So I made it out to the west coast. Actually been here for 6 months yet I'm still crossing things off of my tourist list, and I definitely am still finding new quirks out about this place daily. I have patients that describe locations and use street names that I can't picture off the top of my head (or literally have no idea where there are), but I do either one of two things: just nod and smile or admit that I have no idea where that is because I'm not native slash still wearing my tourist cap loud and proud.
The journey out here felt like a long one, not only literally, but also metaphorically, as it represented a transition not only during graduate school but beyond it...into the unknown life as an adult. Moved from lil' Rhody to Seattle and again to Portland. I counted that I've moved around seven or eight times in the past five years, and I'm pretty confident that number is going to increase a few more times.
Moving to the west coast from the east coast, probably the most noticeable difference was people being nice to you while you are getting your groceries. People take their time, ask you about your day and how you're doing, like it's a totally normal thing in the world. On the east coast, this is considered an invasion of your privacy. I'm honestly still not used to it. My parents raised me to practically be paranoid (do you REALLY need my social security number? Tear up anything with your name and address on it! Don't send that through the mail, are you crazy?!), so these seemingly innocent questions at the grocery store become an invasion into my personal space.
Overall, moving from Rhode Island to Seattle involved much planning, lots of coffee, two cars full of stuff, and friends in odd states. Went the more northern route and were almost delayed by snow in Montana, but our non-snow-inclined cars made it through. Sold/got rid of as much as we could from Rhode Island, and yet the cars were still almost full of stuff. Stayed in AirBnB's in Seattle and Portland, at first, after which we learned that it sort of sucks to not be able to fully unpack your stuff. You go through this rotating pile of clothes and items, not totally remembering everything that you actually own or constantly being like, "shoot, that's actually in my car." It got to this point where it was like, "okay, it'd be nice to have our own space." Own space to relax, to walk around naked (should we be inclined, even the option would've been nice), cook in my own space, watch my own tv, etc. I generally feel like I don't get much time to myself in my living space (my boyfriend works from home), so the AirBnB living just added to this.
Then there was the whole issue of finding a place in Portland (once we decided that's where to stay, oh to the vey). Long story short and after almost moving to one place then ended up going to another place, found a place across town from the AirBnB. Moving, in general, sucks, even when you've done it this many times.
But now I have my own space, and this space is nice. Still learning the ropes of all things Portland and I guess such is life. Working full-time is quite a doozy, but here's hoping I blog a bit more to channel some extra mental energy...