First Blog

In an ideal world my first blog would be about the laughing lady who serves the best Banh Canh Cua Ho Chi Minh City has to offer.  But the world isn’t an ideal place, and we can’t focus on soup all of the time - no matter how good it may be. 

As someone who moved across the country four times, I can tell you first hand that life changes - often suddenly and without explanation.   

When it comes to Traveling Uncomfortably in our daily lives, these are the life moments I’m talking about.  The life decisions that give you the Sunday scaries - the ones that make you pause.

If you spoke with me in the past six months, you’re probably expecting me to talk about our pending move to San Diego.  Instead I’m going to do a life pivot and talk about our second home purchase in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. 

Confused?  Yeah, me too.  Well, maybe not confused.  We know exactly what we’re doing.  Are we uncertain? Any life change is. It should be. Life shouldn’t be simple, life should be complex. If the moves you make in life are routine and ordinary, maybe you should switch it up. 

So why the pivot?  How did we go from determined to move back to sunny San Diego - our life plan all along -  to staying in Pennsylvania?  

Let’s first dive into a bit about psychology.  What is the chase?  What is the meaning of life? Are we ever satisfied? Will the grass always be greener on the other side?

Are we chasing familiarity?  Sunshine? Friendships? Nostalgia is a hell of a drug. Did I move so much as a kid that I have some psychological impairment?  We have to dig deeper. 

Most of my experiences in San Diego were before I met Duc; a bachelor’s paradise, or a single lonely hellscape?  I guess it depends on which memories I choose to suppress.  Life is funny like that.  Our brains can choose to remember the good, the bad, the ugly in any context. 

Most of my memories of San Diego are really good.  You never need to go on vacation because you’re always living in one.  San Diego isn’t a place to live, it’s a way of life. The weather is perfect, but it’s the people.  It’s the places.  It’s the things to do.  Like anywhere, it's the community that binds it all together.   

My life in San Diego was vastly different from my life now.  My Sundays in San Diego either consisted of hair of the dog at 9:30 am for a much needed - yet regretfully only temporary cure - in order to watch an Eagles game at 10:00 am.  Or, it was waking up at 1:00 pm wondering if I was going to crash out after 48 hours of hardcore binge drinking and a diet that consisted of Marlboro lights, DiGornio mini-pizzas, and ramen noodles.  In addition to the copious amounts of beer of course. 

That’s what is difficult for even myself to come to terms with.  In a cruel twist of irony, sunshine was often lacking in a city known for it.

For as long as I was in San Diego I thought about settling down and having a family.  Buying a house, building a future for a family I did not yet have.  For as long as I’ve been in Pennsylvania with the family and house I once longed for, I thought about moving back to San Diego.  The constant chase.

Is it possible to be completely happy in one place and yet long for another?  Isn’t that a conflict of interest?   What’s truly important?  Duc and I asked each other that question a lot over the past few months.  “One sheep, two sheep” no sleep. 

Aside from the four hours where we were convinced we were moving to Chicago, San Diego felt like the place we were most comfortable.  But just like wind can cut through you like a knife, so too can dreams and ideas.

The more we thought about what we value in life,  the more we realized what we have here.  What kind of people are we? Sunshine people - no question.  We love the beach, but prefer a city. We’re walking people. We love walking towns, specifically  our little walking town.  We love culture, food, and diverse restaurants.  I love progressive liberal leaning places.  Duc found out after the election that she does too. 

We love walking to the park with Lien, we love charming houses and old historical homes.  We love our sports. Well, I do.  Duc tolerates them, but that’s grown on her too. 

We want our child to go to the best schools, even though we aren’t school snobs. I’m a high school dropout turned college graduate. I'm skeptical that the school district matters, even though I’m smart enough to understand that they do.  This school district is not only one of the  best in the state - it’s one of the best school districts in the country. 

Now that we got the psychology part down, let’s go through family history.  Duc grew up in Ho Chi Minh City.  Far from a wealthy upbringing, I was there when she sat on her first recliner - the cutest moment I’ve quite honestly ever seen. 

I grew up going to the bathroom with candles when the electricity would get shut off for lack of payment.  I’ve taken plenty of cold showers when we couldn’t afford to heat the home. I used to wake up every morning stepping over old rusty nails in our bathroom floor, to throw salt at the slugs that would accumulate in our shower because there was a hole coming up from the basement.  One time a cat jumped out of there when my godfather was showering.  Remarkably he didn’t even blink. I guess when you see a hole in the shower, you understand there's a certain possibility - even a probability - something will jump out at you while you are scrubbing your armpits. 

We didn’t come from money.  We didn’t have an inheritance or a head start. Everything we have is earned.  But actually if you go deeper, we got a head start. We got it from our parents. Parents who raised us right, who fought like hell to help us succeed.  Who believed in us when nobody else did.  When other people said you won’t make it without a high school diploma, my mother didn’t blink. She gave me the confidence to be me.  Because of our parents, we now have the opportunity to do something special for our children.  We can give them a head start.

Statistically less than 2% of high school dropouts own two homes.  Only 4-6.5% of Americans own two or more homes.  I don’t cite that to dunk on that guidance counselor. Or the 95% of the rest of the people in my life who told me I wouldn’t make it.

I cite it because it all comes back to one thing.  My daughter. My wife and I have overcome odds to start to build a good life for her.  My wife is an immigrant, still new to this country.  We haven’t peaked. 

Having a footprint in the most popular part of the wealthiest county in Pennsylvania can only help us  in life.  Having a second home in the “Main Line” in one of the best school districts in the state - scratch that, in the country? That can’t hurt either. 

A high school drop out buying a home in a historically old money town, what are the odds? 

Since we are on a stat kick, here are some stats on the school district.  90% of graduates go onto four year colleges and universities. It’s a 13:1 student-to-teacher ratio.  That would explain the hype. 

We’re a sucker for walking towns.  That’s the only way to burn off all the boba tea we’re consuming.  This place has that.

You know why Duc wanted to move back to San Diego?  Not the weather.  Proximity to the Vietnamese market.  Banh Mi walkability should be a score on Zillow.  If it did, this place would get a 7/10.

Duc grew up in a city of nine million people.  When we moved to West Chester she thought we lived in the jungle.  Yes, that’s a direct quote.  Closer to the city, better public transportation. Not exactly city life, but very box checkworthy. 

As a progressive liberal, let’s just say it doesn’t hurt that Bryn Mawr votes left of both San Diego and West Chester.

Is this our forever?  Nothing is forever, even if you want it to be.  Promising forever is how dreams are shattered. 

We’re  uncomfortable, the best moves in life always are.  The anxiety signifies that something big is about to occur. Why do we fear that? Why not embrace change?  Why do we treat change  like a deep dark unknown - instead of what it really is: an epic new beginning? 

Lean into fear.  Understand that change is constant.  The unknown isn’t a deep dark ocean, it's an opportunity for learning and growth. 

This isn’t our new beginning.  This is our “live in the moment.”    

We have to rewind back to psychology.  This is the happiest I’ve been since we’ve left Vietnam. Correction, since Lien was born. My  mental headspace is set at the right gauge.  So much so that I wonder if I knew what happiness was most of my life?  Did years of addiction zap connections?  “How depressed are you on a scale of 1-10?” I always said zero, because I thought I was happy.  It’s not until I felt this level of happiness and excitement recently that I realized that my adult average is probably closer to a 4.  Today it’s 9 or 10.

I initially thought I was at peace because in buying this house, I found my place. I’m finally ready for that settling thing that used to scare me so much.  Family and white picket fence?  Horrifying. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the chase isn’t something I can turn on and off.  It’s a gift and a curse.  It’s a part of me. It  has given and it has taken.  I owe it for giving  me my wife and my daughter.  In return it asks for my sanity. 

It will never leave me, I will never leave it.  I’ll always be looking for something bigger and brighter.  Maybe acceptance is key.  Or maybe instead of just accepting it, I stop viewing it as a curse and start using it as an asset. 

Where will the chase take us next? What adventure will it lead us toward?  I guess the element of surprise is the best part.  Nothing is ever off the table, no door is ever closed.  We have yet to decide which door we’ll choose.  We probably never will.  A life of constantly opening new doors? I don’t know if I can think of a life more meaningful. 

I haven’t felt this happy since Lien was born.  Maybe that’s not a coincidence.  That new house we bought?  It’s not for a family of three, it’s for a family of four.  

- Travel Uncomfortably