Leaving Florida, Finding Minnesota
For most of my life in the U.S., Florida was my only home. Sunshine, palm trees, the rhythm of Miami, it was everything I knew. But I was searching for something deeper: a place that could challenge me and shape me in my career as nurse, as a human as a wonderer.
I started hearing back from the hospitals I applied for my first-year residency. Above all, I chose Rochester, Minnesota. From the first moment it felt like this was the path that would change not just my career, but my entire perspective on life on myself.
Brown December, White January
I arrived in a dry brown December. Winter introduced itself slowly. At first, I thought maybe I’d been spared. But soon enough, the snow came. Beautiful at first the kind of snowfall that makes houses look like postcards. I’d wander neighborhoods admiring the architecture, taking photos of the homes dressed in white.
But as the weeks stretched on, I realized Minnesota winter wasn’t something to take lightly. For someone like me, who needs nature, fresh air, and movement every day, the endless cold was suffocating. Going for hikes or daily walks, things I couldn’t live without suddenly felt impossible. It wasn’t just a season; it was a test of resilience.
Fun Fact: Rochester averages about 48 inches of snow per year more than double what New York City gets
Finding Home Downtown
My housing journey taught me as much as my job did. My first apartment wasn’t easy, neighbor problems made those first months heavy. But then came my second realtor, and with him, everything shifted. He didn’t just find me a new home he gave me a sense of belonging. To this day, I keep in touch with him.
Both of my realtors were just doing their job; they were genuinely kind people who cared. They showed me, in their own ways, what “Minnesota Nice” truly meant at the time.
And “Minnesota Nice” is real. It’s not just a smile, it’s the little ways people go out of their way to help, even if they’ll never see you again. Like the stranger who held the door when my hands were full, or the neighbor who cleared a patch of sidewalk without saying a word. Sometimes, that kindness felt quiet and reserved, but it was there steady and reliable.
My new downtown apartment changed everything. My window overlooked Rochester’s iconic tower, a daily reminder of why I was here. The building even had a restaurant downstairs, which saved me on nights I was too tired to cook. I discovered Thai Pop and fell in love with its flavors.
Fun Fact: Rochester’s iconic Plummer Building, with its tower lit at night, has been a symbol of the city since 1927.
The Hospital That Changed Me
Though I won’t name it directly, everyone knows the hospital at the heart of Rochester, the best in the world. Nothing else compares to how safe, efficient, and compassionate it is for patients and for providers. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was working at a place unlike anywhere else on earth.
My unit, the cardiac surgical floor, was both chaotic and competitive. Colleagues were professional, but forming bonds didn’t always come easily. Friendships were harder to find, and at times I felt the weight of that. Still, I met leaders and night-shift teammates who inspired me. Floating to other floors surprised me, those teams welcomed me so warmly that sometimes I felt more at home there than with my own.
What struck me most, though, was the patients. I expected to serve Minnesotans, maybe folks from the Midwest. Instead, I cared for people from every corner of the globe. Each day, my work brought the world to my bedside.
Fun Fact: About 1.3 million people from more than 130 countries come to Rochester every year for medical care.
Late-Night Gatherings at Steam
What Rochester lacked in a “coffee culture,” it made up for with something else gathering spaces. Steam Café became my favorite. Unlike most cafés that close early, Steam stayed open until 10 p.m., offering live music nights and a place where people connected.
It wasn’t a spot filled with kids or loud families, but rather young adults, professionals, and artists who made it feel alive. For me, it became a rare and important space to sit, listen, and simply be.
Fun Fact: Steam Café is one of the only late-night cafés in Rochester, making it a favorite for students, hospital workers, and musicians.
Escaping Winter: Adventures Beyond
On my days off, I hit the road. Chicago was a favorite escape, buzzing with life that felt familiar to me as a city person. Wisconsin Dells, though, was the most magical surprise waterparks, nature, and a whimsical energy that made me feel like a kid again.
But my Rochester chapter wasn’t just about road trips. It was about firsts moments etched so deeply that I know I’ll carry them forever. I saw the Northern Lights for the first time in my life, painting Minnesota sky in colors I didn’t know were real. I watched Stephen Sanchez live, a concert that stirred something in me and reminded me of the beauty of being fully present.
Spring, too, was a revelation. After years of skipping straight from heat to heat in Florida, seeing snow finally melt into blossoms felt like witnessing the world reborn.
And then there was my first solo birthday trip. I went to Michigan, choosing to mark that day not with a party but with a ritual traveling on my own, reflecting on life, and giving myself permission to celebrate quietly. That trip became the start of a tradition, a promise to honor myself each year in some meaningful way.
Fun Fact: Minnesota is one of the best places in the U.S. to catch the Northern Lights, especially during years of high solar activity
Lessons, Loneliness, and Letting Go
Everything in Rochester was beautiful in its own way, the architecture, the safety, the kindness of strangers, the hospital that shaped me. But winter wore me down. The isolation, the difficulty of building lasting friendships, and the feeling that I didn’t quite belong started to sink in. Sometimes, depression crept in quietly, reminding me of the limits of what even the best city and job could give.
Still, I got what I came for. Rochester gave me training, perspective, and resilience. It gave me compassion from patients and unexpected kindness from colleagues. It gave me a window into what it means to be both rooted and restless.
And in the end, it gave me clarity: it was time to move on. Travel nursing was calling, and Seattle was waiting.
Stay tuned because that’s where my next adventure begins.
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