“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”

– Anthony Bourdain

I've been a world-traveler all my life...

...which certainly has its perks. I am multilingual; few things shock me about distant cultures; without making a fortune, my life feels rich with experiences I carry with me wherever I go. Yet, as a young child growing up in various places, I struggled with the notion of "feeling at home." Where is home, when you are constantly uprooted? I was born in China and lived with my grandparents for the first two-and-a-half years of my existence. My parents had just begun an exciting journey into their professional life but were unestablished and with little funds to support a family outside of China. Still, whatever money they did save while studying/working abroad in London, they spent on me by means of costly international phone calls to a rural village in southern China. As soon as my parents secured stable research positions at the Karolinska Institutet in Stockholm, Sweden, they arranged for me and my maternal grandparents to join them. Our new home was humble and cozy, and that's how I liked it. The strange new world was big enough; I craved intimacy.

In Sweden, we did not own a car for the longest time; instead, my parents biked kilometers to work on weekdays, biked some more to fresh markets on weekends, and biked to my weekly piano lessons until my mom lost several sandal heels from the back-and-forth journeys over years. My childhood years were some of the best years of my life. I recall playing a lot outdoors no matter the temperature, taking the subway into town on a regular basis (every kid did this!), baking Swedish bullar (my favorite!), and even getting into serious trouble as an 8-year-old for sneaking out of school to buy Spice Girls merchandise at a subway station and getting caught by an after school supervisor who happened to be in the area buying chewing tobacco. I laugh at this experience every time I think back to it because, no matter how good you try to be as a kid, you are still a kid, and kids will be kids. 

And then came the next big move. At nine years old, I flew across the Atlantic with my mom---who was pregnant with my sister---to join my dad in Nashville, Tennessee. And it was there that the next chapter of my life began. That summer, I attended summer school for English-learners, and began fourth grade in the American public education system.  After living in Nashville for a year, we moved once again, this time to the neighborhood around Yale University in Connecticut. 

As much as I tried to glamorize my worldly travels at a young age, they were often rough, characterized by language barriers, cultural boundaries, and an enduring feeling of not belonging anywhere. Despite living in these many wonderful places, for much of my life growing up, I felt like an outsider. My personal travels are shaped by my first generation immigrant parents who left China in pursuit of further education, a brighter future, and more work opportunities. With each new beginning, my “outsider” tag did not make life easier, but it taught me resilience, helped build character, and importantly, allowed me to see and relate to those who struggle in every sense of that word. Being a world-traveler is a privilege, but it comes with its own challenges.

The late Anthony Bourdain once said, "But that's okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind." I couldn't agree more with Mr. Bourdain's outlook on the journey. I have taken much with me and hope to leave just as much behind for others to experience.

Thank you for joining me on this journey; I hope you will take something with you, wherever you go. 

Warm regards,
Catherine

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