"Holy Cungadaro!" My Life as a Third Culture Kid

Being a Third Culture Kid I have experienced first hand the struggles and challenges of… well, being a third culture kid. It wasn’t always like this however. For the first ten years of my life I lived in Los Angeles and never had to leave my comfort zone. I’m here to share a story with you about what happened when I did.

It all started on a bright and sunny day in LA. Not a cloud in the sky, not a care in the wind, just… perfect. Except it wasn’t because today was the day I was leaving all my friends, and in that moment, it truly felt like, this was goodbye.

 On the way to the airport my heart was really pounding. Passing all the stores and landmarks I grew up with my whole life, watching them pass by the car one last time. I made sure to pack a Chipotle burrito for the flight as one last goodbye but let's just say it didn't make it to the plane.

On the plane life felt as if it was completely still, the flight attendant would say thirty more hours, and then fifteen hours later she'd say, “first hour done everyone.” However that was nothing compared to the transfer. Holy cungadaro! That was terrible. We had to sit in some room for like ten hours mate, it was so grueling. And the food wasn't even good, it was just a huge waftom. When we landed the first thing I thought to myself was, “jeez this place is hot”.

Let me say when I first landed I was yet to have a growth spurt, quite uncomfortable in my skin and didn't know what the word identify meant. However the island of Bali must have put super powers in the water since I grew six and a half inches in a year and found a confidence within myself. I still don’t know what identify means but I'm working on it.

The first day of school was like every other day except I didn't know anyone. I was more nervous than a baby deer looking into a tiger's open drooling mouth and; oh wait, some guy just offered me a carrot. The first day I figured out exactly what the run down was, there's layers to this and I instantly conjured a nice group of pals. And there was really nothing to be scared or worried about since everyone was so nice. 

Wait… did i say there was nothing to be scared about …

Let’s talk about food for a minute. Remember I told you how much I loved burritos? Well let me tell you, sometimes dreamers have to wake up. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all very similar: chicken. For at least a week and a half it was all chicken, I was terrified. However, once we found a pizza things started to brighten up and all my worries melted away. 

 After settling in I started to think about my friends in LA. I hadn’t called or talked to them since leaving and thought to myself “Well it's over, it was nice to have them as friends for the first couple years of my life.” Though (spoiler) it wasn't like that.

While everyone was really lovely, it took a while to find my tribe - well - if your definition of “a while” is 2 and a half months (which for a 12 year old boy it definitely is.) Half way through term two, I had the lay of the land down; the lingo, the teachers to avoid and where to eat something other than chicken. 

By the end of term two, we’d bonded over the school play and were starting to understand ‘how to middle school. ‘

Now we get to the good part.. Term three. Everyone started inviting me to the beach after school, and we even played paintball. 

So there I was, in the car on the way to the airport, thinking my life in Bali would be nothing but a lone palm tree in a forest of pines. Instead, to carry the analogy forward, I’ve learnt that underneath the ground, we’re connected by our roots. In other words, I found my way to connect to kids on the other side of the world and learnt a few things about myself along the way. I am actually more confident than I gave myself credit for, I’m enthusiastic and daring to try new things and it turns out i’m not too bad at writing either. 

… and lastly, i’m starting to think of myself as a bit of a philosopher, get this: 

Like all things in life, sixth grade middle school had its ups and downs. The ups - mountains, and the downs - valleys, no flat ground in sight. But after all the chaos unfolded, I see it only from a birds eyed view, where the mountains pillars block out the depth of the valleys. 

And as for my friends back home? I was able to call them every weekend and I stayed in touch (at least with the ones I care about) until I went back and got to visit them again. But that’s another story.