I spent my 20s bouncing in and out of Kathmandu, Nepal, where I drank too much gin and smoked too many cigarettes. Somewhere in that foggy mix, I was conducting research toward a PhD in anthropology and teaching university students, but mostly I was hanging out, observing the lives of others and having no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

By the time I hit my thirties, I had dropped out of the PhD program and was climbing my way out of the contradictions that come with expatriate life: being neither here nor there, local nor foreign, mature nor immature.  Read rest of this article at Los Angeles Times.

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