A Central European Researcher on an H‑1B in the Bay Area

The email subject line I’ll never forget is “Non-Selected.” I got it last March, right as the cherry trees started blooming in Japantown and the hills in Marin turned that improbable spring green. This year, the blossoms are back—and so is the H‑1B lottery—but I’m writing from a place of steadier ground. I finally made it: a Czech data scientist in my late twenties, on an H‑1B in the San Francisco Bay Area, learning how to build models by day and a life by night.

How I Actually Got Here (AKA: The Lottery, Twice)

Like many of us, I came on an F‑1 to finish a research-focused master’s. After graduation I rolled into OPT, then the STEM extension. My first employer registered me for the H‑1B cap in March. Late that month, I refreshed my inbox until my eyes hurt. “Non-Selected.” It’s amazing how two words can feel like a trapdoor opening under your feet.

We regrouped. I doubled down at work—publishing an internal paper, volunteering for gnarly data infrastructure tasks nobody wanted. In March of the next year, my employer registered me again. This time, the notification said “Selected.” We filed quickly, used premium processing, and I remember the relief seeing the I‑797 approval notice. I still didn’t exhale until October 1, when the status switch actually kicked in. The timing matters: that gap between spring and October is its own purgatory.

A few practical notes from the trenches:

• Ask early about sponsorship. Get it in writing if you can. I raised the green card topic during my first performance review after selection; we started the PERM process to create a buffer.
• Keep a tidy folder of everything: passport, I‑94 history, I‑797s, pay stubs, degree evaluations. You’ll be surprised how often you need them.
• If you move or switch to hybrid work, remember the H‑1B is location-sensitive. We filed an amendment when my office shifted more permanently to San Francisco from the South Bay.
• It’s worth building a six-month emergency fund. H‑1B’s 60‑day grace period after layoffs is real, and so is the stress it brings.

The First Season of Bay Area Life

I arrived with two suitcases and a sublet in the Inner Richmond. I learned about microclimates the hard way—sunny in the Mission, wind so strong in the Richmond it felt like it could peel you from the sidewalk. My first weekend, I bought a fleece and a Clipper card and a loaf of sourdough because everyone assured me “you’re basically local now.”

I lived in three places that first year: a tiny room in a shared house near Golden Gate Park, a 2‑bed apartment in South San Francisco to be closer to the office a few days a week, and now a small studio near the Civic Center. Rents felt like physics-defying numbers to a Central European brain. What helped:

• I started with a month-to-month sublet and met people before signing a longer lease.
• I offered a larger deposit instead of a U.S. credit history. A letter from HR confirming my salary helped.
• I kept my commute flexible. Caltrain is great when it’s on time; BART is honest if you listen to it; biking is amazing, but lock your bike like you love it.

Costs change, but for context: house shares can still hover around what a decent Prague studio costs by itself. Studios and one-bedrooms easily cross into “I’m suddenly calculating square-foot prices for no reason” territory. If you’re new, give yourself permission to prioritize convenience over perfect. You can always move once you get your bearings.

Startup Culture: Sprints, Slacks, and Stock Options

Work was both exhilarating and disorienting. I joined a startup where stand-up is at 9:45, deploys sneak into the evening, and a good day is a model that actually ships and moves a metric. The language—runway, PMF, cliff, vesting—felt like a dialect at first. My manager taught me American “direct with a smile.” A PM once said, “I love this direction, but what would it take to halve latency?” Translation: we need it twice as fast.

On the visa front, I learned constraints are part of the architecture:

• Side gigs are basically off-limits on H‑1B if they aren’t sponsored, so I channeled my extra energy into open-source contributions and meetups.
• Negotiating equity is common; understanding what you’re negotiating is rare. I found a mentor who explained vesting schedules and how a “good offer” depends on your risk tolerance.
• We started the green card process earlier than I expected. Even if your category looks current now, starting early creates options.

Culture-wise, the Bay Area really is packed with people who think ideas should be tried. I got used to “let’s grab coffee” being code for “let’s trade context.” I learned to ask for intros and to offer them. I also learned that “How’s it going?” doesn’t require a Czech-level answer about the state of your soul. “Good, thanks—how about you?” usually does.

Navigating U.S. Healthcare Without Panic

Healthcare was the steepest learning curve. The menu at my company open enrollment felt like a calculus exam: HMO vs. PPO, deductible, out-of-pocket max, HSA. I picked a PPO my first year for flexibility; later I switched to a high-deductible plan to pair with an HSA once I understood how it works.

Two concrete stories:

• I sprained my wrist falling off a rented e‑scooter near the Embarcadero. Urgent care was the right call, not the ER. I paid a copay, got an X‑ray, then received an “Explanation of Benefits” in the mail that was not a bill (you’ll get a lot of those—don’t ignore them, but don’t pay them).
• Therapy: I booked telehealth sessions when the uncertainty got loud. My plan covered a number of visits per year; finding someone in-network took a few tries, but it made a noticeable difference.

Tips I wish I’d had day one:

• Pick a primary care physician even if you feel fine. It speeds up referrals.
• Always ask “Are you in-network for my plan?” and write down the representative’s name and date.
• Urgent care for most non-emergencies; ER for true emergencies.
• Dental and vision are separate and worth having if you can.

Finding My People

Homesickness came in waves. I didn’t expect that the smell of rain on eucalyptus would make me miss Central European forests, but it did. I found community by imitating my data pipelines: lots of inputs, test, iterate.

• PyData SF and Bay Area Machine Learning meetups connected me to colleagues who became friends. It’s easier to make plans after you’ve debugged someone’s code together.
• Sunday pickup soccer in Golden Gate Park gave me a routine and a reason to buy gloves.
• A Czech & Slovak Facebook group led me to a picnic where someone brought chlebíčky and we argued about where to find the best poppy seed cake in the Bay.
• Volunteering at a food bank introduced me to people far outside the tech bubble, which was a gift.

If you’re shy, start by showing up consistently. Offer to help clean up. Ask the second question (“How’s your week going?” “What are you working on?”). And don’t underestimate neighbors—our building does a potluck on the first Thursday, and I’ve traded kimchi for koláče more than once.

Day-to-Day: Small Things That Add Up

Spring is my favorite here. The hills in Marin explode with poppies. The wind at Land’s End cuts through any jacket unless you’re prepared. The Ferry Building farmers’ market on Saturday has strawberries that taste like memory. Baseball returns; a colleague took me to a Giants game and taught me how to keep score in a notebook, which is nerdy in the best way.

Transportation-wise, I mostly don’t drive. I use BART and Muni and occasionally Caltrain; I added an e‑bike to my life and learned that a good lock is cheaper than replacing a bike. When I need a car, I share one with a coworker for weekend hikes. Friends will argue about which burrito is best; I have strong opinions about Mission-style, but I will listen respectfully to your Carnitas-by-the-Bay argument.

Money is the unglamorous part of moving countries. I opened a bank account with my passport and I‑94, built credit with a starter card, and learned that taxes arrive in the spring like magnolia blooms but with less joy. I file federal and California returns and double-check my W‑2s; one year payroll mis-coded my local tax and fixing it saved a headache.

What I Didn’t Expect

I didn’t expect to feel so tethered to a piece of paper. Approval notices do not hug back. But I also didn’t expect people to show up the way they did: a manager who said, “Let’s align your visa timeline with your career plan.” A barista who learned how to pronounce the š. A neighbor who texted me during the last earthquake, “You good?” I didn’t expect that I’d find a version of home in a place where the fog has a name.

If You’re Considering This Path

• Treat the visa like a project plan: contingencies, timelines, documents, and communication. Ask for premium processing if your employer can swing it, and start green card conversations earlier than feels polite.
• For housing, test neighborhoods with short sublets. Figure out your commute habits before committing. The cheapest option can be the costliest in your time and energy.
• Learn the basics of U.S. healthcare in one focused evening. Pick a PCP, find an in-network urgent care, and set up a patient portal before you need it.
• Build community like you’d build a model: start simple, reduce overfitting (don’t rely on only tech friends), and iterate.
• Keep a “joy list” for hard days: ferry rides at sunset, pho on Clement Street, a seat on Caltrain with a view of the Bay, a call home to hear Prague traffic in the background.

I’m writing this on a Sunday evening with the windows cracked open. Somewhere down the block someone’s grilling, the scent mixing with jasmine and the distant sound of a cable car bell. Tomorrow the lottery results will keep rolling out for friends, and I’ll sit with them through whatever shows up in their inboxes. Uncertainty is part of the deal here, but so is the possibility that this spring is the one where things click into place.

With hope for your journey,