culture1 “So, where are you from?”

This one question leaves me stranded in a sea of doubt. Where exactly am I from? Am I from the tropical rainforests of Indonesia, or the bustling streets of India? Am I from the rolling plains of Africa, or from the glitz and glamour of Dubai? I flew before I learned to walk, and I realise how small the world actually is.

At the ripe age of three I was whisked away from India, the motherland, to embark on a journey of a lifetime (or at least of 19 years and counting). The first stop on the list was the vast continent of Africa. Nigeria is the definition of contradiction. Where there’s the beauty of the natural wildlife, there’s the crudeness of the slow developing cities.

Our next jump was Dubai, and I was thrusted into the world of glitz and glamour. I then lived in a place where it was not uncommon to smell whiffs of attar and oud round the corner, experienced rapid development in a span of minutes (it would seem), and was at the center of the world – both figuratively and literally.

Come five years, another country was on the horizon. And this time it was archipelago of Indonesia. A welcome change from the urban jungle Dubai was rapidly evolving into, Indonesia was a place of tranquility and serenity. From mouth-watering delicacies (satay and murtabak manis, I’m looking at you), the quaint tuk-tuks roaming the cr25rdv-expat-tmagArticleowded streets, to the most peaceful and docile people, Indonesia has it all.

Having experienced a myriad of cultures from various countries, connecting with a diverse set of people, I now call myself a third culture kid. I don’t have a filter between my heart and my mouth, and I embrace each individual and their way of life. I’m a global nomad, an international traveller filled with wanderlust.

“So, where are you from?”

“I’m a citizen of the world.”

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