Sometimes it’s easy to describe. Bees. Skinning my knees. Stuttering. Loud voices. Cars. Bikes. No money.

But that doesn’t describe the deeper fear. That it’s loss, abandonment, loneliness, imperfection, lack of control.

There was once that I stood there, speechless, because I didn’t know how to describe it. Because the way I would describe it would have no immediate prescription.

Instead, I said nothing.

Today, I decided that it’s just easier, just easier to just say it.

…in a span of 4 weeks and 4 cities. I probably won’t do this again.

Dublin

London

Berlin

NYC

The photo is simple. One of my favorite photos taken during my trip—of Dublin, Ireland while crossing a bridge over River Liffey. I had set my digital camera to have a slightly longer shutter speed to capture the colorful lights bouncing over the water. It is amazing.

However, what it doesn’t capture are the emotions before and after. The nuances that I will always remember from that photo.

I had just rejected an invitation to dinner, hoping that I would catch up with someone who could potentially connect me with UX in London. My hopefulness and optimism came from a full day of conference networking—where I felt that I made genuine connections. For the first time, I really felt at ease. However, right before I took that photo, I went up to a female that looked like the person and apparently, I was wrong. Attempting to cover up my embarrassment, I laughed it saying that it was hard to figure out how people looked like based on their twitter photo. So I walked along the river…alone…feeling a bit lonely as I saw groups of people walking together to dinner.

Then I crossed the bridge and saw this amazing sight.

After the photo was taken, I went to the restaurant that the person indicated on Twitter. Of course, plans change and not everyone had data on in Dublin. I was the only Asian in the restaurant…and I stared at all the white females in the restaurant. In disappointment and anxiety, I ate a small dinner alone—of soup and bread—sitting near the window next to a girl who was listening to the ipod bopping her head up and down. Fortunately, I spotted the ice cream store across the way…and that was the only saving grace of that moment.

They looked at me and started gestured to me to come over.

I hesitated. But Chris gave me a nudge. Go! his eyes said.

But what do I have got to lose? For LOLz right? I thought.

So I walked over to stand next to the chef.

I stood behind the Japanese business men at the Izakaya restaurant. The guy holding the camera phone counted in Japanese. So I put on a smile, because this whole thing was so amusing. The group leaned together as we had known each other…friendliness and all. They said more Japanese to me but I did not understand a single except for kawaii.

I walked back to my table, mouthing to everyone WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED.

On the way out of the restaurant, the chef came over and said…so cute!. He gave a friendly punch to a guy friend, You boyfriend? You so lucky!

It had been two weeks since I had started traveling and I was looking forward to the two days that I would be spending by myself. In the past, I had loved those days, especially in foreign cities. I had wandered through Boston and NYC, discovering magic in every corner. And the same in Bangkok and Saigon. I would aimlessly eat and spend so wastefully…but all of it would be delicious.

But that Monday did not turn out to be anything like it. I had intended to start the day out by going to Tate Modern, meeting a friend for tea, networking with a colleague from IDEO…and then wandering around Marylebone…perhaps afternoon tea? shopping? And perhaps a meal at a famous Burmese place?

This is how it went down:

9:50 AM Missing package
I realized that I had left a box at my friend’s place—where I had stayed the night before. The box was intended to be delivered to the friend who I was meeting at 1 PM for tea.
It was 10 minutes to 10 AM and I had planned to go to the Tate Modern, but I could not find that orange box. In frustration, I stomped in my flat, glad that my host was not present. After a few texts and wandering about in fervor in Southwark, I hopped on the tube to West Kensington wasting half a few hours to retrieve the box. Fortunately the friend was hanging out at home. So all was well, but my plans to visit Tate Modern were completely disrupted.

3:27 PM Wrong address
I was so impressed with myself that I got to Shoreditch on time. I had taken the correct bus from South Bank. Although it went on a detour, I was able to get off at nearby stop and walk to the address…that was indicated on my Android phone. I kept looking for the coffee shop and found that the marker on Google maps was to a storefront that was obviously closed. Did the guy send me the wrong place? I was confused—because this seemed to be completely correct. Then it hit me. Earlier I had looked at the link on my computer and it had been close to Soho. But now when I had loaded the map link on my phone, it sent me to Shoreditch. I wanted to scream, “NO!” but thought better in a foreign country. After a moment of anger at technology breakdowns, I texted the colleague apologizing for being late and said that I would be there. I bit my lip and spent the next few minutes trying to wave down a taxi. As I sat in the back, I rationalized that at least I was trying out an old school black cab even though it was going to cost me 10 quid.

5:20 PM Lack of restrooms in Convent Garden
Just complaining. :)

6:30 PM Missing iPod touch bag
I realized that it was missing. NO! I thought again, angry. I told myself to breathe…as I was now wandering in Soho not completely in logical paths. It took me a moment to accept that it was missing. Then panic started rising as I started to wonder if I had my keys. The 30 seconds it took to find my keys raised my anxiety way too high…and somehow my resolve was broken. I knew that I could not spend the evening any longer wandering without panic and anxiety. I dragged myself to the last few places I visited where I knew that I had the iPod touch bag. I described it—blue with a mashimaro bunny. It’s sentimental really since it really didn’t have any value. Nothing was inside, but sorrow of its loss was growing. After the second place I visited, I accepted its loss.

7:20 pm Non-chocolate candy not visible in Tesco
This was supposed to be my way of feeling better, but I could not find it. I didn’t want any American candy and I was feeling my annoyance turn into something vicious. Fortunately, I found the right aisle 10 minutes later. About 3 quid later, I was happily stuffing sour wine gums in…forgetting the Monday I had.

About a third of the self-help books that cross my desk could be distilled to two things: first, if you can tolerate a little discomfort, you can achieve almost any goal; and second, it’s amazing the lengths we’ll go to to avoid discomfort. – The Two Things Project

For me, I can’t help but be who I am. The quirks, the weaknesses, the affinity to certain anxieties. It’s hard to pretend to be someone else, but it’s harder to just say this is who I am, so accept me.

Through the thick of spoken German around me, I immediately heard American English spoken. At that moment, it was a gleaming crystal in the dust. I had been traveling in Europe for almost 3 weeks, aimlessly touring, trying to find my ground.

I was magnetized and looked to find its source.

It was a short Asian female standing on the train—clearly with white headphones speaking into her iPhone. I stared at her, perhaps too long, trying to let recognition sink over me.

And then it hit me. It was someone I knew from Method—she was from New York while I was in San Francisco. We never met in person and barely spoke on the phone. And she went to the same graduate school as I did in a nearly equivalent masters program…but a year right before I started.

I hesitated, not quite sure how to introduce myself—knowing how stalkerish and awkward I could be. She probably noticed that I was staring, but she professionally ignored it. At the next stop, she walked out of the train doors…and…I had to take my chances. What was the worst that could happen.

As she was going up to the exit, I tapped her and she paused in her walk. I seized the moment and said, “Are you…?”

The moments after affirmed that my 2011 new year’s resolution was valid. You’ll never know what will happen if you acknowledge someone that you recognize.

“Today is my first day and my last day,” I said on Tuesday in an unwavering voice with bright optimism and slight melancholy.

As with most journeys, there is an end. A neon sign that lights up with the words “You have reached your destination.” Sometimes, it comes up unexpectedly. Other times, it just arrives as anticipated.

On Tuesday, I had my last day at Palm. I also had arrived at my decision to stay in San Francisco—for now, at least. And with that, a big weight lifted.

A few months ago, a friend said to me, “I used to think that not having roots was essential, but now I realized that it really makes a difference.”

It’s not that I am unable to detach myself from everything that I know. Despite growing up here, I only got to know the city in the last 6 years in varying ways and the people I surround myself with are not those from my hometown.

It’s that the personality of this city is the personality that I want to adopt. Even with the overt hipster-ness. The laidbackness. The absurd location-based social networks. The clash of gentrification in the midst of yuppie diversification. It’s right here that I want to stay.

Because there is no other city like it.

In Dublin, London, Berlin and New York City…it was the typical answer.

Sometimes, I would get the pressure from a local—when will the stars ever align perfectly for you? I did it, so you should too!

And other times, usually from good friends, I would get, I know why it’s not for everyone.

Dublin: Cheap. Laid back. Center of tech. Easy to jump to other parts of Europe. Closest to the states. Beer. And leprechauns (not from local of course).

London: The English. The diversity of languages and people. Compact. Center of Europe. Little of everything. History. The supposedly wicked sense of humor.

Berlin: Personalities. 24 hour parties. Beer. Openness. Innovation. Creativity. Vast history. English as a second language. Graffiti does not mean it’s a bad area of town.

New York City: Compact. Diversity of industry and boroughs. Easy public transit. Food. Everything you want. It is the city.