From Bulacan to Finland: One Filipino Family’s Leap of Faith

_{Image courtesy of Precious Karen Chico-Villeza}

In the quiet town of San Miguel, Bulacan, life for Precious Karen Chico-Villeza and her family was far from difficult. Their days revolved around a thriving family business—a beverage distribution network supplying retailers across Bulacan and Nueva Ecija. Her husband, originally from Dasmariñas, Cavite, co-owned a construction company with friends. By all accounts, they had stability, comfort, and the kind of life many Filipinos aspire to.

Yet, beneath the surface of their seemingly secure existence, small but persistent doubts began to take root. It wasn’t financial struggle that gnawed at them, but something harder to define—a growing unease about the future. Their daughter, bright and observant, would often ask innocent but piercing questions after their travels abroad: "Bakit ang linis sa ibang bansa, pero sa atin hindi?" (Why are other countries so clean, but not ours?) The question lingered, unanswered, in the back of their minds.

For Precious, the turning point wasn’t a single dramatic event, but a slow realization. News of corruption, safety concerns, and the unpredictability of life in the Philippines weighed on her.The constant safety concerns and their daughter's innocent observations started shaping their perspective as parents. They found themselves weighing the comforts of their current life against the long-term environment they wanted for their child's upbringing. 

_{Image courtesy of Precious Karen Chico-Villeza}

The Unlikely Path to Finland

Unlike many overseas Filipino workers who leave out of financial necessity, Precious and her family made the move for something less tangible but equally urgent—security, stability, and the chance to experience life in a country where systems worked. They didn’t rush the decision. As early as 2017, they researched options—New Zealand, Australia, Canada—but Finland, a Nordic country known for its high quality of life, unexpectedly became their destination.

On September 24, 2024, they arrived in Finland, not as desperate migrants, but as deliberate seekers of a different way of living. The first thing Precious noticed when she stepped out of Helsinki Airport was the air. "Ang fresh ng hangin, nakakaiyak," she recalls. It was crisp, clean, and unlike the humid, exhaust-filled air she was used to. The streets were quiet, the sidewalks free of litter, and even in the city, trees and lakes were never far away.

But the idyllic first impressions soon gave way to the reality of adjustment. Small things, like needing an appointment to open a bank account, felt frustratingly bureaucratic compared to the immediacy of Philippine transactions. She laughed remembering how shocked she was seeing eight-year-olds riding the tram alone—something unthinkable in the Philippines, where safety concerns keep children under close watch. Yet, these differences also revealed what she came to admire most about Finland: a society built on trust, simplicity, and respect for personal space.

_{Image courtesy of Precious Karen Chico-Villeza}

The Humbling Reality of Starting Over

Despite her background in hotel and restaurant management, Precious found herself working as a cleaner—scrubbing kitchens, washing dishes, and mopping stairwells. In the Philippines, such jobs are often stigmatized, but Finland taught her a different perspective. "Living in Finland has really kept me grounded and has been a very humbling experience," she shared. "It helped me mature and realize that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with menial jobs—there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Every job has its value, and what matters most is the effort and pride you put into it."For Precious, the dignity of honest work became a revelation.

Finding employment wasn’t easy. She applied online, half-expecting rejection, but to her surprise, she was hired within a month. Her Finnish coworkers, though reserved, were respectful. The work culture was a revelation—no guilt-tripping for taking leave, no pressure to justify personal time. If she couldn’t cover a shift, a simple "no" sufficed. The contrast to the often demanding, hierarchy-heavy workplaces in the Philippines was stark.

Language remained a barrier, but not an insurmountable one. Finns, she discovered, speak excellent English, and when they didn’t, Google Translate bridged the gap. She made an effort to learn basic Finnish phrases, not just for practicality, but as a gesture of respect for her new home.

_{Image courtesy of Precious Karen Chico-Villeza}

Family in a Foreign Land

The move reshaped their family dynamics in ways they hadn’t anticipated. Back in the Philippines, their daughter was driven to school; in Finland, she learned to navigate trams and snowy sidewalks alone. Precious admits feeling pangs of guilt watching her child adapt to such independence, but she also saw resilience growing in her.

Their small family unit—just the three of them—became tighter. Without the extended family safety net they were used to, they relied on each other more than ever. They kept Filipino traditions alive at home, speaking Tagalog, cooking Filipino food and connecting with other Filipinos in Tampere. The local Filipino community became their surrogate family, offering the taste of home—in shared meals, familiar laughter, and the quiet comfort of being understood—to ease the ache of distance.

Yet, distance had its painful moments. When her father-in-law passed away, they couldn’t immediately return to the Philippines. Grief had to be endured thousands of miles from loved ones, a harsh reminder of the sacrifices they had made.

Faith and Connection Across the Miles

Amid the challenges, Precious found solace in her faith. "I sometimes attend Grace Ministry Church here in Tampere," she shares. "It’s a Christian church that shares the gospel of God, and being part of that community brings me comfort and peace." The church became a sanctuary where she could reconnect with her spirituality and meet fellow Filipinos who understood the complexities of living abroad.

Technology also played a crucial role in bridging the distance. "We call each other when we have time, but we send messages every day," she says of staying in touch with family back home. "I also have a Facebook page where I post my daily life so they can watch me." These digital lifelines kept her grounded, allowing her to share both the mundane and the monumental moments of her new life in Finland.

The Unexpected Lessons of Migration

Precious’s story defies the typical OFW narrative. She didn’t leave the Philippines out of desperation, but out of a deliberate choice for something better. And yet, the challenges were no less real. The freezing winters, the bureaucratic hurdles, the loneliness of being far from home—none of it was easy.

But there were also quiet victories. The pride in her daughter’s adaptability. The dignity she found in work she once might have dismissed. The appreciation for a society where rules were followed, where pedestrians didn’t fear speeding cars, where children could play unsupervised.

A Message to Fellow Dreamers

For those considering a similar journey, Precious offers heartfelt advice: "Listen to the desires of your heart and trust God's plan for you. It’s okay to read or watch videos about other people’s experiences in Finland—whether good or bad—but don’t let the negative ones discourage you. Always remember that every person has a different journey and destiny. Be brave, believe in yourself, and trust that you can also do it—for yourself and for your family."

She acknowledges the inevitable struggles: "Don’t give up—the beginning is always the hardest. It’s completely normal to feel overwhelmed at first. Just remember, it often takes about three months to adjust to something new in your life. Give yourself grace and time. It will get better. Stay strong and keep going—you’re doing better than you think.True to her resilient spirit, she signs off with a playful nod to her roots: "Sabi nga ng Gin Kings, ‘NEVER SAY DIE.’"

A Life Redefined

Finland didn’t just change Precious’s address—it changed her perspective. The relentless pursuit of material success, so ingrained in Philippine culture, gave way to a simpler definition of a good life: safety, stability, and time for family.

She still misses the chaos of home—the warmth of Filipino chatter, the spontaneity of street-side taho vendors, the comfort of having family just a doorstep away. But when she sees her daughter thriving, when she breathes in the crisp Nordic air, when she walks down a street without looking over her shoulder—she knows why they made the choice they did.

Migration, for Precious, wasn’t an escape. It was a recalibration. A conscious step toward a life where the future feels less uncertain, where her child can grow up asking different questions—not 'why is our country like this?' but 'what can I become?'.

And for a parent, that might just be the most valuable thing of all.

Follow Precious’ journey on Facebook and TikTok @PreciousinFinland. Considering a move abroad? Her story is a reminder that courage, faith, and a little Finnish resilience can turn dreams into reality.