Last March 2026, we left the place we had called home since June the year before—Oriental Mindoro. What a journey it had been.
The kids speak only Tagalog to me now. I just want to let that sink in.
We arrived here in January 2025 for a holiday. We were supposed to leave in March, but we didn’t. I wanted the kids to learn Tagalog so badly, so we stayed.
And now we’re packing our things.
It was worth every moment. It was a worthy cause. I feel more connected to my kids in a way I didn’t expect—hearing them speak straight to my heart. Even Martin has started learning Tagalog, partly because he wants to, and partly because he’s starting to feel left out as the kids improve.
Now it’s time to go back to Denmark.
A Home That Stayed the Same
This childhood home somehow remained exactly how I remember it. It’s the same place I used to visit once a year, usually during Fiesta.
But living here is very different from visiting.
Because when you stay longer, you start to notice everything. The water smells rusty. The electricity is unstable. Things that should be basic are not always guaranteed.
At first, that was frustrating. I kept comparing it to what I was used to.
But over time, I started asking myself if that frustration was really about the situation—or about my expectations.
When Your Priorities Shift
Living here changed what felt important.
When basic things are not stable, your attention naturally shifts. You don’t have the energy to think about “next-level” problems. You just want electricity to come back. You just want usable water.
Everything else becomes secondary.
I remember how unhappy I was with Marius’ school in the beginning. I kept focusing on what it lacked—what it should be, what wasn’t good enough.
But nothing about the school really changed.
What changed was how I looked at it.
I stopped comparing it to an ideal version in my head and started seeing it for what it actually is. Once I did that, it became easier to accept—and even appreciate.
The Part I Had to Face
That shift made me realize something uncomfortable.
The frustration I was feeling wasn’t really about the school, the electricity, or the water.
It was coming from me.
The constant comparing. The quiet resistance. The feeling that things should be better, more efficient, more aligned with what I’m used to.
All of that created tension—and that tension stayed with me.
Life was just happening. People were just being who they are. But I was the one holding on to how things should be.
And that’s where the word comes in: surrender.
Not giving up, but letting go of the need to control everything around me.
A Different Kind of Reality
In Denmark, problems look very different.
You worry about job satisfaction, inefficiencies at work, slow systems, missed opportunities.
Here in the province, you worry about whether there will be electricity tonight.
That difference alone changes your perspective.
When Basics Are Not Guaranteed
In Mindoro, water doesn’t come from a tap you can rely on.
We collect it from a source a few kilometers away and transport it in containers using a pickup truck. This has to be done multiple times a month depending on how much we consume.
There’s no hot water, so everything has to be boiled manually.
Even then, the water isn’t completely clean. When it sits in a bucket, you can see small traces of algae settling at the bottom. But over time, you stop questioning it. That’s simply what’s available.
Electricity is just as unpredictable. You don’t know when it will go out, so you keep your lamps charged and plan around it as much as you can.
When your day depends on whether there’s power or water, your priorities become very clear. You don’t have the space to worry about things that once felt important.
Why “First World Problems” Exist
That contrast is real.
In places where systems work, your mind moves on to something else. Once the basics are covered, new frustrations take their place.
Unless you learn how to be at peace, there will always be something missing.
You can have a stable job, a good home, healthy kids, and still feel dissatisfied because something didn’t go your way.
That’s not because life is lacking.
It’s because the mind keeps searching.
What I’m Taking With Me
Now, as we prepare to leave, I don’t want to forget this chapter of our lives.
A life where electricity wasn’t guaranteed. Where clean water was something to appreciate, not expect.
Because that changed how I see things.
When we go back to Denmark, life will be easier. More convenient. More predictable.
But I don’t want to lose this perspective.
I want to remember that when the basics are covered, everything else is already extra.
Not something to complain about.
Just something to be grateful for.
