in hindsight, january was definitely unexpected. a pleasant surprise, delightful beyond what i could have pictured or dreamed up for myself. it was very full, after december felt very spacious - full of languishing. it allowed so much love to flow in, however, because i made room for it. 

in january, in addition to setting out after fifty first dates and my first four, i also set out to pursue dry january free of alc and coffee. i set an intention to practice thirty-one days of yoga. i aspired to meditate each morning, in bed before rising. and finally, i wrote down an intention to cultivate novelty, awe. trying new things would do it. 

Now? i'd say that i tried and made space and achieved all of it. it wasn't perfect; no, all pursuits were incomplete -- which made them interesting and glorious. i'm basking in the warm glow of progress (not perfection). this might be because one, i did most of it (not all of it!), and two, because i was unexpectedly tickled by what i came across. 

Date 1

date one of 2023 was my second date with A, zoo guy who i met through a set up by a thoughtful friend. he was kind with a warm smile, chivalry and great communication. turns out he worked in tech in a similar role to my first. we had so much in common that at first, it felt uncanny. 

backstory: on sunday december tenth, he picked me up at home in his audi. we had been texting for a month, exchanging audio messages from LA to Singapore and back while he traveled with his family across asia and trying new foods that he'd tell me about. he was curious, ambitious, interesting, and my exact same age. i liked that he was ted lasso for halloween, that he booked tickets for our date, and that we had a kind-hearted mutual friend from my college years. we hugged and climbed into the car, setting off toward griffith park to see the annual Zoo lights at LA Zoo. we walked, rode the archaic carousel, and talked about our families and travels. he was an only child. it felt easy. 

come 2023 and we had postponed our date at least three times due to life. i was sick; he had a family emergency. we hadn't talked constantly but we both loved John Mayer and trying new restaurants. i hoped a bigger spark or flame would sizzle on this night. a weeknight Japanese food outing became a halfway meetup (he didn't offer to pick me up again, i noticed) and he suggested Silverlake, a hip & in-demand spot of which i hadn't heard. i wore my lucky red sweater and a black go-to top that makes me feel sexy but subtle. he greeted me out front - but he didn't seem to notice. 

i don't remember the contents of our conversation (is that a bad sign?). it felt similarly easy and effortless to talk to him, but in that way that a strong conversationalist finds it easy to be curious. he didn't ask me about me! he said a few "how about you?s". i insisted we could split each piece of sushi so that we could both experience the chef's selection; he insisted that i should enjoy the ones I picked and i notice/wondered if he didn't want to share a bite. there was friendship in the place of magic. there was comf yet casual warmth in place of a spark. i wanted fire. 

we chose a dessert that neither of us loved but ate in an effort to be polite. when the waitress brought the bill he didn't reach for it, so i offered to go dutch. he accepted. finally, when we left to part ways at the valet stand -- we quickly-awkwardly hugged when realizing that my car was "up" in line. when i reached home, he had already sent me a text that he was only feeling a friend vibe and wanted to let me know, though i was "a complete catch." 

date 1 of 2023 was complete but my ego (and wallet) were pained from this sticky sushi venture. at least i had tried somewhere new; i had put myself out there. the song that was playing in my head (and in my car the whole way home) was "Music for a Sushi Restaurant." but the zest for life and the longing in Harry's hit is what was lacking. I had to let the search continue. 

On the first week of the New Year, 
my self-love gave to me: 

Nine days of meditatin'
Eight days of yogi-ing,
Seven days of coughin' 
Six days of playin',
Five engagement rings (in my feed at least)! 
Four phone dates
Three prospects
Two dates lined up 
and a me that is finally READY.

That's right. It's a new year, new me and while that phrase has become cliche, I'm inspired to embrace it. Rather than let perfection or planning get in the way of progress, I'm starting the year off with my first post of 2023.

Allow this post to serve as a proclamation: of my yearly intention, my [albeit ambitious] dating goal and a record of my bold yet fearless pursuit of finally, after ten years of dating and tattooing and New Years intention setting... To meet my person.

Over the Christmas-to-New Years holiday, I was under the weather and thus cozied up on the couch in a deep bubble of introspection, self-reflection and pondering. As I envisioned the future and the life that I dream of, I knew with new clarity that I want a family of my own, and with it a life partner with whom I might grow, adventure, and someday co-parent a bundle of children (human or otherwise). I want to meet my person; I don't need to, but I'd love to and hope to so that I can expand, explore new depths of love & connection, support someone and be supported unconditionally through life's trials and its peaks! 

Inspired furthermore by today's LA hike (see above) with a fellow single friend, female and similarly thriving in her career yet seeking more, we agreed that we are determined meet our "persons" this year. Not only that; we both want to find "relationships of inspiration" through the relentless pursuit of meaningful love... which can only be uncovered and achieved by bringing our authentic and unabashed selves to the epic "hero's journey" that is dating.

Per the podcast Deeper Dating [by some white dude and psychotherapist that I now like, Ken Page] the quest for a partnership is just that: the most important saga and quest that we will ever embark upon, toward the "most important topic of the human curriculum," as he calls it: LOVE. My takeaway from his thirty-minute pod of the week is that we must persist... while at the same time, holding our own hearts in tender hands. If we can turn ourselves inside out in the pursuit of our most authentic and secure selves on this journey? Then, he says (and I agree) -- we can find the utmost love and adoration from another. 

So after my first week of 2023, filled with new daily rituals of meditation, gratitude and yoga, I am both centered on and at peace with the fact that I'm on this journey. My intention for 2023 is to find my person. It won't be easy, it might be tedious and the quest has been long to this point. But to find the object of my utmost affection and desire? Someone who's caring and conscientious, open and adventurous, both gregarious and humble, adaptable and ambitious? The journey ain't going to be quick nor painless -- and this adventurer wouldn't want it any other way. 

Here's to the next fifty[-two] weeks of fifty first (or so) dates. Each week I'll complete my practice, I'll go on at least one date, and I'll record what I learned or loved on the weekend. After all, John Mayer did recommend "Love on the Weekend" if no other kind. 

To dating with hope and courage on this heroine*'s journey. 
​
XOXO, 
Abroad Back Home 

August 6th, 2022

Five years ago today, I landed in Sydney Australia. I had flown via Maui from San Francisco after a stint in Chicago and two weeks in LA. I was on no shortage of a farewell tour and my final destination was only a mere six thousand miles from home: Down Under. 

It's funny how long ago that time period feels, while also containing some of the most vivid Sydney memories I ever collected. Maybe anywhere! I was alone, on the precipice of a new life chapter. I was hungry, a bit clueless, drained from already having traveled and emotional wiped from saying goodbyes, eating final meals, and checking off bucket list items like it was my job! It's not as though I was leaving the planet for an interplanetary frontier; it's not as though I wouldn't be home eight weeks later for Britt's wedding to Jeff and my second-ever gig as bridesmaid. However, it's easy to forget that the start of this new chapter was also the end of an era. 

Five years ago today, I left [my heart in] San Francisco. After three adventurous years of living in the city, trying new things and countless firsts and making an indefinite amount of friends and workBFFs? I was bidding adieu to Silicon Valley. SF was arguably the town that changed my life, sparked a level of my independence and introduced me to the people who would change my career trajectory. I'd fall in like and love with countless work crushes, neighborhood "holes in the wall," parks to lounge in and neighborhoods to explore. I'd rent my first moving truck solo, find my first two bedroom with a total stranger, stay away for the weekend with my first "guy I'm seeing" (wishing he was actual boyfriend and finding, also for the first time, the guts to tell him as much). I'd learn to love yoga, I'd train for a marathon, and I'd help organize my first charity 5K to bring my love of running across the city. I'd cross the Golden Gate bridge, take my first ferry to Sausalito, run across instead, and jog the entire circumference of this city in order to see it close up, first hand. 

It feels so long ago that it's hard for me to recall each local haunt, each fave. I miss the brunch place that was totally too mediocre for me to know the name, and I miss the coffee shop that was decent but beloved because of its reliability and proximity to our home (mere steps). I miss the Italian place around the corner where I found sanctuary when I was locked out of house and home, roommates out of town. I miss the rooftop balcony overlooking Coit Tower where I had countless housewarmings, roommates "byes," Galentines dinners and Bloody Mary fundraisers for Pencils of Promise. 

When I think back to that final week or two of farewells, I think I did pretty well at exhausting my favorite bites. I tried House of Prime Rib (finally!) and ordered Brandy Ho. I had Salt & Straw post park-day and got a Minty Mojito from the Philz coffee truck in the Marina Green. I probably fit in acai bowls from Basic Cafe and calzones from Italian Homemade. I remember that I wanted everything and also to do nothing, and simply savor life's simplicity. I was embarking on an adventure that would lend to [plenty more food and] new friends, new cuisines, new hobbies, and new horizons. Some things I'd carry with me, but I wanted to squeeze all the juice I could out of my city by the bay. 

Finally, I remember having oysters and bloodies with Nancy Dave Talia and Chels. My San Francisco fam was made up of none other more unconditional, more instrumental to my life here. If it hadn't been for the Lowerre's or Talia's friendship or Chels as my ride-or-die, I might not have found nor felt as at home. 

Now it's five years to the day that I touched down in Sydney. I ventured out for a jog around Darling Harbour... the same Darling Harbour that I had met at age 19 in my fleece peacoat. I looked out each morning at the CBD skyline atop the trees of Hyde Park. I reunited with Danielle, met Rupert, had dumplings with Ash... and then went to bookclub. Life would change forever, once again, and not for the last time.  
​
Five years ago today, I saw the sun beaming through those Sydney winter grays and thought: there's always a trade-off and yet, there's a silver lining on each new horizon. 

xo, 
Abroad Back Home

Friday
​September 4th, 2020
9pm PST 

As I sit under the covers in my double bed at my Carp AirBnB, I don't want to ever forget exactly what this feels like. Despite the discomfort, nerves, sadness and longing - I know that it's a special feeling that's going to also fade before I blink twice.

I am all showered and clean, a little overheated because I don't know how to control the water temperature quite yet. I'm wearing my Harry Potter PJ's from Peter Alexander, my sleepy lotion from Lush and my sterling silver moon from "baby anything" (a local jeweler) in Paddo. I'm also tired to the point of exhaustion, wired to the near point of delirium, and so ready for a hopeful twelve maybe ten hours of restful sleep after 24+ spent traveling.

I left Sydney on a rainy Friday morning after breakfast at Silk, almond flat whites and haloumi. I left with a quick hug from Pimm (my beloved barista), lots of tears from Lou and Des, tight squeezes from Sim and Michelle too, and the perfect amount of time and love from Phil -- my fateful fellow expat since college trips in 2010. I climbed into the lifts with Danielle and Becca just to venture down to the parking garage, where Dani had put her new Suburu for the night so that we could stay up late preparing,  talking, packing, and crying a little. The night before, I did last minute things like write cards and make a photo collage for James and Rupert. I cuddled my giant Rupert bear, and drank Vuerve, and had dumplings and noodles from my favorite hole in the wall place across the street. I opted out of my all-time favorite gelato -- Messina -- but only because I had boba tea with James that day instead.

My goodbyes on Thursday prior were both sad and anti-climactic. I packed early while Charlee and I sipped coffee from downstairs. I also hugged Liz, cuddled Scarlett and said bye to Wendy on the phone while staring over Coogee beach for the last time in a while. Liz and I had iced lattes while she held Scarlett, and I walked to the edge of the boardwalk's lookout (only to remember doing the same eleven years before, when I had last set eyes on Sydney). Who knew that 2009 would have been my first of two times saying goodbye?

As I sat with Liz and became overwhelmed by the daunting task of departing, I realized one of many lessons - that not only do I not have to do it alone, but that asking for help lets others be more vulnerable and trusting in me right back. Liz told me so in her beautiful handwritten card, but she showed me so when she cried on her couch or let me into her life during hard moments. That morning in Coogee, I sat on her baby blanket and did the same: shedding tears and hyperventilating while Scarlett nursed happily. I gripped the beautiful pink and turquoise mug they gifted me. Liz also got me tall socks that say: Watch out, I'll fucking hug you. I intend to keep those socks forever.

After my quick jaunt over to Coogee, I bid adieu to the girls and the beaches while heading home to transfer luggage to Fedex (and pay the cleaner). Our morning had been productive; the house was ready, my final possessions were on the balcony and James had deconstructed the bed so that I could sleep on it one final time (but so that L could also take it). Though I had wanted him to come over, spend time, help me take it apart and maybe break it down in the process -- I'm confident that everything that happened that afternoon was as it should have been. There were no drawn out goodbyes; no awkward chemistry or latent sparks. I gave him my final love letter in the form of a very brief and casual card - he took his jumper, gave me a hug and texted me Friday to have a "safe flight Xx." Just like these strange feelings tonight, that undeniable crush and love hangover that made my torso ache would soon fade too, slowly crystalizing into a fond and sexy memory. 

Tonight i fought my jet lag by chatting with friends & my new landlord Debbie, and by heading to the beach for sunset. I ran back to grab a jacket because the coastal air told me I wouldn't be warm for long. I'm so glad I did -- the ocean breeze off the waves was perfectly comfortable through my breathable sleeves. As I hit the sand and strode toward the tide for firm footing, I felt the ache and a lump surge into my throat as the day closed. I didn't want it to be my last day as abroad down under. Not yet.

The moment I turned west, seeking that sunset on the horizon and wondering if I had made the right decision leaving one coast for another, two dolphins rose out of the water directly in front of me. My heart skipped so audibly that I laughed, swallowed tears and didn't decide -- I knew that they were the sign I hadn't known I was looking for. If I've asked God and the Universe lately to help me know I've made the right decision, She did so immediately and showed me that I won't be alone here. As I walked briskly, listening to my familiar tunes and checking out my new skyline where the sky meets the sea, the dolphin duo kept me company. What were the chances of that?

I think it's normal to feel the sticky discomfort of a new place, a bit of solitude, sadness for what's gone and nervousness for what's to come. Heck, I should know the feeling by now: I've done this a minimum of twice by leaving LA and SF.... more when you count the times away, in strange dorms and hotels and apartments that were not yet mine. Each time, I sit in curiosity and also ritual: praying, listening, watching familiar characters on TV and lathering myself up in my favorite scent. I know that things will more than smell familiar soon.

Until then, I'll forever be abroad in mindset.

xoxo,
​Abroad at Heart

Dear Simba,

It's been one week since you looked at me... but you seem to like it here enough, girl!

I catch you lying around on the fake hard wood floors, always in a patch of sunlight and with your avocado catnip toast nearby. Sometimes, you're on the couch instead - at home on your gray fleece blanket or your cream colored sherpa that blends with the hair you leave behind. You wake me up at 6:30am, meowing for your daily drink out of the sink or squeaking because your feeder hasn't turned yet. At night though, you make your way into my room eventually and hop up onto the foot of the bed where you can nestle into the warmth of my legs under the covers. Wherever we go, some things never change.

​
My kitchen has its splashes of red and my living room with purple accents and Aquabump's "Rise" featured front and center -I have a quaint and yet perfect balcony. I can perch in my comfy rattan chairs from Wayfair, and welcome Simba to come out and join me - at which point, she doesn't hesitate. I have three small tables for all of my plants and we sit out there together, plant family and all - enjoying the aforementioned LA sunshine on my shoulders (and I can't imagine having found a place that didn't have an outdoor haven for us to escape to!). The work from home days are long but the space feels like me- ever under construction but also oh-so-me.

Since moving back home to the U.S. in September, I've had all sorts of ideas. I've crafted a new bucket list and made lists of the things I want: want to buy, want to craft, want to do and visit in my new life back in Southern California - Stateside. 

Sometimes I feel as though I haven't progressed as far as I would have liked. Then again, when I think about it, I'm proud of all the things I've accomplished - often for the first time. 

1. I went on a road-trip with my parents and visited Yosemite National Park (two firsts!)
2. I flew to visit DC once again, and drove to visit Brittany and Jeff at their place in Virginia for the first time since they got married. (insert: historic Jamestown ghost tour) 
3. I moved into my very own apartment for the first time 
4. I had my legs waxed (and I don't recommend the underarm region - ouch) 
5. I baked sourdough! 
6. I went on five new first dates - and had a dude cook for me in said apartment =) 
7. I drove to see my California besties in their new places: Chels in San Diego & Shira in Marin Country
8. I flew to visit both my high-school besties: Bre at her home in Orangevale and Jenna at her new home in Portland! 
9. I swam in this side of the Pacific (all over town: from Carp to Newport Beach) 
10. I made dairy-free pasta sauce with yeast & nut milk
*Bonus: I got promoted to a senior consultant -- and a global program manager

This is the thought that came into my mind, late one night on a hard week of missing my former home. 

These existential questions and residual bouts of nostalgia might be emblematic of something. Is it the five-month mark since departing from Sydney? Was it the uncharacteristically touching few words from my old housemate Rupert on our recent phone catch-up? Maybe these feelings have been amplified by the dermatology appointment I had this week (causing me to reminisce scarier moments of diagnosis Down Under), or my encroaching 32nd birthday. 

It most definitely could have been the letter from AU immigration, which arrived in my inbox Monday morning. My visa has been cancelled - due to my lack of employment in Australia - and while months have gone by, it reminded me that the chapter on Oz is finally and officially closed. Closed forever? Not necessarily! But this symbol, in a time of limited travel and pandemic constraints, made me yearn for access to the door into Sydney simply because it's locked -- for now. 

Over the past three years of living abroad, I spent a lot of time reflecting on what made me feel at home while living halfway around the world. That self-awareness is helping me now as I attempt to cultivate the life I wanted to create upon moving back to Cali. As an avid loyalist to my journal and nerdy goal-setter since childhood, I have determined eight areas that I want to cultivate in particular. I think they'll help me feel intentional, cozy, comfortable in my own skin, and supported along the way.

2. My home! I have looked forward to this milestone of living on my own for a while now. It's finally here - I'm in my own apartment! With the help of my sisters, parents and bro-in-law, I am nearly set up for the coziest homey space of "hygge" ever. I can rest, exercise, lounge, or host. I can bake, blend, create and even sit outside! Finally, I have countless blankets, candles and essential oils that will help me quite literally infuse Sydney into my home. ​​

3. My community - both old and new. I could not be more grateful to be minutes from the Welsh fam. Weekly dinner with the Brocks or routine backyard catchups have been the soul-fuel for my transition back home. While I am back in my home county and surrounded by friends from childhood and USC, it's been hard to reconnect with as many as I'd like during a pandemic. Luckily, I have Zoom trivia and Jackbox TV game nights lined up with my closest friends so I can stay in touch with them from around the world. 

4. My creativity. Something I've been missing is the hobby of embracing my tactile, analog creativity! Especially after long days of virtual collaboration and screen-time, I long to leverage my creative juices in the evenings. I can do this by way of crafting or puzzling. I've even started sorting my Sydney prints for a scrapbook-gallery wall, and assembling a photo collage on my fridge was a simple pleasure. My friend Sue sent me a jewelry-making mandala kit - which fittingly fits into multiple goals like my wellness and this one! 
​

Something I've been thinking about writing for WEEKS is the list of things that people never tell you. Who are "people," you may be asking yourself? The proverbial "they" -- the wiser and all knowing elders, the fellow expats, your friends who did something similar to you and perhaps moved abroad, built a life and moved home to their country of origin in order to be closer to [insert here: family, their calling, aging parents, better resources].

They don't tell you how bittersweet and weird it will feel moving back to the place you used to call home, yet so long ago. They don't tell you that your heart might feel split in two - divided by a chasm only x-thousand miles wide (and an ocean deep). They don't talk about the little things - seemingly mundane and too insignificant to possibly constitute "reverse culture shock." Am I petty for missing my coffee shop? My mattress? The Sydney coastal breeze?

I arrived on a sunny September morning after 15 hours in flight, twenty hours of travel combined. I walked through immigration at San Francisco International, reminiscent of many a work trip and morning spent looking for coffee through the fog of "the Mondays." I felt different this time, and yet immediately felt a piece of me so consumed by déjà vu that I was the same - transported back to age 25. I walked past the familiar terminals, acronyms and hanging symbol of red white and blue, realizing that I was back on home soil for the indefinite time being. It wasn't just a visit. I was moving "home" - but what did home mean, anyway?

My first weeks back as a SoCal resident have been smooth, familiar and yet sticky in the most unexpected places - like an old and comfy sweater discovered stuffed in the back of your closet or uncovered from under the bed after years, covered in dust bunnies. I drove on autopilot from the rental car hub up the 405-N, remembering college days and weekend drives to see my not-boyfriend in my early-twenties years. I connected to Bluetooth and called B, instantly grateful for the literal LUXURIES i hadn't had living in a hip metropolis for the past six years. Bluetooth and CarPlay? Starbucks drive-throughs? Don't mind if I do, I thought guiltlessly.

This year had been about choosing ease, after all.

I reflect constantly that there are parts and costs of traveling that people never tell you; they don't post them on Instagram or shout them from a giant-tree swing on their youtube travel vlogs. Traveling. home. is. HARD. Traveling period is taxing on the body, the soul, friendships, routine, our health, sometimes family, and unavoidably-- our wallets. But traveling home after time away is something that I have yet to read much about, and I want to know more.

Why did I hesitate? Am I too old? Is it too late? Will my family ever forgive me? I’ll never forget a local teammate at the time and future friend telling me that she had recently secured a new role in London. In response to my outward wondering of whether it was “too late to pull it off,” she said that “it’s never too late to pull it off if I’m 31 and pulling it off now.” Little did I know then that my boss Donna’s scenario also wouldn’t be the case. I’d have at least three roles ahead of me once I embraced the desired future I could no longer deny. That day, Abroad Down Under was born -- if only to be cultivated a significant number of months later.

The going wasn’t always easy, and I hadn’t even moved away from home yet. Once I decided that I was finally ready to, I started to experience a preview of the pains that come with leaving your home and everyone you know and love. I applied for a role in Asia’s glittering headquarters, Singapore. I was rejected for inadequate cultural experience with the intended market I’d serve. I told my current beau that this was something I had always wanted. He rejected my hopes of making it work and maximizing the time we had left together. I began to tell my friends and family that this was the aim, by the halfway point of what was now my 29th year. Some of those same friends asked why I’d want to venture so far away. Didn’t I like my friends, or love my life back home enough?

The implied notions – that I didn’t love home, wanted to be far from family or wasn’t enough of a cultural chameleon to thrive abroad anyway – led to inevitable self-doubt. There were months of wondering and conversing ahead of me. I faltered in confidence at times, but I also refused to falter when it came to having calls, reaching out to colleagues whose names I had heard and asking questions incessantly.

I am forever indebted to the friends and strangers who had “coffee talks” with me, even at my most clueless of times: Claire, Neil, Audra and Jonathan. Next, there were friends who I had recently met at a culture convention of sorts within our company: they were four new work-friends who hailed from Australia, and the perfect acquaintances to surge my aspirations and spark a fire in my search. To Millie, Kat, Chris and Mary: I couldn’t have done it without you!  Finally, I began interviewing for what seemed to be the perfect role Down Under: a job within my company and function that I was thriving in, amidst a slightly different business but related industry and newly growing team, into which I’d be eligible to transfer at my current level and into a young organization smaller than my own.

The more I type the words “little did I know,” the more I realize how little I knew about the pain that was ahead of me. There were countless heart aches, personal losses and days of uncertainty yet to come. At the same time, the road to the sunburnt country was also joyous and encouraging. I interviewed with two gentlemen – kind souls who pushed me and might have become adopted “dad” figures in Sydney – and the female mentor who would lead my soon-to-be greater team. I conversed with my god-sent recruiter named Millie, took my first stab at negotiating, and learned an endless amount by simply listening and verifying what I understood. The day I verbally agreed to come Down Under, I sat in a transparent glass-walled conference room on that same fateful Level 15 and felt – for the first and DEFINITELY not the last time – the bittersweet loneliness worthy of those on the path less traveled. Seconds later, I texted my best friend in the world since kindergarten, Chelsea - who had thankfully become a Work-BFF in the preceding year and worked in the same office that I did circa 2017. She immediately came to meet me, and held me as I sobbed with the realization of this thing I was manifesting – as well as the distance I’d be creating between me, and her, and home.

xo,The following months were a blur and a joy as well. I began selling my things and coordinating with my two roommates. I planned farewell festivities, took road trips across and down my home state of California and soaked up every inch I could have of San Francisco. Highlights stand out in my memories, of the small moments: laying in the grass outside my favorite city landmark, the Palace of Fine Arts with my more recent BFF Stephanie, her reading my tarot cards; sharing açaí bowls and body scrubs at a Korean spa alongside my three closest gals, both times cleansing the heart and soul of my SF-self in preparation for a new chapter. I relished in the glory of this city by the bay right as soon as I was getting ready to leave it. I went back to the aforementioned beau and gave in to the romantic bliss of knowing – or not knowing, rather – the expansive and distant future that was now ahead of us. I drove my cat and my things to Southern California, Mom there for moral support in the front passenger seat. I recall laying grasswards, watching fireworks in the final patriotic display I might witness as a CA resident for the next several years. July 4th fell a mere few weeks before I left the Mainland and country, and - surrounded by three women from different phases of my life spanning sisterhood, childhood basketball teams and later-in-life work friends-turned-soul sisters – I finally began to realize the implications of moving 6,000 miles across the ocean… including the moments, traditions, milestones and company that I’d miss.

There were constantly moments like the aforementioned one which simultaneously broke my heart and got me through at the same time. They began right then: one of those friends above gifted me a beautiful necklace containing the coordinates of home – asking me to be at her side during her wedding, regardless of where we were in the world! My sisters and Mom met me in a Hawaii for a well-earned stopover on my route to Sydney; there, they gifted me one of my most prized possessions still today: a simple, home-constructed memory box filled with notes from over forty of my other family members of friends to get me through the expat days ahead as a Broad Down Under. Finally, my beloved and pen-pal-extraordinaire Gramz not only wrote constantly but took my FaceTime call as I sat in the window seat aboard Delta flight XXX to SYD, August 4th 2017. She told me that although she’d miss me, she was also proud of me because going abroad would make me a better broad.

That was the day that not only my dream began coming to life; I see now that the woman I would become and the pages to follow were coming to life as well.

As I embark on a new writing journey of reflecting back on my time in Oz, I ask myself: Do I want to live hours of each day reliving my time and months in Australia? In part, I do. I've always wanted to write, not only to savor and taste life twice but in the off chance that I'll inspire one person to write too, or go abroad, or move away from home, or try something they might not have tried otherwise. Moreover, November marks National Novel Writing Month in the USA... and we know we'll measure our life by the risks we took and the absence of shots we didn't take! 

So to the past three years abroad Down Under that were to come… here's to relishing and celebrating them!
 
Xoxo,
Abroad Back Home  ​

​

Where to begin with what I miss about you most? The photos featured Maybe and Silly Tart and Jacoby's in Newtown. There were the work gals, the book club gals, the epic jumping photo next to your STAR - The Opera House. I woke today thinking of more things that I miss: including but not limited to Canopy on the Park, spontaneous run-ins in Paddington, mixed berry muffins with Jenna and long walks through Surry with Simran. I miss Paramount Coffee Project and PRC upstairs, not just for our final moments together but for what it WAS when I went to daily six AM yoga, had coffee there, and generally ordered almond flat whites wherever I could get my hands on one -- all before COVID times. I miss Humming Puppy; I miss the pad see ew from Chin Chin. More than any single place I miss your resident bachelor and Peter-Pan for life: Rupert. I miss his couch and his presence. 

Finally, I miss my days: waking to the glowing line where the sky and north of Sydney met the sea. Reading in bed after meditating to the city street sounds. Wandering down for a flat white in my freshly showered wet hair, donning my purple Disneyland shirt or Kindness is Cool jumper (it was winter when I left, wasn't it?!). Next, I'd work a bit; then, I'd walk again or escape through Hyde Park to the Botanic Gardens for that daily view of TOH. I'd cook Marley Spoon or sneak Macchiato wraps with haloumi for lunch; I'd stop at Coles for bakery cookies or more almond milk and fruit for smoothies. Finally, I'd chat with Rupert and crawl onto our couch with the blue and gray blankets. Though I know time will fade them, I don't want to lose these memories. 

What do you miss most about me? Can't wait to hear from you. 
​
Xo
Abroad Back Home