We Left America for a Better Life – And We're Saving Tons of Money

From Good Housekeeping

San Francisco was killing me.

I would say it was the naked meth head touching himself in front of my office window that did me in, but we still stayed for another six months after that.

I was making more money than I will most likely ever make again, but still, I was barely scraping by. My life was great –– I had a new husband, a gorgeous puppy, and a cozy cottage, but I didn't have the energy or the funds to enjoy it. Never mind that San Francisco was getting more and more overwhelming each day.

After two years in the city and six months in the suburbs (a failed attempt to escape increasing rent), I was in debt, lonely, and exhausted. After a ten-hour day commuting to and from work at a tech startup, I spent any remaining time binge-watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

It's no secret that San Francisco is one of the most expensive cities in America. Our rent - for a 700 square foot 1-bedroom above-garage cottage (45 minutes outside the city) - was $3,000 per month.

It was a better deal than our 500 square foot basement studio with no laundry, parking or doors.

But moving out ended up being more expensive. The dog walker was $30 per day. Commuting across the bridge with gas, tolls and parking was $45. Forty five. Dollars. Per day. Just to get to work.

It took two and a half years before I folded.

Aside from the money, I felt isolated from the community I had grown to love. Exhausted after long days surrounded by tech bros, I turned down invitations to after-work yoga or weekend drinks. For one, I didn't have the money. Also, trying to go to a brunch at any time in San Francisco? Nope.

Then there was my actual work environment. I worked for one of those "unicorn" tech companies. The ones with lots of funding and kombucha on tap. While I didn't hate my job, getting there was a different story. No, it wasn't the traffic. It was the office location. Many SF tech companies base themselves in SOMA, a neighborhood famous for methadone clinics. I couldn't walk down the street - at any time of day - without dodging comments about my "delicious ass." Then there were the times I was followed or grabbed just walking from the parking lot to work.

And the naked meth head incident of 2015? Not the only time I saw a penis during my working week.

So, my husband and I made accommodations. We balanced our weeks with long, meandering, hikes on gorgeous trails. We shopped at farmer's markets and cooked romantic dinners. We hosted weekend parties, decorating the trees with streamers and balloons.

It's not that our quality of life was all bad. We were healthy, employed, and surrounded by our favorite people. The problem was, we rarely had the money or energy to enjoy it.

We worked our butts off in San Francisco, simply to afford the honor of living there.

So six months ago, we decided to go for broke. We gave up everything and moved to Germany.

The moving-to-Europe idea had been percolating for a while by then. I'd lived abroad for most of my adult life, and I wanted my new husband to experience the adventure of being an expat.

Plus, anywhere was better than San Francisco at that point.

We made a deal. If one of us could find a job abroad, that would be the sign we should do it. It happened quicker than we thought, though. My husband's San Francisco employer had offices in Düsseldorf, Germany.

Neither of us spoke German. We'd never even travelled to the country. But we jumped on the opportunity, eager to experience a new life.

Germany has definitely been an experience. Düsseldorf is a small city in the West of Germany, just over the border from The Netherlands.

We live in a beautiful light-filled apartment in one of the most desirable neighborhoods. We're a five-minute walk from the main park, 10 minutes from the river and 20 from the Alstadt, an old town complete with a castle and cobblestone streets on the banks of the Rhine.

Our rent, for an apartment twice the size of our old cottage, is a third of the cost.

A nice dinner out with wine and dessert? $20 a pop.

We don't need a car, and train tickets throughout the continent of Europe cost the same as commuting just 20 miles in California. In six months we've been everywhere from Sweden to Italy.

We invest our money in experiences instead of a zip code.

Even with half our income (Europeans just don't pay the same way Californians do), we're still able to squirrel away hundreds of dollars each month into savings. By the time we leave, we'll have enough to move back to the States and buy a house (far, far away from San Francisco). It's funny that we ended up moving over 5,000 miles away just to afford living back home.

So while sometimes we don't understand the language and we're still experiencing major culture shock, we've gained a new world understanding, have more time together as a couple, more money in the bank, and significantly fewer penises interrupting my work day.