I am seriously considering teaching English abroad again for one year. The idea is to save money teaching, but also live abroad while I am still young. The keyword is ‘young’. I’ll turn 34 in two months, which is difficult to fathom. Physically, I am in better shape than I was 10 years ago. I have a full head of hair and work out vigorously five times a week. I hope that I am a bit more mature, but I also have little inclination to settle down. I don’t feel like I am knocking on the door of being in my mid-thirties. I am not married, nor do I have children. Put me on the basketball court and I will decimate your ego with an unstoppable turn around jumper. Put me on the dance and well…..I still can’t dance and probably never will be able to. To get back to my point, I still feel like I’m in my twenties. Afterall, people are living longer, right? But I get the feeling that society wants me to behave older. Actually, it’s not people over 40 who make me feel this way. They are the ones that usually say, “dam, if I were 10 or 20 years younger, I would be traveling the whole world instead of fighting to pay a mortgage and being stressed out.”
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The issue is with the ones that are my age or younger. It feels like every 25-year-old recently removed from college has to judge and remind you that a social order must be followed and if you do not abide, you are nothing but a wandering weirdo destined for terrible things to come. Of course, these are usually kids who grew up in the suburbs and were shipped off to university and are now ready to make it famous. I don’t have the heart to reveal that half of them will be old, fat, jaded, balding and relationship battered by the time they reach my age. Then there are people my age, give or take a year or two. Many of them seem to be obsessed with the idea that everyone must conform to their way of life. The mentality exist that if I am doing A, then you must execute A as well and if you are not, then you are unfortunately throwing your life away. I truly cherish my friends, but I don’t desire their lives. I feel quite lucky that I am not burdened yet with marriage, children and a mortgage. I plan to have a family and a house one day, but not now. Life is just too enjoyable to be so ridiculously responsible.
You might be thinking, what drives me to want to live abroad again? If you are reading this post, you’ve probably already lived in another country or are contemplating doing so for the first time. In that case, you can relate to me to some extent. You could be around my age and in a similar situation or might be much older or younger. You could even be an even bigger wandering gypsy than I am, but now self-reflecting on the decisions you’ve made in life. Most likely, you came to this article after entering a few keywords related to age, traveling and living abroad in the magical Google search box. Technology and your own fate in the universe has brought you here at this moment of time and space. Regardless, remember that we all have our stories and reasons for leaving our blankets of security in search of the unknown. I’d like to share my story below and please feel free to share your story in the comments or consider writing an article for this blog. For me, my inclination to leave America and venture overseas has always seemed to border on an obsession with those aspects of life that are international and exotic.
I love being abroad. Everything about it. Even waiting in the airport before my flight gives me goose bumps. I’ve always said that my favorite bar is one in an airport before a flight. There you will find me sipping on a beer, smiling, jotting down notes, listening to music and making small talk with complete strangers. I relish in the sensation of arriving to my destination with my backpack strapped to my body, deprived of sleep, yet full of energy and eagerly awaiting adventure. The smell of a new place, anticipated during that long plane or bus ride just before, is the true smell of freedom. It’s almost as good as sex. That moment when you feel liberated, detached and your real self. All of the chaos of the world, obsessions with money and fixations with material objects quickly fade out of consciousness. All the bullshit that we tend to worship at times in the West suddenly becomes irrelevant. When I am abroad, people often ask me why I came to their country. That often seem dumbfounded as to why I would leave America, which for them is usually an image of wealth, opportunity and prosperity. In many ways they are correct, but if you are like me, you can probably understand my desire to go global. To seek out something that often seems to be lacking back home.
When I was child, I would stare at globes and world maps with an intense curiosity. I dreamed of distant places when I was still too young to dream. This was strange since I didn’t grow up in an environment that encouraged traveling or mixing with other cultures. In fact, I never went anywhere as a kid, expect for one weekend trip to the Jersey shore, which isn’t much in the way of traveling. It wasn’t my parents fault. They were always working just to survive. Life in Northeast Pennsylvania was tough, desperate and filled with racism, fear, unquestioned patriotism and xenophobia. But that never seemed to affect me the least bit. I’ve always had a natural erkling for foreign objects, food, customs and people. Nor did I ever feel threatened by others of a different skin color or way of life. I’ve just taken people for who they are as individuals regardless of backgrounds. Looking back, I was a bit odd as a child and definitely out-of-place in Northeastern Pennsylvania. While many of my early peers remain there today, I always knew that I would spend my adult life light years removed from that place.
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We suddenly moved to Las Vegas when I was fifteen, which was radically different. My high school was a mix of the world and college was even more diverse. I married a Japanese woman six years my elder when I was 23. We fell insanely in love two years earlier and eventually wedded in a cheesy Las Vegas chapel without the consent of her parents. Surprisingly, that didn’t go over too well with her family. Shortly after our marriage, she took me to Kyoto, the ancient capital, for two weeks. It was my first time out of the country and everything was surreal. Even buying a coke from a Japanese vending machine became a thrilling event. She was a good woman, but I was entirely too young, immature and ungrounded to be married.
After getting divorced at the age of 25, I eventually would go on to live in Japan for four years. I lived in Sapporo for two and a half years. Sapporo is an amazing, mid-sized city in Hokkaido, which is the northern most island of Japan and blanketed by snow for nearly five months out of the year. I was young, daring and filled with an abundance of energy. Circumstances would eventually take me away from my winter paradise and I spent the last year and a half of my Japanese life on the tropical island of Okinawa, which was like living in another country in itself. Japan was four years of my life that I’ll never forget and will always appreciate.
I came back to America shortly after turning 30. If life in Japan had turned out differently, it’s possible that I could have stayed forever, but dueto the laws of quantum mechanics, I found myself living in Washington D.C., which was quite different to say the least. The first month entailed an instead agony as I suffered harshly from reverse culture shock. I was a foreigner in my country at that point and surrounded by highly competitive and career-driven types, many of whom found me to be a bit strange and just couldn’t work out why I had spent the most important years of my life in Japan rather than building a career in America. But I did not resent them as I believe it’s healthy to always find a common ground in life and discern other perspectives. Some of them were even close friends in the process of constructing successful lives in the nation’s capital while I was off on the other side of the globe. Eventually I adjusted, rekindled old friendships and learned to enjoy life. Being 30, I starting thinking about a career and maybe even settling down with a nice American girl. This turned out to be merely a passing phase.
It wasn’t before long that I unexpectedly met an Argentinian woman two years my elder. She was wild, highly intellectual and charming in so many ways. Our time lasted for a couple of weeks before she had to return to Buenos Aries, but we stayed in touch and continued our conversations via Skype. Although I knew we would never be a good match, I held an innate curiosity for South America and coincidentally, Argentina had always been the one country on the continent I wanted to visit. Washington DC was treating me good at the time, but it was also becoming a bit boring and the feeling that there was a missing component began creeping in. I started dreaming of Argentina and fantasized what it would be like to visit or even live there. I continued my conversations with the woman from Buenos Aires and she was subconsciously luring me in like a bumbling fish in the middle of the ocean.
Just short of one year being back in America, I gave up on settling down, quit my job and bought a ticket to Argentina. I imagined the streets of Buenos Aires, the majestic mountains of Patagonia and all of the wonderful people I would meet in Latin America. When the plane landed and I stepped foot in the Southern Hemisphere for the first time, I had no plan to stay or return, but only to ‘be’ and let the dice roll. Argentina turned out to be an incredible experience, but I was back in Washington DC four months later. Except for a month-long excursion to Ecuador last year, I have been on US soil ever since. I’ve more or less made Washington DC my home since 2011 and it has benefited me in several ways. I have great friends, a healthy social life and live a very active lifestyle. But it’s just not the same and something is missing. That sensation of autonomy, adventure and the unknown is calling me back for more.
So I have decided to venture across oceans once again and teach in either Latin America or Asia. I also realize that I’m fortunate to have such an opportunity in life merely because I am from an English-speaking country. Of course, the world has been so heavily influenced by the ‘American dream’, there are always back home similarities, but in the end adventure awaits. So why am I even writing this post? The issue seems to be that I am letting self-doubt and fear attack my mind like little darts of poison inflicting wounds on my psyche. While I’m excited about living abroad again, nobody else seems to be, including just about all of my family members and friends. On top of that, society seems to disapprove of my lifestyle as well. As much as we like to claim we are a nation of individuals in America, we are mostly conformist that organize our lives around social norms and pressures. Even a person like myself will eventually conform or at least tweak his life to some extent to meet the expectations of others, which I believe we are truly never free from. We can plaster tattoos all over our bodies, wear skinny jeans, backpack across the globe and drink organic coffee, but there is always that pressure to settle down, live out a successful career and eventually wither away in suburbia. I am not saying that these are unworthy ambitious and we settle down in part to satisfy our natural inclination to survive, but I just don’t think I am there yet.
The slight dilemma that I seem to be having is whether or not I am too old for teaching English abroad. I don’t believe I am, but at least half of those that read this post will argue that I am in fact too old. I guess this really comes down to whether or one should give in to the norms of society or live life as an outlier. Many will advise me to be an individual and ignore what people think, but that is easier said than done. In the end, I know I will go abroad because that is who I am as a person, but I am curious to know what others in my situation are experiencing. Those early to mid-thirties types that still feel like they are 25, but just happen to be 33 or so. What are your reasons for venturing to another continent? I am also curious to know what individuals in their 40’s and 50’s think as well as those fresh out of college. It could be we are living in a time when some people just don’t want to grow up and live the American dream. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Personally, I don;’t think that 34 is too old to teach English abroad.
For a list of the best places to teach read: The Best Countries to Teach English Abroad