Why traditions were made to be broken.

**Note: LATE post.  REALLY LATE.  Like, DAMN.

September 22, 2011 – I was in Paris with my mother.  We visited Musee D’Orsay during the day and took the train and mini-trolley that night to Sacre Couer in Montmarte for an amazing view overlooking the city.  It was a profound moment in my life.  It was on that day that I decided I would spend every birthday out of the country, in a commitment to traveling, new life experiences, and exploration.  I had started something marvelous.  I fell in love with Paris, and vowed I would someday return to the city which started it all, but not before stepping foot in other new and magical places.

September 22, 2012 – I was with my family in my parents’ house, eating all my favorite Filipino foods lovingly prepared by my parents.  Yes, I had so soon broken the “every birthday outside the country” tradition I established the year prior, but I cut myself some slack because I was, after all, commemorating the completion of my first month in my new job as a triage nurse/clinical coordinator for a major healthcare organization in the Bronx.  First month at a new job = no time off for vacation, but it was ok because there I was on my 26^th birthday experiencing yet another momentous change in my life.  Growth!

September 22, 2013 – I just arrived in London with my mother.  It was a thrilling, fast-paced day –hustled to find a cab to take us to a church just outside town so we could attend Sunday service, checked into our teeny weeny hotel, met up with one of my mom’s former classmates, rode the tube, saw Big Ben and the London Eye, walked to London Tower Bridge, sampled the city’s finest (in my opinion) candied peanuts from a random street vendor, and ate at the famous chicken spot Nando’s – but a piece of me felt a pang of sadness that afternoon, and here’s why:  After checking into our hotel, my mother took out a little plastic bag from her luggage and in it was a bright blue leather purse and a hand-written card from my father (it’s important to note that my father is a man of very few spoken words, and even fewer written ones).  What a bittersweet moment; on one hand, my tradition of birthday travel was reinstated, but on the other hand, I was missing my loved ones back home – my father, my brothers, and my love who touched my heart so deeply when he gifted me with roses, a lovely card with pop-up balloons, a magnet with a beautiful message about wishes, and a mug decorated with the UK flag just before I left for my trip.  On the plane ride back to New York, I knew the birthday travel tradition would eventually undergo some revision in the future.  I knew I couldn’t very well spend every birthday away from the people I love.

And so here I am, August 6^th, and it’s about to be that time again.  Yesterday I accepted a great job opportunity that’s slated to start in early September, and the rule from 2012 still applies: first month at a new job = no time off for vacation.  I guess it’s safe to announce that the birthday travel tradition, while short-lived, was great while it lasted.