This year I celebrate a decade living in Chile. Ten years.

It has flown by. I have noticed by my expat, and Chilean friends, who have arrived and left. And I stay. If you were to ask me why, I would respond quite simply, “For love”. Love for Chile, the life I have made with my husband and his family here, our life (business) project. I also really feel that Chile is an exquisite base to live and explore the world. Moving to the end of the American continent by no means restricts international travel. You just become a pro, very quickly, at sleeping on 8-hour flights.

Something funny and unexpected has been happening to me on my frequent trips to the States as of late. My mother land now feels like a foreign country. Chile officially is my reference for daily life. Of course, the language, culture, and way people are in the US is familiar but it feels different. In a good way. I actually am rediscovering my own country after being afar. Life is ironic. I have had to spend nearly a third of life abroad to value what being American means and how much we have and take for granted when in the “US” bubble. Fortunately, I now am seeing the US with fresh eyes and an open mind to experience it how it is. Before I moved here, I remember this sensation of wanting to escape what I didn’t like. I knew there was more outside the borders. But in my desire to go far, I pushed away what was my own–for a while.

Now I have a tremendous sensation of reconnection with my mother country and gratitude. I mean how cool is my life that I get to have each foot in a different country and culture. And both now feel like mine–yet foreign and new all the time. Damn, that is exciting.

I got back not too long ago from a culinary conference in the Northwest in Portland, Oregon. Portland is definitely the most organized and “green” city I have ever visited. The rolling hills are forested with pines, the verdant parks full of budding tulips as spring tried to draw near, and all the lawns and houses meticulously manicured. In the distance, one afternoon, I finally saw the volcano, Mount Hood, which immediately reminded me of the hovering Osorno volcano in Puerto Varas in the south of Chile. Let’s be clear though. I used the conference as a spring board to eat and drink my way through one of the US’s major foodie destinations. And a very hip, open-minded place I may add. I arrived with a laundry list of restaurants and fresh ingredients to try from the quarter-sized oysters to fiddlehead greens, the Thai Mecca Pok Pok, and a lot, LOT, of Pinot Noir.

Oregon is the frontier, the old west that represents the pioneer, and American dream of independence and prosperity. Certainly it is a very different place from the colonial-esque, Amish country where I grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Oregon, everything feels in balance. People live in harmony with nature, contemplating themselves as part of her, not separate. This shows in the “green” nature but also the fact they are very outdoorsy, despite some seriously rainy weather. They bike everywhere. The city is open, clean, and does not feel overpopulated or claustrophobic like Manhattan. The Portlanders are also an independent, relaxed, and somewhat irreverent bunch. Grunge is still very alive and big, BIG tattos are as common as earrings. Here immigrants from Vietnam, China, and a whole community of San Francisco “expats” have arrived seeking the clean air, healthy lifestyle, and more reasonably priced real estate.

Everything in Portland is organic, sustainable and supports small farmers to encourage this kind of responsible food production. I was blown away how many restaurants had the farm-to-table philosophy and even their own gardens to supply the locale. Amazing. I arrived just in time to dive into tender, spring produce: fiddlehead greens (slightly bitter, crunchy, and addictive), rhubarb, ramps, morels, and baby chard. Besides the veggies, the animals seemed to live a happy life, before ending up on our plate.  I was wooed by the seafood from black bass to kunamoto oysters (I can put away a dozen at a shot…) and plump, sweet scallops the size of a baby’s palm. Of course, never have I seen so many vegetarian and vegan restaurants too. A Mecca. I even decided to overcome my skepticism about how any vegan baked good could taste better than cardboard and went to Sweet Pea. They fooled me with a killer gluten-free muffin AND a latte made with hazelnut milk. Perfect for the chilly, rainbow-laden morning.

After being in Portland for 5 days with rain, sun, more clouds and rain, and a constant chill (can I not hack any cold weather anymore??!), I finally get the coffee habit in the northwest. Of course you need something to perk you up. Warm and full of caffeine goodness. The cafés themselves are unique spaces to be–cruise the wifi, read a book, meet with friends, hang out with your dog–or kids. A cozy break to warm up before heading back out into the elements. And quite honestly, the coffee kicked butt. Especially compared to rampant Nescafé in Chile, or even standard American coffee (err, Folgers), that seems to be so watery or burnt (Starbucks!). I drank a lot of espresso too, now that I am convert.

It was an odyssey of flavors. Intense and diverse like the place. Something happened though in the middle of the trip. The scenery and climate reminded me of the south of Chile, like Puerto Varas, and I got nostalgic. The seasonlity and foodstuffs too. It almost felt like an uber developed version of Chile, or what Chile could be (with Latin flair of course). Portland changed how I look at food and its relationship to the environment and community. How people live in nature. Inspiration to bring back with me. But by the end of my stay, I was d-y-i-n-g to board the plane. It wasn’t the fact we’d just bought our dream apartment in Santiago. I was ready to go home to my other home. Chilito.

I am so, so, so lucky be able to have, and live, in my Two Americas.

Text translated and adapted from monthly column for May published Placeres Magazine in Chile. Thanks to Fetopher for the Portland pics in Spring.