After my 30-year marriage ended, I moved to California. When it got too pricey, I built my dream life in New Orleans.

• After my divorce, I moved to California, where I had a support network of friends and family.
• I loved it, but high prices and bad traffic pushed me out. Soon, I set my sights on New Orleans.
• I've built a nice life here — my living costs are lower and I met my now-husband.

In 2014, my divorce required that I downsize from the Connecticut house I loved. So, I returned to my native California, where I had a support network of family and friends.

I knew I'd be relocating from one expensive region to another and that it might be challenging to find something affordable.

Nonetheless, I soon settled into a spacious (but pricey) apartment near the Pacific Ocean in Santa Monica, where I happily enjoyed the daily sunshine, gorgeous beaches, and company of old friends.

There was much to love about Los Angeles County, but the traffic was terrible, and the area's high cost of living strained my budget.

I knew I should leave California, and soon heard Louisiana calling my name.

After a bit of contemplation, I moved to New Orleans

My daughter lived in New Orleans, and although I had visited many times, I'd never considered moving there.

Now, I began contemplating the benefits of living in the Louisiana city. First of all, I'd be near my daughter, who'd just had a baby.

New Orleanians I'd encountered on my visits were incredibly friendly, and the sense of community in the city always impressed me. Plus, it's famous for its unique culture, delicious food, and legendary music.

New Orleans is smaller and tends to have far less traffic than my county — something that appealed to me after spending many hours bumper-to-bumper on the Los Angeles freeways.

I made up my mind about moving once I found the perfect house on a tree-lined street in the city's Upper Garden District, where I could walk to nearby restaurants and shops or hop on the streetcar to the French Quarter.

Best of all, the monthly rent for my two-bedroom house with 11-foot ceilings and a backyard is less than it was for a tiny studio apartment in Santa Monica.

My move came with a learning curve

Moving to a new city can be challenging, and my jump to New Orleans was no exception.

I have a poor sense of direction and initially had trouble getting my bearings. It doesn't help that people here seem to rarely use cardinal directions — north, south, east, and west.

Instead, everything is lakeside (near Lake Pontchartrain), riverside (by the Mississippi River), upriver (uptown), or downriver (downtown). Years later, I still rely on my GPS to get around.

Once I moved, I also needed to learn proper local pronunciations and lingo, which largely stems from the city's French Colonial heritage.

Although I spoke French, I didn't speak Louisiana French and was soon embarrassed to find out I was mispronouncing many of the city's street names. For example, Chartres Street is actually pronounced "CHAR-turz."

I knew not to refer to the city as "N'awlins" (locals hate that), but I didn't realize it was a faux pas to call New Orleans's iconic sugary Creole candy a "pray-leen" instead of a "prah-leen." Live and learn.

I've also gotten familiar with humidity and hurricanes

When I moved to the city in the middle of summer, I immediately had second thoughts. Los Angeles was quite dry and warm, but New Orleans was humid and hot.

The city often experiences flash floods, and my car was totaled in one. In my third year here, Hurricane Ida arrived with a vengeance on the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. I evacuated north, spending several days on what many here call a "hurrication."

Although I don't welcome hurricanes, I'm used to staying prepared and checking weather reports since my native California dealt with earthquakes and wildfires.

With hurricanes, at least there are often advance warnings.

Above all, I've built a community here and learned to embrace the city's quirks

For me, there's just no place like New Orleans, and I've enjoyed building a life here for the past seven years.

When I first moved, I didn't know anyone in town besides my daughter, so I made an effort to engage in the community. I joined a French conversation group, where I developed meaningful friendships.

Then, I met the man who would later become my husband. He introduced me to the city's music scene, got me to try the region's spicy foods, and taught me more about the area.

Admittedly, I'm still not used to the oppressive heat and humidity New Orleans summers bring — but I've learn to deal with it.