Passport, please

Depending on how I feel, you will get a different answer to the first or second question you’ll ask me when we meet for the first time. I assume it to be a very simple question to answer for most people, but here’s a non-exhaustive list of some answers I have given so far:

• “I’m from France”
• “I was born in France”
• “I grew up and studied in France”
• “I’m french but I currently live in Germany”
• “I’m from Germany”
• “I currently live in Germany but I’m French”
• “My dad is from here, but I was born in France”
• “My dad is from here, but I was born in France and now live in Germany”
• “Try to guess” (so far the answers I’ve got roughly cover half the globe)

You can sprinkle on top of that some interactions that are a proof of the confusion, on both sides:

• More than one hotel receptionist not expecting someone looking like me when I check in. “You’re… Fred!?”, as if there was a mistake in either the name on the booking or the name on my passport. Or both
• Another hotel receptionist suprised that I could pick up a joke to her colleague about my nationality, in khmer. Which lead me to explain in english how I understood it, and understanding that I only understood half of it
• Seeing “german” next to my name, in the “nationality” column on a passengers list
• A tour guide knowing my nationality, and surprised that I asked for an english audioguide. Or countless people surprised that I’m fluent in english

I’ve been in Cambodia for quite some time and doing my fair share of visits and signtseeing but that’s not really the point, if I’m honest. I think I just wanted to be here to think. Think about all the questions I have around my identity and my roots.

The language thing is the weirdest one. “Foreign and familiar at the same time” is the best description I can give of the Khmer language. I never formally learned it but I can understand it based on bits of conversation heard when I was still a kid, mostly during large family reunions and celebrations. However, I’m unable to speak it. A Dutch born traveller from Indonesian parents told me she had the exact same thought in her head, and it’s just nice to find other people who can relate to this weird concept.

One thing that’s become clear is that I’m not from here. My parents are, but I’m not. If I go down my roots long enough, they may lead me to this location where I was last week, but that’s all. There might be a tiny bit of the culture and history that got to me through my upbringing, but it feels very faint and distant. However, I’m glad I chose to come here in person, and while this may not be the answer I was expecting, it’s better than nothing.

Third culture kid is one of the few names given to this phenomenon, and my version is just one of many ways this can be experienced.

I’ve been thinking about telling this story long before starting this journey. A very extended and detailled story, about what it’s been like growing as a third culture kid. I could write this story anywhere else in the world, but where I am right now feels like the obvious time and place to actually do it. But I need more answers.

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