Third Culture Kids. Paolo and Carmen, my brother and sister, are third culture kids. In the two years I lived and studied in Singapore, I was able to live this third cultured-ness (yeah, not a real word). Every one I met and formed friendships with were from different places, grew up here and there, and everything… transient. But I am not a TCK for the mere fact that I know where I am from. But did that experience make me more “worldly”? Probably. I hope it did.
My family has been living in Bangkok for two years now after the four they spent in Singapore; I visit every six months or so. It’s funny, because I can call Bangkok “home” because a good part of my family calls this home. Over dinner at our neighbour’s house this evening, Carmen casually mentioned that Manila is not her home, but it is mine. For a 5 year-old girl, she’s incredibly aware. She was born in Singapore, and is currently being raised here; Paolo was born and raised in Manila but he’s incredibly international.
It’s strange, this feeling of being half and half. I get to live the “third culture” life through my family. I call Singapore home for it was an incredible two years (of course my teenage self didn’t realize it until later on); at the same time I call Bangkok home– though I feel like a tourist, and do not know the city or the culture so well– since this is where my family has settled down for the mean time; and for obvious reasons, Manila is home, too. Maybe in another few years, my family will pick up their roots and plant themselves in another city of another country, and call that home. And so will I.
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