My family’s decision to accept jobs in the Middle East a few years ago was eight parts financial and two parts thirst for adventure. Our 2-year-old could grow up bilingual! Exotic getaways to Egypt, Sri Lanka and Dubai would be as easy and cheap as flying to Disney World! Our skiing pictures from Lebanon would make our friends so jealous!

When it was all over, none of us could speak anything beyond pidgin Arabic and we only hit three bucket list destinations (no skiing). But here, 8,000 miles from anything familiar, is where I abandoned myself to the world and discovered what I was made of. It could have been anywhere. For me, it happened to be Kuwait, a desert country the size of Rhode Island.

Here are the lessons I learned living abroad:

Lesson #1: We are all the same, just filtered by culture. Once a week, while teaching English at a local American university, I’d toss lesson plans aside and talk culture: the deep roots and the spores. I learned that everybody dreams about flying and falling, everyone loves Oprah, and no one wants to be stereotyped. That said, I learned to identify an American just by gait from 50 yards away.

Lesson #2: You are not the center of the universe. When you live in a place with rules and norms very different from yours, you adjust. For me, I could celebrate Kuwait’s liberation from Iraq in 1991 by squirting Silly String at strangers in the street, but I could wave neither my own flag nor the Kuwaiti flag. I could not shake a man’s hand and I could not wear shorts. This was a land to which I did not belong, but I learned to feel OK about it. I was always aware of being part of larger world; now I had to dwell in it. That turned into, Wow—I am able to dwell in it!

Lesson #3: You are a citizen of the world. Foreign workers far outnumbered locals where I lived. It was a real melting pot. I purposely connected with as many as possible. I debated politics with my Syrian taxi driver, exchanged marmite and pumpkin pie with my British friends, and comforted the Kuwaiti woman in the doctor’s waiting room—the one who lifted her niqab to show me her disastrous attempt to go blond. Day by day, I allowed people’s stories to seep into my soul the way a sandstorm’s dust finds its way into the most interior closets. We all have stories; it pays to listen.

Lesson #4: There is always someone better off than you and less fortunate than you. Classism is alive and well everywhere. So is gender inequality. So is racism. Western expats also create a pecking order, comparing homes, vacations and employer perks. I got caught up in this game until I met a housemaid who had come from a remote province in the Philippines. She spoke neither Arabic nor English. She had never seen a soda can before. She and her family had squatted under a tarp against a tree for three years, subsisting on coconuts and sweet potatoes. Her job in the Gulf, however lowly, still enabled her children to go to school and her family to buy their own land.

Lesson #5: Kindness matters. When we moved into a neighborhood of locals, we found ourselves the only westerns on our block. My outreach attempts were returned only by a friendly wave (the women) or a tentative nod (the men). That is simply part of an insular culture. However, during our first Ramadan, we were delighted when housemaids appeared at our door every night at sunset, bearing huge iftar meals: fragrant platters of basmati rice, chicken and vegetables. As non-Muslims, we were not required to fast; but it served as a powerful acknowledgment. Now, back in the States, I may not know my neighbors, but I let them know I am there for them.

Lesson #6: Your path is not your destiny. Plunged into a strange country, I seized chance to reinvent myself. I had long been a hard news journalist, a job with inherent risks in a volatile region. I didn’t want go there, so I that risk, so I took on others: teaching, magazine editing and volunteering. Always shadowed by a fear of failure, I finally felt free to take chances without lasting consequences. After all, no one knew me.

Through my journey, I mustered the courage to expand my skills. I ended up expanding my mind along the way. I learned that risk-taking is the best way to learn who you are. When you live outside your comfort zone, you have no choice but to grow. 

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About the Author

Marie Hickman

Marie Hickman is a journalist, freelance writer and . She is writing a book about women in the Middle East. When she's not traveling, she and her family live in Palm Harbor, Florida.