The Drawbacks of Having Lived In Different Countries

By the age of 23, I’ve lived in four different countries.

When I’m feeling too lazy and uncreative to come up with a response to the ever-popular “Give us a fun fact about you,” this is pretty much my go-to answer.

I’ve spent most of my life in the Philippines, the pageant-loving, typhoon-prone nation in southeast Asia where I was born.

At age 17, I received a two-year scholarship to an international boarding school in Hong Kong.

My dream of living in the United States came true when I was granted a full ride to the best university in the sunshine state.

Then, at some point in the last four years, I spent a semester as an exchange student in Dublin, Ireland.

The choices I made led to me meeting the amazing friends I have now from all over the world. They made it possible for me to begin and maintain a solid relationship with a pretty neat Canadian guy. My experiences—good, bad and in between—have shaped the views and goals I currently hold and take pride in.

This isn’t to say that moving around with my life in suitcases is all peaches and cream… Here are some ways it can be a bit much:

No matter where I go, people I love are far away.

My loved ones are scattered all over the world. With my immediate family in the Philippines, my boyfriend in Canada, and my closest friends in both those countries plus the U.S. and Hong Kong, it’s impossible to be in the same place as everyone who’s important to me.

I used to see this as a major advantage as a teen, thinking, “Wow, I have people to stay with in so many countries!”

The reality is: it’s really not the same as being able to see them whenever I want. That and I don’t even have the money to fly and see everyone frequently!

There’s also the issue of my every departure being simultaneously celebrated as an arrival somewhere else. One person’s gleeful “You’re here!” is someone else’s “I’m gonna miss you.”

Because of this, there are moments when my contentment morphs into guilt and homesickness. I become all too aware of the fact that at any given point, I am thousands of miles away from someone I care about.

I get sick of traveling…and airports.

A lot of people seem to adore the buzz of airports. To be honest, I’m not one of them. I am at a point in my life where getting on a plane feels like an absolute chore.

Let’s go through all the steps: dropping off baggage (and hoping against hope I don’t go over the weight limit), going through security, answering routine questions from stone-faced immigration officers, and enduring a butt-numbing 17-hour flight. *sharp exhale*

There is almost nothing pleasant about the whole thing for me. And, it’s worsened by the fact that 95% of the time, I travel alone (and economy!). If I could just skip this bit altogether, traveling would feel less like a hassle to me.

I miss holidays and important events.

Being present for meaningful occasions—happy or otherwise—is unfortunately not always possible for me.

Out of the four years I’ve been with my boyfriend, there has been only one year where we’ve celebrated our birthdays together.

It’s also sad to think that I spent the holidays apart from my immediate family between 2016 and 2019. Despite having a perfectly lovely time in the more snowy regions of the earth, it was impossible to quell my yearnings for familiar Pinoy food and karaoke with the people closest to me.

And while I was in Dublin in 2018, visa and financial limitations prevented me from attending my paternal grandmother’s funeral. This was a particularly painful memory for me. Grieving alone in a foreign country was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.

People have questions—and I’m not always prepared to answer them.

Ordinarily, I’m patient and even excited when people are curious about how I got from point A to points B, C and D. I join them in their fascination for my “nonexistent Filipino accent” instead of getting offended. I gladly give detailed accounts of the idiosyncrasies of each country I’ve lived in. Heck, I even willingly provide advice to those who want to take a similar path in life.

But at times, people make less than courteous assumptions about how my journey unfolded. My perseverance towards attaining debt-free education is ignored and reduced with bitterly delivered comments like “You’re so lucky your family is rich.”

Funnily enough, some hold opinions that are the opposite. People have assumed my family is dirt poor or that I’m ignorant because I happen to be from a “third-world” country.

These remarks themselves aren’t offensive to me; after all, my family’s relative wealth does make it less stressful for me to take certain risks, and there are times when American cultural references actually go over my head. However, it can be painfully challenging to ignore condescension when the desired effect is to cause offense.

It isn’t always criticism and judgment that I don’t have answers to, though. Sometimes, it’s innocuous questions and comments that I feel guilty about or simply haven’t figured out the answers to. Things like, “Your family must be so sad you’re far away,” or “You should go back and help your country!”

I get tongue-tied whenever I’m confronted with these questions because every possible response that pops into my head could be severely misconstrued as defensiveness or selfishness.

The novelty wears off.

I wrote this in my old blog from my time in Hong Kong:

I enjoy feeding my tendency to covet new ideas, new places, new faces. 

My 17-year-old self was excited by the prospect of leaving the Philippines and living like a true global citizen. Despite being a fairly sentimental person, I had no reservations about leaving people and places that were familiar to me. If I got exciting opportunities in exchange, it felt like it was well worth it.

Maybe it’s just because I’m older but I now find the idea impractical and, frankly, exhausting. For example: even after years of experience, I still have no patience for moving my belongings in between countries.

I guess what I’ve learned is that exciting opportunities or “fresh starts” don’t always lie in new places each time—it can be within a new mindset. In fact, most of the time, I feel like this should be the case. As time goes on, for me, it becomes less about the novelty that comes with moving and more about having smaller exciting things to look forward to each day.

Too many things seem temporary.

Every time I lived abroad, there was always the understanding that it wouldn’t be forever. After all, I held a student visa for each country, with the validity ranging from six months to four years.

Admittedly not the best at “being in the moment”, I lived these periods quietly anticipating the inevitable expiry dates.

Knowing that my adventures had time restrictions didn’t stop me from enjoying them. However, the pattern of transience sometimes made me feel uneasy.

READ: How I Handle Situations That Make Me Nervous

My desire for new experiences remains but I truly want to reside somewhere with more permanence. I want each travel to feel like a relaxing break instead of setting up yet another new home that I know I will eventually have to leave.

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As with any special opportunity in life, there are both good and bad aspects that come with constantly moving around. In my opinion, it’s good to be aware of them all!

I don’t intend to discourage anyone from having an exciting “nomadic” lifestyle, and I certainly wouldn’t trade my experiences living abroad for anything either.

Since my late teens, I’ve always been an advocate of exploration, both of the self and of the world. It definitely is in my personality to seek new experiences, but it makes sense for my needs to have evolved over time.

In the end, you should reflect on your own circumstances and values to make the decisions that make sense to you—whether it’s to embrace the buzz of a major city abroad or to return to the comfort of your childhood hometown.