Lagging behind

Doubt and stress

We have already applied for a loan a few times in Norway, but without success. With Olivier's permanent job, we can finally get a loan, the bank told us a few months ago anyway. This week Olivier has already sent some applications and they are being processed. We have our own capital and with the possible rental income, the loan is not that big. Olivier calls a few banks on Friday and sends additional information. Once we have the proof of financing on Monday, we can finally make an official offer on a house. Exciting!

Monday morning Zoe is in the wilderness with her group, Olivier travels by train to Oslo. He has not been in the office since January and it is time to show his face. At 10:37 a.m. a message appears on his phone.

*"Vi har mottatt følgende bud: kr. 3.500.000. Akseptfrist 04.03.2024 kl. 15.00".*

Shit! Not now! There's an offer on the house. Olivier becomes stressed. Fear, tension and helplessness shoot through his body. We still have no answer from the bank and only have until 3 p.m. this afternoon to make a higher offer ourselves. Every so often, Olivier disappears into one of the meeting rooms to call the bank and broker. But where the banks sounded cooperative and positive on Friday, we now get a different message. Half of our income comes from WeLeaf, which is still registered in the Netherlands.
'Income from the Netherlands does not count in Norway. Only your income in Norway we use in the calculation, and that is not enough to support two people and pay a loan,' the bank's advisor tells us.
Even potential rental income suddenly doesn't count, whereas last week that was a plus. An advisor from another bank simply says he doesn't have time to do anything today. The bank's websites, however, say that the proof of financing is top priority, even if we have a viewing tonight. Apperantly not for everyone.

At a little past 3 p.m., the broker calls Olivier. “The owners have rejected the offer.
Whew! We still have a chance. Until late in the evening, Olivier works on a document to prove Zoë's income from the Netherlands and line up our own deposits for the bank. Tired, but with hope, Olivier crawls into bed.
Zoe, meanwhile, has very different concerns on her trip. One of the participants became seriously ill and had to be picked up by the Red Cross. Zoë is sick herself and is worried about the rest of the group and the long journey. What if she is too sick herself? Or if all the participants get sick? Guiding a winter hike with just two people is already tough. She needs all her reserves to pull through.
On Tuesday, a new offer for the house comes in, 3.6 million. All the extra information seems to be simply ignored by the banks. They simply brush us off with “no time today” and “Dutch income doesn't count” or they again ask for new information they need to thoroughly assess the application. Clearly, we are not getting the same treatment as a Norwegian. One of the banks we called asked as our first question, “Are you Norwegian? No. Oh, then you need more equity than 15%." We have more than that, a steady job in Norway and a business in the Netherlands with stable income. Yet every bank refuses to give us a loan. Olivier's physical therapist tells the same story. He is from Denmark and had been working in Lillehammer for six months. They had more than €100,000 of their own capital, but couldn't get a loan. In the end, his parents had to come from Denmark to become co-borrowers, and he pays 2% more loan than a Norwegian. An American woman we know here was told she must have at least 50% equity. With her job as a top researcher at a reputable Norwegian institute, any Norwegian could borrow a few million kroner in no time. A foreigner couldn't. It feels like discrimination.