A month in Singapore: starting from zero again

We've been living in Singapore for a month and a week. Since we left Mexico, a lot of people have asked me how it feels to be on the other side of the world, and it felt important to write it down. Not to give advice — far from it. Just to share what's happened, what we've felt, and what we've learned. Because it's a lot.

Starting over. Again.

Arriving in another country is like getting formatted. Literally. Everything works differently. And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING: from how you open a bank account, to how you get a SIM card, how you pay for transport, what you eat, how you order.

It's like becoming a kid again for a few days, until you understand how life works here. That's where the challenge starts: being willing to learn it all over again, without resisting, without complaining, without wanting things to work "like back home."

Learning to say yes

One of the most beautiful things that's happened since we got here is that we started saying yes to everything. Yes to foods we can't pronounce. Yes to meetings with people we don't know. Yes to events where we're not even sure why we showed up.

And it's been wild, in the best way. Every "yes" has brought a story. People we'd never have met. Ideas we'd never have had. Things we didn't know we liked. It's opened up a lot.

Transport, schemes… and the AC

I come from a culture where having your own car is part of success. Here it's a bit different: cars are too expensive because they want people to use the MRT. The metro, the buses, everything works. Everything is clean, safe, fast. Often I get places faster on the MRT than on Grab (which is the Uber here).

And on the way I reconnect with myself, listen to a podcast, breathe.

Now the AC is another story. Because the humidity is intense and you need it all the time. But it's also a problem when you want 24°C and your partner wants 20°C. Living with AC is, trust me, a 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 built to save: cashback, coupons, points, apps that connect to other apps. And not out of stinginess, but out of efficiency. Out of logic.

I'd never used so many referral codes or earned so many cashback points on purchases and reviews. It's a different way of seeing money. At first it's awkward, then… you start to like it. It's like a points-and-rewards game.

Respect: you see it, you feel it, you live it

Many cultures live together here: Chinese heritage, Malay, Indian — and each has its space and its respect. You feel it in the small things: how dishes are labeled to respect Halal or not. How rules are followed, like not bringing durian on the bus because of the smell. And no one is policing it. People enforce the rules themselves.

The community keeps order. I find that beautiful.

New friends, new chapters

One of the loveliest parts has been meeting people going through the same thing as us. Connecting from vulnerability, from newness. Sitting down 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 beautiful to realize that our long-time friends are still there. And that even from far away, they're part of this too.

Something I didn't expect was how much I'd 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. Without trying to, they've taught me to see the world from another angle.

I've had conversations with people who think differently — who come from religions, customs, and priorities totally different from mine. And instead of feeling distant, I've felt more connected. Because there's something deeply human in hearing how another person sees life, what they value, what they dream, what they fear.

Their empathy has surprised me. How family-oriented and loyal to their roots they are. There's something powerful in how they preserve their traditions and at the same time stay open to the world. It's also made me think about things one sometimes forgets about one's own culture.

Valuing what we had

After almost two months without a home, living in a hotel, you start to value things you didn't see before: your own bed, your own shower, a place to put your clothes. Today, having a space to live in tastes like a real home.

And valuing the people who used to help us at home, too. Because today we're cooking, washing, doing everything. It's tiring sometimes, but it's also part of life. It's made us more conscious, more grateful.

Detaching. Letting go. Building again

In less than a month we dismantled our life in Mexico. We gave things away, sold, painted the apartment, handed over keys. In the same time here, we found a place in less than a month, bought some furniture, and have a new routine.

It's taught me to let go without fear. Not to attach so much. And to trust that you can rebuild your life anywhere.

I'm not from here, not from there

And that's okay. I've understood that I don't need to cling to a fixed identity. Today I'm from where I am. I'm from the present. And that makes me feel free, even if it sometimes hurts.

Did I make the right call?

There are days you doubt. Where you ask yourself if it was a good idea, if it was worth leaving everything. But then I remember that since I was a kid I wanted to know the world. That this was one of my dreams. And that today, I'm living that dream.

So yes. Even with hard moments, I'm where I want to be.

With your partner, everything amplifies

Doing this as a couple can either unite or separate. For us it's united us. We talk more. We tell each other about our day like we just got 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 falters.

And most important: we've learned to fail together too. To make decisions as a team. And if they don't work out, to keep walking together anyway.

—

Today I feel younger. Not by age, but by what I let myself learn. By what I'm leaving behind. By the new things I'm embracing.

And above all: I feel deeply grateful. For every person who's been part of this journey, from any stage of my life. Thank you.

Someone here told me recently:

A single conversation can change your life.

It stuck with me. Maybe what I'm writing here is that for someone. If you're reading this and you're in a moment of change, or thinking about whether to take the leap or not… I can only tell you: if it makes sense to you, do it. It's not easy. But it's worth it.

Thanks to Natalia

I can't finish writing all 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 to this side of the world, but because in the middle of all this change, her way of seeing things, her strength, her patience, and her way of embracing uncertainty have made me grow too.

We've been there for each other in the good moments, but also on the days when one of us doubts, gets frustrated, or just needs to be heard.

And the most valuable part: we've learned to trust each other's decisions, to support each other unconditionally, and to accept that if a decision doesn't go as expected, we still made it together. And we keep going.

I feel this country move has connected us more than ever. Because we're not just building a new life, we're rebuilding ourselves too. And doing that with her by my side changes everything.

Thank you, love. For being there. For trusting. For walking with me.

Jaime