I’ve been trying to figure out where to call home since 2016, a pivotal year for many.  

While the US was in the process of becoming more and more divided, my divorce had just been finalized. It felt like all the stars were aligning for a fresh start.

It was time to say goodbye to my old life and start over somewhere new.

A LOT has happened in the eight years since I left California: multiple moves, multiple heartbreaks, multiple business endeavors, and one baby. In 2024, I’m finding myself at a crossroads once again. (Let’s be honest, who isn’t?)

I’m writing this from San Diego which is very full circle in a way. My daughter was born here, and it’s where we’ve been for nearly four months now. Four. Months. This was supposed to be a temporary stop after Italy…just how temporary, I’m not quite sure. 

Every other day someone asks me where I’m going next. And every other day I respond with the same answer: I do not know. 

This line of Q&A is getting old now, even for me, and upon further introspection, I’m starting to feel restless. 

It’s time to make another move.

Here’s my problem. I am SO in love with traveling and living a nomadic life that there are days when I feel like I could do it forever. There are also days, however, when I just want a home base. A place where I can buy some toddler furniture and not accidentally leave it behind for seven months and counting. (I’m looking at you Playa del Carmen.)

Truth be told, I’ve always downplayed my international moves. I consider myself quite adaptable and have simply figured out how to make them happen. This time feels different, however. Perhaps because I have a tiny toddler to consider. Perhaps because the world is in a crazy volatile state. Perhaps because…life is just way more complicated in 2024 than it was in 2016. I’ve been feeling stuck lately, and quite frankly, I’m sick of hearing myself say “I don’t know”.

The how long are you in town for and are you ever coming back type of questions are what inspired what will be a series of posts on how to make these big life decisions.

I hope that by reflecting on what inspired me to make some of my biggest, boldest moves yet – like to Mexico and Italy – I will garner some insights to help me (and you, if you’re so inclined) decide where to call home. 

Part 1: How I chose Mexico City 

I blame my divorce. It was truly the catalyst for it all. I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same city as my ex. The heartbreak felt too big. Too raw. Everywhere I turned, I found myself in a memory. Our coffee shop. His bar. Where he proposed. You get the idea. 

I ultimately decided to leave San Diego, a place I had called home on and off since I was a child, for something more exotic. California felt predictable, but I was craving adventure. My soul was yearning for change in a BIG way, and travel was the thing that excited me most. 

After months of sadness, it was time to follow my joy.

I had always wanted to live abroad and now was my moment. I wasn’t tied down to any person (very single), any job (I quit), or any home (always a renter). What did I have to lose? Nothing. But what I had to gain from taking this risk was everything.

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After months of preparation and research, I hopped on a one-way flight to Ecuador with nothing but a broken heart and a black Osprey backpack.

While I used the internet to make some connections beforehand, I went totally alone and without any agenda. I had some savings and decided I would travel and explore for as long as my money would carry me. It turns out that would be nearly a year. You don’t need much to live well in Latin America. 

As I wandered, I knew it wasn’t only time to travel abroad, but to live abroad too. In every country I set foot in, I found myself asking:

Could I call this place home?

After a couple of months in Ecuador, I ventured north to Colombia. I spent nine weeks there and fell in love hard. The country left a special mark. I was obsessed with the people, the culture, the colors, the music, the dancing, the vast changes in landscape from the Caribbean to the mountains. At one point, I thought Medellín was it. Imagine a mountainous region filled with cute cafes, super walkable streets, and digital nomads. Yes. I was going to come back here to “settle down”!

This could be home.

The only downside, aside from some very real safety concerns, was that it was terribly far from the United States. I liked the idea of being close to my friends and family for quick, easy visits, and living here would require more planning and less spontaneity. 

I continued onward to Panama.

I opted for a scenic island hopping adventure to pass the Darién Gap, and at 32 was definitely the oldest person on my party boat. I slept under the stars. I woke up with a dip in the sea. And I found myself falling in love with Panama. Oh no.  

Fortunately, when I set foot in Panama City, I didn’t have the same experience I had while in Medellín. It was good for a dental visit (they were able to successfully fix the hole in my tooth where a filling had fallen out in the middle of the desert in Colombia, all while communicating only in Spanish…41-year old me is seriously shocked at the things I endured nearly a decade ago) but it didn’t have that spark. 

After my Panama moment, I took the bus and continued north, touching every country in Central America, including Costa Rica (pura vida!), Nicaragua (one of my favorites), El Salvador and Honduras (both of which did not make the short list but had their own special flavor), Guatemala (wow so lovely), and Belize (an incredible reef but “boring” because they spoke English). And then finally, Mexico. 

Ahhh Mexico.

Something shifted when I arrived here. 

Things just felt different.

This was home.

Excited by this realization, I continued my travels wondering which city I should base myself in. Which part of the country made the most sense? Where are expats hanging out? Most importantly, where would I feel happiest?

I started my journey at the southernmost tip of the Caribbean and traveled north through Tulum and Cancun, across the Yucatan where I passed through Merida (a home contender) filled with bright white buildings, pink flamingos, and endless cenotes, back down south through jungle and ruins, through an adorable mountain town called San Cristóbal de las Casas (another home option), Oaxaca (so artsy and adorable) and then finally Mexico City, a place I had only been to once before on a business trip.

My friend from grad school invited me to stay with her family, and I got to experience life as a local for a couple weeks. It was through this lens that I ultimately made the decision to add Mexico City to my list of potential home bases. 

I told her how excited I was by the possibility of living in Mexico and ran her through my three options: Merida, San Cristóbal de las Casas, and Mexico City. Merida is for families, she said. Campeche is too small and very hard to get in and out of, another big deciding factor for me that I somehow overlooked.

She assured me that as a young, single entrepreneur I would absolutely LOVE Mexico City. Plus, she would connect me with her friends. 

It felt like all the dots had finally connected.

All it took was one conversation…and a whole series of smaller decisions before that. 

Mexico City was going to be my new home.

My year of solo travel abroad was exactly what I needed to shake things up and make a change. Granted, most of us don’t have the luxury to abandon all responsibilities and just wing it for a year, but the takeaways are the same.

The journey was incredibly expansive. I got to see how others lived, and it made me question everything I had been doing up until that point. I realized that what I had been doing beforehand worked for me at the time (the relationship, the job, the education), and it wasn’t part of my evolution. 

As for when I would officially make the move, back in San Diego I journaled, reflected, and asked for a sign. The date came to me in a dream: March 1, 2018. (I’m not making this up!) So, I bought a one-way ticket to Mexico City for that special date, booked an Airbnb with strangers (a quicker way of meeting people), and trusted that it was all unfolding as it should.

I’m big on signs.

I ended up staying in CDMX for nearly three years, which is a lifetime if you know me well. I met so many interesting people, had roomies who became friends for life, and found my stride post divorce.

I was single, I was dating, I even fell in love again.

Mexico City was an important chapter and I’m so grateful I got to call it home, along with 22 million other humans. I didn’t force it. I hardly even planned for it. Instead, I followed the next best step and stayed open to what was next. I was full of curiosity and allowed my intuition to lead the way.

While the decisions I have to make today may not be easy, I’d say one thing is clear: It’s time to trust myself again.

No one — not friends, family, or social media — is going to have the “right” answer. It has to come from within. And sometimes having all that power can be a scary realization.