After spending several formative years living abroad in both Italy and Nepal—two countries rich in history, culture, and diversity—I was filled with anticipation when the opportunity arose to move to Washington, DC, to pursue my graduate studies. The decision marked a significant transition: from the wandering life of an expatriate to the structured environment of academia in the U.S. capital. Although living specifically in DC had never been part of my grand vision, my time attending college on the East Coast had left me with fond memories of its energy and charm, so I naturally expected to enjoy what the city might offer. I conjured vivid images of jogging along the National Mall beneath clouds of pink cherry blossoms, spending leisurely weekends exploring the city’s world-class museums, and engaging in stimulating conversations on global affairs at refined embassy gatherings along the storied expanse of Embassy Row.
However, the life I ultimately found in Washington differed markedly from the one I had imagined. While there were aspects of the city that I deeply appreciated—the stately brownstones that stood as living testaments to its history, the cobblestoned neighborhoods that evoked a sense of timelessness, and the panoramic views of the Potomac River shimmering at dusk—the overall experience never fully harmonized with my expectations. The summer months, in particular, made this disconnect palpable: the oppressive humidity and blazing heat seemed to wrap the city in a relentless haze. I longed to escape to the ocean and cool my feet in the saltwater, but the Atlantic’s beaches were hours away, far too distant for spontaneous relief. The same humidity that weighed on the air also aggravated my allergies, leaving me fatigued and disconnected from the outdoor activities I so cherished.
Socially, too, I felt a subtle dissonance. At happy hours and social gatherings, conversations frequently revolved around professional pursuits, political debates, or the next career advancement—topics I respected but didn’t always relish after long academic days. I missed the more spontaneous, relaxed rhythm of exchange I had enjoyed while living abroad, where talk could drift freely between art, travel, and the curiosities of daily life. Despite these challenges, I immersed myself in efforts to make DC feel like home. I sampled new restaurants, attended small concerts, wandered through as many neighborhoods as my modest graduate student budget allowed, and spent weekends navigating local natural trails. Yet the elusive spark of belonging never fully took hold, no matter how determined I was to find it. In 2020, acknowledging my need for emotional well-being and a deeper sense of contentment, I made the difficult but necessary decision to leave the city.
In the months and years that followed, I drifted among several cities, searching for that elusive sense of home that felt both grounding and inspiring. None of them managed to capture that balance—at least not until I arrived, somewhat on a whim, in San Diego. Having visited California before during a period spent living in Long Beach, I already carried with me faint impressions of San Diego’s coastal charm: the expanses of golden sand, the easygoing demeanor of its residents, the sun-soaked afternoons that seemed to slow time itself. Something intangible about the city called me back, so I decided to give it a chance. After some experimentation with different neighborhoods, I finally settled in North Park, a lively area that seemed to embody the ideal intersection between urban vitality and abundant access to nature.
San Diego’s scale immediately struck me—it was larger than Washington, DC (with roughly 1.3 million people compared to DC’s 700,000)—yet it exuded a far more unhurried, inviting rhythm. Despite being a major metropolis, it never felt overwhelming or impersonal. The variety of experiences available within a short distance astounded me: from impromptu beach outings and open-air concerts to intimate comedy shows and hidden coffeehouses tucked between art murals. At any given moment, I could stroll to countless breweries or restaurants, and when I sought moments of solitude, a multitude of hiking trails waited just beyond the city’s core. Its weather—a near-constant temperate glow around 70°F—encouraged a lifestyle rooted in movement and outdoor living. I found myself snorkeling alongside leopard sharks at La Jolla Cove, hiking through the rugged beauty of Mission Trails Regional Park, or embarking on tranquil runs circling Lake Miramar.
Everyday scenes acquired a poetic stillness: swimming backstroke beneath towering palm trees at a public pool, their silhouettes rippling above me, or running along the pathways of Balboa Park as the sun cast amber light onto the museum façades. Beyond its scenery, I came to love San Diego for its culture—a pervasive sense of ease, openness, and authenticity that colored even the simplest social interactions. There was no unspoken expectation to dress up for every gathering, no need to perform ambition. Conversations drifted naturally among topics like work, weekend camping trips, shared hobbies, and travel plans. That fluidity of connection felt deeply grounding.
My daily rhythm transformed, too. On workdays, I frequently stepped away from my desk to take a brief walk or enjoy a few quiet minutes outdoors, drawn by the perpetual sunshine. It became an effortless way to sustain mental clarity and creative energy. Four years have now passed since my arrival, marking the longest stretch I have lived anywhere since graduating from college—and I still have no desire to leave. Though I occasionally revisit Washington, DC, to see friends from graduate school and to once again immerse myself in the museums I used to frequent, I cannot imagine calling it home again. San Diego continues to surprise me with its evolving layers: new restaurants hidden in streets I thought I knew, unexpected music venues in corners of the city that still feel undiscovered.
Perhaps there is no such thing as a permanent or ‘forever’ home, but San Diego, in all its warmth and possibility, fits the contours of my life today with remarkable precision. For now, it is enough—a city that embodies balance, beauty, and belonging in equal measure.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/left-washington-dc-for-san-diego-california-better-fit-lifestyle-2025-12
