VANDITA TRIVEDI evokes a classic song to help her through the challenges of relocation – becoming an expat in Hong Kong.
Red Red Wine: my friend through this arduous journey – our move from the US to Hong Kong with twin teenage girls.
Rewind. Life was humming along a routine tune, the most exciting events being a basketball game, a dance recital or family visiting. Somewhat predictable, but still enough for me to complain how I had to do everything at the end of the day.
And then, one summer Ohio morning, my husband said in the most nonchalant way, “I got the job!” I replied in tween: “Wait, what?” “We have to move,” he said.
If one could feel proud, ecstatic, anxious and be process-mapping all in one moment, that was me!
We were moving (again) to Hong Kong, a place we had lived once when the girls were babies. Would the girls be okay moving in the final year of middle school? Reality was sinking in. What about the house?
Time for lots of 3M sticky notes… and some Red Red Wine!
First step was to tell the girls. That would be brutal, I thought! Nope, they shed a few tears but came around relatively quickly. I was both amazed and inspired by them. Wow! When did they grow up?
First round of Zoom calls started at ungodly hours with education consultants, prospective schools, online tests, interviews… The path ahead occasionally felt foggy. We were in August, so joining the same year felt iffy!
After e-documenting my girls into the best “Made in America” products, we got the news – they were in! The plan was devised and they were to continue school and all extracurriculars as normal until the day we move. No compromise in tiger-mumming!
Second round of Zoom calls. Visas, packers, movers, dog movers, tax, bank… Meanwhile, I had to wrap up my work, urgently complete all overdue projects around the house, list the place for rent, sell cars and cut our house contents in half. Deadline was seven weeks.
Okay, I had done this before. “Don’t panic!” I told myself. Why was I hanging on to kids’ art from kindergarten? Why the pile of “gifts to pass along”? National Geographics from 1999? Seriously? Stuff just kept coming out of the basement. I felt like the cover of a book I had never read, Atlas Shrugged. I sang like Nemo: Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
In the end, I poured myself Red Red Wine and then divided everything in the house into four chunks: air shipment, sea shipment, storage and purge/donate/sell.
My husband and I are strategically aligned but tactically poles apart. I envied his “chill” mode at our farewell parties, where he would be like, “Yup, the packers and movers will take care of everything.” I wanted to throw up.
Days were going fast. Surprises were coming out of the wazoo – how much is the dog transport costing?
The house needs a paint, outside and inside? Which colour is the most neutral? There is no “replacing a few bathroom tiles”, the whole thing needs a gut job?
Amidst this high-stakes jigsaw-puzzle crunch, I found myself in the mode where everything must be done and it must be done right. We all had to have dentist, eye, doctor visits sorted like we were moving to Antarctica! Unused medicines had to be disposed of ethically, and no one else knew the right way of emptying my pantry!
But did my husband dare point out a better approach? Nope, he left me alone with my Red Red Wine.
I say, as painful as a move is, it’s literally the best reset. We get to live a new life in this life. By the way, everything – miraculously – got checked off the 3M stickies, and as we boarded the flight, I felt weightless… and I ordered my Red Red Wine!
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This article about xx first appeared in the Summer 2026 issue of Expat Living magazine. You can buy the latest mag or an annual subscription, or read the digital version for free now.
