I was six years old.  I was already in love with traveling, the excitement of airports, getting on planes and getting the window seat.  Going to new cities  and staying in shiny new places.  My mind made up, I turned to my mother, and said:
“When I grow up, I want a job where I travel all the time”.
“Great”, she answered.  “You can become a truck driver”.
I wasn’t entirely impressed with her answer, obviously.  But it is a conversation I remember often, especially during the early  sessions with a coaching client …

I was born with the typical set of genetics for an East African.  I was skinny.   My mother would fret that neighbours secretly thought I was not fed enough. Actually, I ate like a horse, and especially loved anything that involved rice or pasta.   Yet, I stayed lean, right through  college junk food fests, lavish lunches with girlfriends and late night snacks of halwa and doughnuts. Thanks to my naturally elevated metabolism.  Ah, so true that we don’t know what we’ve got till we lose it …
Then it all changed.  …

This is not a post about Hannah Montana.  It is about third culture, and one the main premises of this blog.
Third culture individuals are typically those who have grown up in foreign countries, their formative years in environments outside of the father’s and mother’s home cultures.
However, I would contend that in today’s globalized and increasingly connected world, there are other groups of individuals who fall into the third culture category.  I know, I know.  Must we always peg and classify people? Can’t we all be individual, different, unique? Of course …