I miss my old international life

I fell in love with San Francisco but I miss all my previous homes

Hong Kong by night

I’m one of those annoying multilingual internationalists you love to hate. I was born in Kenya, spent my childhood in Rome, my teens in London, and my twenties in Switzerland. That’s not all. We’re Irish, both parents from Dublin area, and we spent Christmases and summers in our ‘home’ home in County Wicklow. My friends were from everywhere. Uruguay, Nigeria, Australia, Japan, Brazil, France, Norway, Italy, Canada, Argentina — the list is endless. I grew up fluent in Italian, then became fluent in French by spending summers with family friends in Paris or Lyon. I learned German quite easily and spent time in Munchen, Hamburg and Düsseldorf. My work took me all over the world. I traveled to 51 countries installing software, training sales people and drinking in exotic bars and hotel lobbies. I chatted invariably with other global floaters and we cheered about what a great life we had.

I was quietly developing the most boring kind of snobbishness, and it was coming out so people could see it. Smell it. I sounded like I was sorry for you if you lived in the town you grew up in, and if the highlight of your weekend was a multi-generation birthday party and barbecue in your backyard, friends, neighbors, grandma and grandpa, bouncy castles and all. Because I…