Safinejad, 40, and his family moved to Sunnyvale from Denmark in August 1999, when Safinejad accepted a job offer from a Santa Clara computer company. They bought the Sunnyvale house in April of 2000, but they aren't sure how much longer they can keep it. They aren't even sure how much longer they can stay in the United States.

Lured by Silicon Valley's economic boom in the late 1990s, foreign professionals like Safinejad flocked to the valley for high-paying jobs, stock options and the California sun.

The demand for high-tech professionals was so high that Congress raised the cap on H-1B visas—temporary permits that allow qualified foreigners to work in the United States. The numbers went from 65,000 to 115,000 in 1998 and then to 195,000 in 2000.

But with the dot-com bust, the valley is in limbo. Companies are struggling or have folded. The valley's unemployment rate is 8 percent. Once highly valued, high-tech stocks have slipped into low numbers. Now the cap on H-1B visas is slated to shrink to its original level in October 2003.

While Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan reassures Americans that the economy will eventually work its way through its current soft spot, foreign workers on a temporary working visa don't have time to wait for the economy to bounce back. If laid off, they have only 10 days to pack everything up and leave the country.

That's why Safinejad feels so uncertain about the future.

The network system company he worked for, which looked so promising three years ago, is likely to close at any time. During the past six months, his company has searched for more investors or acquisition opportunities by bigger companies but all efforts have so far been in vain. Many of its 60 employees are taking a leave of absence, waiting for further notification.

"In the worst case, we just move back to Denmark and start all over again," Safinejad says.

Safinejad and his wife, Vivi Rosendahl, fell in love with California when they first came here for a vacation in 1998. One year later, Safinejad accepted a job offer and moved the whole family to Sunnyvale, along with all their furniture.

The family, though excited about starting a new life in a foreign land, had a rough start.

As soon as they landed in California, Rosendahl needed to learn how to navigate through America's complex medical system. She was seven months pregnant. Their two children—Isabel, then 6, and Martin, then 2—spoke no English. In the first two months, Isabel broke her arm and Martin broke his collarbone; both got chickenpox and lice.

"It was crisis after crisis," says Rosendahl, 37. "In Denmark, you have a family doctor that helps you with everything. In the United States, you have to see different specialists for different illnesses. America's electronic telephone system is especially frustrating. It transfers you from one place to another and you never get to talk to a real person."

Despite the bumpy start, the family survived.

Rosendahl's homesickness has been eased by meeting other Danish people through the San Jose­based Danish Information Systems Professionals. Their youngest child, Mikkel, is 3 years old and the family's only American citizen. All the children speak fluent Danish and English.

But just as the family has started to enjoy their American life, they might have to leave the country.

"We haven't told the children that we might return to Denmark," Rosendahl says. "We don't want to burden them with unnecessary worries. But I started scrapbooking. If we really need to leave, I want them to remember they have lived in the United States. Right now we are hoping for the best."