a country that is no longer free.