I guess you could say, I was born to travel. I mean, it is sort of in my DNA. My Father grew up as an original Third Culture Kid. Born into an Air Force family, he moved from England, France, Morocco and Syracuse. When he joined Foreign Affairs, he and my Mother instantaneously began to move and travel. At one
I am not exactly sure when I became aware of my skin colour, my identity, my accent, my Father’s unique job or even my birth country and how obviously out of place it all was to my surroundings. One move seemed to blend into another. The only thing I seemed to know, was how to navigate new schools, and airports.
This is a rather delicate subject matter as I have a lot of opinions surrounding this. Having been a Diplomatic Kid, there were and still are very few moments I feel I fit in, chidhood is hard enough when you stay put, but when you mix in moving constantly, it brings on a whole other level of crazy. Actually, I
I remember her vividly, she was an incredible athlete, our star soccer player, but with the worst negative attitude you can imagine. Of course, we didn’t care, we all tried to talk her through it every day. She had her moments where she let down her guard when she relaxed and you could see she was enjoying herself, then, she
I will never forget his smile, or his way of tapping you on the shoulder and calling you “buddy”. When we arrived in the Philippines, this lovely 60 + year old, became our personal driver. Mong Nardo, a personality that was bigger and happier than sunshine, his happiness and pride hit you square on, and if it didn’t rub off
Growing up the way I did, I never really felt attached to one particular place, I never felt grounded or secure. I grew up with the feeling that the rug was always about to be pulled from under me with every posting announcement. I have never gone back to the countries I have lived in abroad, I always felt for
