4 Steps to Moving to a New Country

It was this time last year that I decided to move to Buenos Aires. During a weekend getaway with my mom and sisters, I confessed my restlessness.

I had a comfortable job writing for a newspaper in Silicon Valley, a cute townhouse near work, and a small group of fantastic friends. I was a few hours from my hometown, so I could visit family often. But I craved newness.

I’ve always enjoyed the process of transforming a foreign place into home — immersing myself in a different language and culture, figuring out public transportation, identifying my favorite cafes and bars and boutiques. But once I know a place — and truly feel settled — I begin to wonder where I could go next.

This happened last February during the getaway, and I told my sister that if I was still in the same place a year from then (now, oddly enough), then I would consider living abroad again. As soon as I gave voice to that thought, I found myself asking, “Wait — why not now?” While on a walk along the Napa River, we began brainstorming the location. I’d lived in Madrid in 2012 and loved laid-back, late-night street culture. I’d heard similar descriptions of Buenos Aires, plus the added appeal of a vibrant art scene. It felt right. So even before the end of the weekend, I began mapping out my next steps.

1. Figure out what to do for money

My first stop was Google: “teaching English in Buenos Aires.” I learned about certification programs for Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) and read personal accounts detailing the advantages and annoyances of the job. Most people said they appreciated the flexibility but hated the inconsistency. I envisioned teaching in a primary school with holiday breaks, and even though TEFL in Buenos Aires didn’t seem to resemble this image at all, I registered for a program — shelling out $2,690 for a four-week intensive training course, housing, and an airport pickup. Now eight months later, I’m wincing as I write that way-too-high, can-I-have-my-money-back expense. But the cost also included peace of mind, knowing that I had my first month at least partially planned out.

I decided to leave in July so that I could start work in August, when people in the Southern Hemisphere return to school after winter break. Until then, I worked through a lengthy to-do list of visiting doctors, choosing travel insurance, canceling services, alerting banks, changing addresses, buying travel essentials, and selling the rest.

2. Sell everything

When my lease was up, I held a yard sale and sold almost everything I owned: an Ikea couch, a queen-sized bed, a bistro dining table, shelves, books, clothing, jewelry, and an armchair named Mr. Brown. By the end of the day, I began gleefully giving away all of the stuff that I already knew I didn’t need. If someone looked at a painting or lamp for too long, it was theirs. I felt high off seeing my stuff go to good homes (except Mr. Brown, who was reluctantly left in the care of my local Goodwill). Bonus: I made nearly $1,000 for my travels.

3. Save up

I spent four months living with two dear friends Matt and Megan, their dog, their three cats, and their mannequin named Bianca. Living with friends allowed me to save for the trip and simplify life before leaving. (I saved about $7,000 for travels, which was enough to fund about four months in Buenos Aires, including many meals out and a couple of spendy trips around Argentina.)

During this time, I further whittled down my belongings and took care of pre-travel essentials, like filling prescriptions and bidding farewell to all-access HBO.

4. Say goodbye

Going places is easy; leaving them is hard. Because I’d booked my ticket so far in advance, I felt in limbo for months before my departure. My mind (and money!) was already invested in what was to come, but I tried to take advantage of what I had in the moment. I spent a lot of time with family and friends: camping with my mom and siblings, visiting my hometown with friends, and traveling down the coast of California with one of my very favorite people.

There were a lot of goodbyes, even up to the last day. My dad hosted a barbecue with his side of my family (including my grandmother Alice) and my closest friends around the Bay Area. We all cried. Impossibly, as my car pulled out of the driveway, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” started to play. Was I leaving forever? Nah. But it felt like it.