I've never lived out west. Growing up, my family made several moves along the East Coast. I studied at the University of Colorado, the furthest place west that I've called home. The last eight years have primarily been spent living abroad. I've lived in four different countries on three different continents. You would think that by now I'd be comfortable moving to a new location. However, this move has got me a bit out of sorts.
As strange as my nomadic history appears on the surface, I've always had an underlying plan. Long ago, I knew that I wanted to volunteer and learn Spanish, so I ended up in Costa Rica. When I decided to start teaching, I had other continents (Africa) and organizations (Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos) already in mind. I previously made a post about synchronicity which illustrates some of the "happy coincidences" in my life. But what about now?
I can't really pinpoint what it is that's drawing me out west. I've heard many great things about the Bay Area, so I have figured I'd give it a try. It'll certainly be a change from the tropical landscape of the Dominican Republic and the dry desert of rural Namibia. But as I wait to hear about a pending grad school application, I'm cognizant of the fact that this move might not take. Perhaps this could turn out to be a failed experiment? In which case, I'll pack up my bags and move on to the next place. However, I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not the type of person who always has to be on the move. We'll see if that's true, as I attempt to do something I haven't done in over a decade - establish some roots.