禁漫天堂

You've lived in so many different countries, from Italy to Asia to the Caribbean. Can you take us back to your very first expat experience? What drew you abroad, and how did it shape your outlook?

My very first expat experience was in Tokyo at the age of 14. Since I moved there with my family, I didn't have to deal with the logistics of relocating 鈥� finding schools, doctors, or housing. At that age, my challenge was simply to fit into a new school environment, make friends, and explore a completely different world.

My first independent expat experience came later, in Manchester, where I began working. That's also where I met my ex-husband, and together we started a life of moving around the world. What drew me abroad was a mix of curiosity and opportunity 鈥� the desire to learn in new environments, meet people from other cultures, and keep discovering what life had to offer.

I had already left Italy at the age of 7 and continued moving every 3鈥�4 years, so change became my normal. I never had the sense of truly 鈥渟ettling down.鈥� Living as an expat shaped me in ways I didn't expect: it taught me how to adapt quickly, to listen more than I spoke, and to understand that home is not just one place 鈥� it's wherever you create it.

Each relocation comes with challenges. Was there ever a place where the adjustment was harder than expected?

The first country I truly struggled to adjust to was China. I lived in three different cities over six years, and each time I faced new challenges. China is a stunning and fascinating country, but living there is very different from visiting as a tourist. Beyond adapting to the cultural norms and workplace etiquette, I had to adjust to the climate 鈥� especially the pollution. At first, I managed, but once I became a mother, my children's health became my top priority, and the constant smog was a heavy burden.

Surprisingly, the hardest adjustment of all came when I returned to Brussels after so many years in Asia. I assumed that going 鈥渉ome鈥� to Europe would be easy since I had family there. But after years in Singapore, Malaysia, and Japan, I was used to the climate, the food, and the rhythms of daily life in Asia. Back in Brussels, I was suddenly facing four seasons again, a completely new school system for my children, and the reality of starting over as a single mother. It was a different kind of culture shock 鈥� not stepping into the unknown but rediscovering a familiar place with very different eyes.

You've raised children abroad in multiple countries. What do you think are the biggest gifts and challenges of raising 鈥渢hird culture kids鈥�?

The greatest gift has been their open-mindedness. My children grew up respecting other cultures, trying foods most kids would turn their noses up at, and speaking more than one language. They became adaptable and resilient 鈥� qualities that will serve them for life. They also seem to have caught the 鈥渕oving bug鈥�! As young adults now, they already talk about relocating once they finish their studies and traveling the globe. A sedentary life doesn't appeal to them yet. Maybe one day they'll want to plant roots, but for now they're following in my footsteps.

The biggest challenge, of course, was the constant goodbyes. Every move meant leaving behind friends, routines, and familiarity. As a mother, it was heartbreaking to watch them go through those painful transitions. But it also gave me the chance to teach them how to process change, grieve what was lost, and embrace what came next. I believe those lessons will stay with them for life 鈥� and perhaps one day, they'll pass them on to their own children.

How did you and your family build a sense of belonging in each new place you lived?

For us, belonging always started at home. I tried to make our house, wherever we were, a safe and familiar space for the children. Then came school 鈥� that was essential for them to integrate quickly. Having a support system was equally important, especially with other mums. In every new city, one of my top priorities was to connect with other expat mothers. These groups, whether formal or informal, became our lifeline. We met up regularly with our children, supported one another, and filled the gap left by husbands who were often working long hours. Those friendships helped us cope with the loneliness and gave us the strength to adapt.

Food also played a huge role in creating a sense of belonging. Learning to cook local dishes, going to hawker centers in Singapore, tasting dumplings in China, or enjoying asopao in Puerto Rico 鈥� these experiences grounded us and created bridges to the local culture.

And of course, exploring the city and country was essential. Interacting with locals, understanding their traditions, and respecting their way of life helped us integrate in a meaningful way. I always reminded myself and taught my children that we were guests in their country. Belonging, for me, has always meant adapting with respect and openness.

Your new memoir, Where the World Took Me, captures decades of experiences. What inspired you to put these stories into a book now?

The idea had been with me for years, but I always thought, who would want to read my stories? During a quieter period, I began writing little memories 鈥� almost like journaling 鈥� and realized how much joy it brought me. The more I wrote, the more I saw that these weren't just my stories. They were lessons about resilience, friendship, food, and the beauty of different cultures. I wanted to share that with others 鈥� expats who might relate, or readers who simply want to travel through words.

How did you choose which stories made it into the book, given such a rich and varied journey?

It was difficult! I chose the ones that stayed with me most vividly, the moments I could still taste, smell, or feel years later. Some stories were funny, some painful, others heartwarming 鈥� but together they painted an honest picture of life abroad. I also wanted a balance: food, people, daily life, struggles, and small joys. I didn't want it to be just about travel 鈥� it's about the human experience of living between cultures.

In your book, you highlight food, friendships, and resilience. Can you share one food memory that instantly transports you back to a specific country?

There are so many to choose from! A steaming bowl of ramen in Tokyo, or a spicy Indian breakfast in Malaysia with dosa, coconut, and potatoes鈥� just writing about it makes me hungry.

But the food memory that instantly takes me back is the Chinese pan-fried pork dumplings. I can still see them lined up in the sizzling pan, the steam escaping as the bottoms turned golden and crisp while the tops stayed soft. The smell alone was enough to make me impatient 鈥� that mix of dough, pork, and sesame oil. And the first bite? Pure magic. Juicy, flavourful, slightly crunchy at the bottom, soft at the top. It was impossible to eat just one. Those dumplings weren't only food, they were comfort, and the taste of China all wrapped in one little bite.

Friendships often play a key role in the expat experience. What have you learned about building meaningful connections while constantly moving?

I learned to open up quickly. When you're an expat, you don't have years to slowly build friendships 鈥� you connect fast or you miss the chance. Some of my deepest friendships came from those intense, shared moments of navigating a new culture together. And I also learned to let go with grace. People come and go in expat life, but that doesn't lessen the bond you had. Some friends are still in my life decades later; others I carry in my heart.

You speak about resilience as a theme in your life abroad. Can you recall a moment when you had to reinvent yourself in a new country?

Returning to Brussels after my divorce was that moment. I had to rebuild from the ground up 鈥� find a home, guide my children through a new language and school system, and figure out how to support us financially. That's when I decided, together with my brother, to open our gelateria. I knew little about running such a business, but it gave me flexibility and purpose. Reinvention isn't easy, but it's possible when you're motivated by love and necessity.

Having lived across so many cultures, how has your sense of identity evolved?

My identity has become a blend. I am Italian at heart, but also shaped by Asia, by Puerto Rico, and now by Belgium. I don't feel I belong entirely to one place anymore 鈥� instead, I carry pieces of many cultures with me. It has made me more empathetic, more flexible, and less attached to rigid definitions of 鈥渉ome.鈥� My identity is more about people and values than geography.

Many expats will see parts of themselves in your journey. What advice would you give to someone just beginning their life abroad?

Be curious, be humble, and be patient with yourself. You will make mistakes, you will feel lonely, and you will miss home. That's normal. But every new place has something to teach you, and if you stay open, you'll gain more than you lose. And don't forget 鈥� it's okay to have hard days. They don't mean you're failing; they mean you're human.

If you could sum up your memoir's core message for expats and globally mobile families, what would it be?

That you are stronger than you think, and that joy can be found in the smallest things 鈥� a shared meal, a kind neighbour, a festival, a view from your window. Life abroad isn't always glamorous, but it is always enriching. And even when you feel like an outsider, you're building resilience and memories that will stay with you forever.

Do you see yourself settling down somewhere now, or does the pull of international life remain strong?

For now, I feel rooted in Brussels 鈥� my children are young adults, my gelateria is here, and together we've built a stable life. Yet I can't ignore that familiar tingling inside me, the little voice whispering that change is coming. I feel the need to move again, this time away from the bustle of the city.

Maybe it's my age, or simply the rhythm of a life lived on the move, but I find myself dreaming of the ocean 鈥� of a quieter place along the Portuguese coast, where time slows down, where stress dissolves, and peace can be found in the sound of the waves.

I don't think the international spirit ever truly leaves you once you've lived it. It becomes part of who you are. Whether I move again or simply carry the world within me, that spirit will always guide the way I live.