Coming Home, Changed
What living abroad taught me about the kind of life I wanted to come home to.
Well...
I didn’t see that one coming.
Two and a half years ago, after I was made redundant from Marriott International, I had pretty much written Philadelphia off as our next home.
When Yunki and I packed up our lives and moved to Mérida, Mexico, we weren’t looking for another American city.
We were looking for a place to catch our breath.
A place with a lower cost of living.
A place where we could regroup after one career ended and before we knew what came next.
Mérida gave us all of that.
And much more.
It gave me time to rediscover who I was beyond my job title. It introduced us to wonderful friends. It led me to mentoring university students, learning Spanish, and eventually, writing this blog.
Looking back, though, I realize something else.
At the time, every move felt like a separate chapter.
Now I can see they were all telling the same story.
The Reset
My American life gave me a familiar script.
I grew up in New Jersey and later lived in New York and Maryland. Like many Americans, we eventually found ourselves with a big house, a big yard, two cars, and far more possessions than we actually needed.
On paper, we were doing everything right.
But something was missing.
Then Marriott International moved us to England.
Suddenly our world became smaller.
And somehow, our lives became bigger.
We owned less.
We walked more.
Instead of hopping into the car, we wandered down high streets, caught trains into London, explored centuries of history, and discovered that an afternoon didn’t need to involve a parking lot.
I realized I didn’t miss the bigger house nearly as much as I loved the bigger life.
Qatar taught me something entirely different.
It challenged assumptions I didn’t even realize I had. Living in the Middle East gave me a deeper appreciation for tradition, hospitality, and the long, layered history of an ancient region. It also forced me to confront some of my own preconceived ideas.
And it showed me that extravagance and luxury don’t automatically create happiness.
Then came Mexico.
If England taught me to simplify, Mexico taught me to slow down.
To say yes to invitations.
To build community.
To spend more time in parks than shopping malls.
To appreciate conversations that lasted longer than errands.
By the time Yunki accepted his new job in the United States...
Something had changed.
I had changed.
Each move quietly rewrote my definition of home.
The Surprise
When he looked across the table one evening and said,
“What about Philadelphia?”
I surprised myself by smiling.
I’d spent nearly twenty years working in New York City, and I loved its energy.
The skyscrapers.
The theater.
The hustle.
The feeling that anything could happen before lunch.
But Philadelphia had always been the city that pulled me back.
It felt more human.
Less polished.
More authentic.
A city that seemed more interested in feeding you than impressing you.
I still remember visiting the Franklin Institute on elementary school field trips and walking through the giant beating heart was the coolest thing ever.
It’s still there.
I ran up the Rocky Steps at the Art Museum whenever I had the chance because... honestly... how could you not?
And then there was the food.
Soft pretzels with mustard.
Cheesesteaks.
Dim sum in Chinatown.
Spaghetti and meatballs at Ralph’s, the oldest family-owned Italian restaurant in the U.S.
Doughnuts from Beiler’s in Reading Terminal Market.
Philadelphia had quietly been collecting happy memories my entire life.
But this time...
I wasn’t looking at it through the eyes of a tourist.
I was looking at it through the eyes of someone who finally knew what mattered.
The Choice
I wasn’t looking for the biggest apartment.
Or the newest building.
Or even the lowest rent.
I was looking for mornings I could walk to a coffee shop.
A neighborhood where I knew the shopkeepers.
A train instead of another highway.
History.
Community.
Walkability.
I was looking for a way of life.
The kind of everyday life I had fallen in love with abroad in the UK and hoped to carry into this next chapter.
That’s when Ardmore appeared on my radar.
Neither of us had ever heard of it.
Within hours, I was doing what I always do when researching destinations.
Watching YouTube videos.
Interrogating ChatGPT.
Comparing neighborhoods.
Poor Yunki hadn’t even started his new job, and I had found our apartment, grilled the leasing office with questions, and convinced us to sign a lease based on nothing more than a virtual tour.
I’m beginning to think apartment hunting should be an Olympic sport.
If it is, I’d like to collect my gold medal now.
But somehow...
It all made perfect sense.
It took living in four countries to realize I wasn’t searching for a city anymore.
I was searching for a way of living.
Funny thing is...
I had to leave home to discover what home really meant.
Philadelphia wasn’t taking me backward.
It was bringing me full circle.
I’m coming home again.
Only this time, I know what home means.
Welcome (back) home! 🏠
Ardmore! I remember trips to the bank there with my Grandfather in the late 50s or early 60s. Looks like it's had quite a transformation. My grandparents lived in Havertown, and we mostly shopped at the little stores in Havertown, or at the shopping centers. I think the bank was the only reason for trips to Ardmore. So I'm fascinated to see what it's become!