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What I’ve Learned from Living Overseas for Twenty Years
The lesson I didn’t know I needed — and am still learning
When I left Australia in May 2002, I never expected to still be abroad two decades later. Yes, it was a one-way ticket, using all of the savings I had accrued at that point. Yes, I threw a hefty farewell party. Still, I always assumed that somehow, life would lead me back to my homeland at some important juncture — when I had learned the lessons I was meant to, and grown into the person I wanted to be.
That growing process appears to be ongoing.
My goal in leaving Australia was nothing momentous — it was not to earn a certain amount of money or achieve a particular career or personal milestone. It more closely resembled leaving a job you realize isn’t a fit: “I don’t know where I do want to be, but I know where I do not.” Beautiful, dusty, remote Australia felt parochial, and I wanted thrills. I wanted to be surrounded by people who were so different to me that the contrast would help me define myself.
By 2004, I was on the brink of returning to Australia. My working holiday visas had expired in both the Netherlands and the UK. I had finished work at a Canary Wharf bank and was dating a handsome Kiwi bartender. Our relationship kept me occupied for the last weeks of life in…
