Three years ago, I decided to take up a job abroad. I bought a last-minute one-way ticket to Hong Kong and told my friend to call Interpol if he didn’t hear from me the following day.
During my entire stay in China, I never called it home. I laughed at my roommate who called our apartment “our home.” I can still picture that one time I rhetorically asked him about it. Reflecting on that concept quite a while later, I accepted that I lived in China. And I am now confident to say that I survived her.
I didn’t have the usual employment arrangement where I would live in the city I work in for months. I already co-founded my technology company and got to go home to the Philippines about once a month. I’m an introvert. I can survive days with nobody else but my thoughts so I was hardly ever homesick. …
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