Neither of us had ever ventured to true New England, like up to the hills and mountains of the far north: Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. It was-9 degrees before our residency interview in Burlington. Bone chilling cold, really. But the cold was perfectly mitigated with the warm maple lattes served at nearly every coffee shop. We met up with some friends that lived there, a couple we had met in Vietnam. Such a small world isn’t it? We really are all just little pins on a map, interconnected by strings of involvement, a web of familial and friendly ties.
We then journeyed through New Hampshire to Maine, twisting along country lanes through the Berkshires, punctuated by squeals of excitement when we noted signs for the Appalachian Trail. We spent the day dreaming of what it will be like when we through hike the trail, how incredible the same peaks we eyed would feel as we stood atop them. We continued on to Portland, eager to see the frozen coastline.
Portland was more industrial than we had imagined, but the quaint clapboard homes and picturesque lighthouses stirred something within us. The idea of working in rural clinics in Acadia National Park sounded right up our alley, but nevertheless, Maine just wasn’t the right fit. Only Utah could fill that void in our hearts, the longing for the mountains and adventure.