10 Years in Asia: How Stepping Into the Unknown Changed My World
Ten years. Countless adventures. One life-changing journey.
When I first packed my bags for Asia, I wasn’t chasing some perfectly laid-out plan. I wasn’t following a guidebook or blueprint. I was chasing something—a sense of movement, possibility, and freedom that I couldn’t quite define at the time.
I had just finished university in New Zealand, and like many young grads, I felt stuck. The job market felt tight, the opportunities limited. I moved to Melbourne for a year, hoping for a spark—but I still felt like I was just scratching the surface of the world. A quick trip to Europe lit a fire in me. I realized how little of the world I had seen, and how much I wanted to experience more.
And then came Vietnam.
Vietnam: Learning to Let Go
I had never been to Asia before. In fact, I knew almost nothing about Vietnam aside from a few grainy YouTube videos and stories from other English teachers online. But something about it pulled me in—it was raw, real, and slightly off the beaten path. Unlike Thailand or parts of Indonesia, Vietnam didn’t feel touristy. It felt like an adventure waiting to happen.
I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City with no job lined up, no contacts, and no real idea of what I was doing. Within hours, I was ripped off by a taxi driver outside the airport. I had no Vietnamese dong, no SIM card, no bearings—and the city greeted me with a tidal wave of motorbikes, horns, street food smells, and humidity. It was overwhelming. It was chaos. It was... alive.
The language sounded aggressive at first, like everyone was yelling—even though they weren’t. Walking across the street felt like a death wish. And yet, little by little, things began to click. I learned to ride a scooter, find the best banh mì stall for breakfast, and sip ridiculously strong iced coffee to kickstart the day. A week in, I’d landed a job teaching English — suddenly, this chaotic place started to feel like something I could call home.
I’ll never forget those mornings: a simple sandwich, a caffeine hit that could power a small city, and the slow realization that I was building a life in a place I once couldn’t find on a map. Vietnam taught me to expect the unexpected—and more importantly, to stop expecting things to look or feel a certain way. It taught me how to move with the flow rather than against it.
The Journey to Shanghai
After a year in Vietnam, I started craving more professional growth. Teaching was fulfilling, but I wanted to expand into curriculum development, coaching, and something beyond the classroom. That’s when Shanghai entered the picture.
EF Education First made the transition smooth—visa support, onboarding, and a structured environment. I had watched videos of the Bund lit up at night, neon lights reflecting off the Huangpu River, and thought: I need to see this for myself.
And wow, did it deliver.
Standing in Lujiazui, surrounded by the towering skyline—including the second-tallest building in the world—I was in awe. Coming from Hamilton, New Zealand (population: 200,000) to Shanghai (25 million) was almost incomprehensible.
Yet strangely, it didn’t feel overwhelming. The city was massive, but organized. Fast, but functional. It had a rhythm. It made sense—once you stopped trying to compare it to anywhere else.
The shift from Vietnam to China came with new challenges. The biggest was tech: Vietnam was still mostly cash-based. Shanghai? QR codes for everything. I’d reach for my wallet, only to realize all I needed was my phone. Payments, chats, directions, even food delivery—everything was digital.
Mandarin was another hurdle. Despite Shanghai’s international feel, everyday life still required some level of Chinese. Ordering food, booking tickets, navigating bureaucracy—it all demanded effort. But like in Vietnam, little by little, I adapted.
In the early days, EF gave me a built-in community. Dozens of foreign teachers, dinners, events, and shared stories. Shanghai felt welcoming. Easy, even. But over the years, especially during COVID, that community began to disappear. Friends left. Neighborhoods changed. And I found myself questioning: *Is this still where I belong?*
Despite the ups and downs, Shanghai became home. Not because of the skyline, or the convenience, or the hotpot—but because of the people. Weekend bike rides, long chats at coffee shops, spontaneous night walks through the French Concession… those are the things that made me stay.
Over nine years, I shifted careers multiple times—teaching, training, online education, . I learned how to adapt, how to reinvent myself, and how to keep growing even when the world around me felt uncertain.
Shanghai gave me space to explore, not just the world—but who I was becoming.
Closing
This post is the first in a multi-part series on my 10 years living in Asia. In the next chapter, I’ll take you deeper into life in Shanghai—from culture clashes and career shifts to rooftop dinners and quiet moments that shaped who I am today.
If you’ve ever thought about taking a leap—whether across the world or just out of your comfort zone—I hope this series inspires you to explore what’s waiting on the other side.
Coming up next: Part 2 – Life in Motion: Finding My Place in Shanghai
