Recently, I returned to the United States to spend time with my sister, attend to some pressing financial business, and speak at an event at the University of Washington Libraries in Seattle to celebrate the life of a close friend who had died.

The trip to Portland, Oregon and Seattle lasted about two weeks but it felt longer filled with lunches with friends, and some bizarre meetings with staff from large financial institutions. One stands out in particular.

I met with a representative from a well-known financial institution to set-up accounts to accommodate the transfer of money from a retirement account to Australia.

The next day, I awoke to read an email from the same representative saying that he was “terribly sorry” but he had discovered that Australia was on “the prohibited list” for these type of business arrangements. Suddenly, I had to start again from scratch and had a matter of days to solve it.

The representative had known about this meeting for a month, and we even had discussed some issues with a special financial planner over the phone at the meeting! This meant that I had to quickly find another company that worked with USA residents living overseas. This stressful experience was just another reminder of how myopic the United States is about anything beyond their borders.

This and a few other business meetings felt like I was running a marathon and trying to decipher hieroglyphics at the same time. I had been careful not to schedule more than one event a day to ensure that I could keep up the pace. I understood my limits and did not want to feel overwhelmed by the emotional impact of the visit.

Could I have made the trip longer? Yes. But I wanted to avoid too much time in a place where I had once lived and worked. With so many moves, I have learned that returning to a place where you were once lived can be painful and pleasurable. It can feel like a joyous reunion but at the same time, it is also a reminder of the friendships and a life left behind.