In November of 2013, I finally did what I had been wanting to do for a long time, but couldn't find the guts to do: I quit my job, sold my house, sold my car, gave away most of my material possessions, and went to live in Perú, the country I had left 40 years ago. I spent the better part of 2014 travelling up and down Perú, becoming familiar with my homeland for the first time.

I and my wife Janet had been contemplating this move for a long time; but several reasons finally pushed us to take action. My mother had suffered a stroke and I wanted to spend some time with her. Besides, we had been suffering from a sort of malaise; a kind of existential discomfort. We were miserable at our jobs, punching the clock every day without any sense of fulfillment. Janet had been reassigned to a high-stress position that was literally killing her. We were not enjoying life and we asked ourselves: "is this all there is to life?" We decided that there had to be more.

I had spent most of my life in the US and living there had profoundly shaped who I am. I think in English; I dream in English; my sense of humor is distinctly American. And yet, deep inside I still think of myself as Peruvian. I prefer the company of Peruvians, I love Peruvian food, and there are many memories of Perú burned in my memory.

I didn't know what would in store for me in Perú. My wife Janet had only been there once for a couple of weeks and both the country and the culture were unfamiliar to her. I was born in Perú but I had lived most of my life in the US. Would we find what we are looking for in Perú? Would we adjust to a different culture, different food, and different system?

Eventually we came to the conclusion that the worst thing we could do was to stay in Miami. We had to find a different way of life. We had to find meaning in our lives. Florida at that point was a wasteland for both of us.