We’ve been living in Singapore for one month and one week.
Since we left Mexico, a lot of people have asked me what it feels like to be on the other side of the world, and I felt it was important to write about it. Not to give advice—far from it. Just to share what’s happened, what we’ve felt, and what we’ve learned during this time. Because it’s been a lot.
Starting over. Again.
Arriving in a new country feels like hitting reset. Literally. Everything works differently. And when I say everything, I mean everything: from how to open a bank account, to getting a SIM card, how public transport works, what people eat, how to order food.
It’s like becoming a child again for a few days, until you understand how life works here. And that’s where the challenge begins: being willing to learn everything again, without resistance, without complaining, without wanting things to work “like they do back home.”
Learning to say yes
One of the most beautiful things that has happened to us since arriving is that we’ve started saying yes to everything. Yes to foods we can’t pronounce. Yes to meetings with people we don’t know. Yes to events we weren’t quite sure why we were invited to.
And it’s been a wild ride, in the best way. Every “yes” has brought a story. People we never would have met. Ideas we wouldn’t have had. Things we didn’t know we liked. And it’s opened us up so much.
The transport, the systems… and the air-conditioning
I come from a culture where having your own car is part of the definition of success. Here, it’s a bit different—owning a car is very expensive, and the system is designed to encourage people to use the MRT. The subway, the buses—everything works. It’s clean, safe, and fast. Many times, I get there faster on the MRT than using Grab (which is like Uber here).
And on the way, I reconnect with myself, listen to a podcast, breathe.
Now, the air-conditioning—that’s another topic. The humidity here is intense, and you need AC all the time. But it’s also a challenge when you want 24°C and your partner wants 20°C. Living with air-conditioning, believe me, is a whole topic. As a couple, we’ve had to negotiate even that. 😄
A completely different relationship with money
Something that blew my mind is how people here relate to money. Everything is designed to save: cashback, coupons, points, apps that connect to other apps. And it’s not about being cheap—it’s about efficiency. About logic.
I had never used so many referral codes or received so many reward points for purchases, reviews, etc. It’s a whole new way of thinking about money. At first, it’s strange, but then… you start to like it. It becomes a kind of game—collecting points and rewards.
Respect is seen, felt, lived
Here, many cultures live together: Chinese, Malay, Indian heritage—and each one has its space, its respect. You feel it in the small things: how dishes are labeled to indicate if they’re Halal or not. How rules like “no durians on the bus” (because of the smell) are followed. And no one is watching over you. It’s the people who enforce the rules.
The community protects the order. I find that beautiful.
New friends, new stages
One of the nicest things has been meeting people who are going through the same thing we are. Connecting through vulnerability, through the newness. Sitting with someone and talking about what you don’t understand, what you miss, what you didn’t expect to feel.
But it’s also been lovely to realize that our lifelong friends are still there. And even though they’re far away, they’re part of this too.
What I didn’t expect was how much I would learn from the people I’ve met here. People from Singapore, from other parts of Asia, who’ve welcomed me with curiosity, openness, and respect. And who, without even trying, have taught me to see the world from a different perspective.
I’ve had conversations with people who think differently, who come from religions, customs, and priorities completely different from mine. And instead of feeling distant, I’ve felt more connected. Because there’s something deeply human in listening to how someone else sees life—what they value, what they dream of, what they fear.
I’ve been surprised by how empathetic they are, how family-oriented, how loyal to their roots. There’s something powerful in how they preserve their traditions while staying open to the world. And it’s made me think about the parts of my own culture I sometimes forget.
Appreciating what we once had
After almost two months without a home, living in a hotel, you start to appreciate things you didn’t see before: having your own bed, your own shower, a place to leave your clothes. Today, having a space to live in truly feels like home.
And we’ve also learned to appreciate the people who helped us at home. Because now we’re cooking, cleaning, doing everything. And yes, it’s tiring sometimes—but it’s also part of life. It’s made us more aware, more grateful.
Letting go. Releasing. Rebuilding.
In less than a month, we dismantled our life in Mexico. We gave things away, sold others, repainted the apartment, handed over the keys. And here, in less than a month, we found a new place, bought some furniture, and already built a new routine.
That’s taught me to let go without fear. Not to hold on so tightly. And to trust that you can rebuild your life anywhere.
I’m neither from here nor there
And that’s okay. I’ve realized I don’t need to cling to a fixed identity. Today, I belong to where I am. I belong to the present. And that makes me feel free, even if it sometimes hurts.
Did I make the right decision?
There are days when you question it. When you wonder if it was the right call, if it was worth leaving everything behind. But then I remember that, since I was a kid, I dreamed of seeing the world. That this was one of my dreams. And today, I’m living it.
So yes—even if there are hard moments, I’m where I want to be.
In a relationship, everything gets amplified
Doing this as a couple can either bring you closer or pull you apart. For us, it brought us closer. We talk more. We share our days like we’re coming home from school. We’ve learned to trust each other more. To grow together, but also to hold each other up when one of us struggles.
And most importantly: we’ve learned to fail together too. To make decisions as a team. And if they don’t work out, we keep walking together anyway.
Today I feel younger. Not in age—but in what I allow myself to learn. In what I’m leaving behind. In what I’m choosing to embrace.
And most of all, I feel deeply grateful. For every person who’s been part of this journey, at any stage of my life. Thank you.
Someone here told me recently:
“One single conversation can change your life.”
And that stuck with me. Maybe this little piece I wrote can be that for someone. If you’re reading this and you’re going through a big change—or wondering whether to take the leap—I can only tell you: if it feels right, go for it. It’s not easy. But it’s worth it.
Thank you, Natalia Correa Renteria
I can’t end this without thanking my wife.
None of this would have been possible without her. Not just because it was her professional opportunity that brought us here—but because, throughout this whole transition, her way of seeing things, her strength, her patience, and her ability to embrace uncertainty have helped me grow too.
We’ve been there for each other in the good moments, but also on the days filled with doubt, frustration, or when all you need is someone who listens.
And the most valuable part: we’ve learned to trust each other’s decisions, to support each other without conditions, and to accept that if something doesn’t go as planned, we made that choice together. And we keep going, together.
I feel like this move has brought us closer than ever. Because we’re not just building a new life—we’re also rebuilding ourselves. And doing that with her by my side changes everything.
Thank you, my love. For being here. For trusting. For walking this path with me.
Jaime
Jaime Lopez 
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