One Year Later

field notes on where my feet have been

November 5, 2025

Hi hi —

It’s a bright day in the Netherlands.

No rain, a touch of sun. I had to peel off my sweater because my new fur-lined winter coat (a €34 thrift find) was making me melt.

I’m writing to you from The Hague. During my time in the Netherlands, this will be the fifteenth and final bed I’ll sleep in. I woke up this morning after sliding my pink satin eye mask over my eyes. What did I see? Regal moldings on the white ceiling.

Yesterday I took the train here. Not the tram, not the metro, but the intercity line from Vlissingen, the southwest port city in Zeeland where the paternal branches of my family tree grow deep.

My great-great-great-grandfather was once the burgemeester, or mayor, of a nearby village. The Dutch Vermets started there sometime in the 1600s. They were humble Dutch farmers of sweet potatoes, we think. The Vermetstraat isn’t much of a tourist site, just cobblestone roads winding through quiet fields. But those are the same roads my ancestors walked. Wild, right?

There’s something grounding about knowing where my feet come from, even when I’m still figuring out where they’re going. Sometimes I ponder what it felt like to belong to a place for generations. To know that your roots and your future share the same soil. Maybe that’s something I’m still searching for, in my own way, on my own winding path.

circa my post grad summer in 2018

A couple weeks ago, on October 24th, marked one year since I stepped off U.S. soil, leaving my pitstop in Seattle for Thailand by way of Taipei.

One year since Americans surrounded me.
One year since my last trip to Costco or Trader Joes.
One year since I carried a house key that wasn’t temporary.
One year of being an immigrant, always with my passport, on a Visa.
One year since my U.S. SIM card worked or the dollar filled my wallet.
One year since English was the preferred language of everyone around me.
One year since I hosted friends or family in “my place,” because I haven’t really had a place.

It’s been one full year of experiments.

I’m calling it the year of exploration.

Curious, brave, simple.
A year of side quests and backpacks.
Of learning how to live with ultra-independence.
No agenda, no north star.

Learning by living. Some days that felt thrilling. Other days it felt like I was floating without a compass, hoping my intuition knew where the shore was.

It’s been a year where my actions continued to match my values and words. A year of connection, questions, and small embarrassments that led to growth.

When my cousin Joos asked me the other day, while walking down the beach in Breskens, about whether I was living the life that made me happy overall, not just while I eat an appelbollen dessert with whipped cream, I said “yes.”

cycling in Zeeland

“Every day, I write.
Every day, I learn something new.
Every day, I connect with beautiful people.”

Sure, it hasn’t been easy. There were nights I fell asleep wondering who the HECK I though I was doing this year abroad, and sunny mornings that reminded me why I keep choosing this path anyway. A stress-free conventional life isn’t my goal.

It might not be the year I made the most money (ten summers ago as a sailing coach trumps that), but a bank account doesn’t measure a life. When I’m gone, no one will ask for my balance.

Instead, this year I learned to witness fear and let it fade. I learned to separate my worth from a paycheck, to teach English as a second language, to build a house in a jungle, to try muay thai and tennis to make friends, to facilitate improv letter-writing workshops, to practice Thai massage, to date Dutchmen, to cycle across the country, to start a company, to be a professional petsitter, to be sober in more ways than one.

If anything, this year taught me that courage isn’t always loud. Sometimes it means to show up and quietly keep going.

This one year has been rich with exploration and priceless experiences.
And for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

Yours, <3

Jen

P.S. — I’ll save the full year-end-reflection for December. For now, here’s where my feet have landed with this digital snapshot to celebrate the fact that I did in fact live a whole year abroad, which was only a mere idea a year ago.

P.P.S. — the eighth and final country was added to the list of places in Ghent, Belgium with Joos.