This NetExpat Interview gave me the chance to reflect on relocation, creativity, memory, belonging, and the quiet process of finding home again.

When we relocated to the USA in 2023, the NetExpat Community was introduced to us as part of the relocation support offered through Rio Tinto.

At the time, I was still trying to understand what it really meant to start again in a new country. Moving is never only about changing an address. It is also about learning new rhythms, finding your place in unfamiliar streets, carrying what you left behind, and slowly building a new sense of belonging.

Soon after, I became a member of the NetExpat Community. Over time, I came to appreciate how thoughtfully this closed global network supports relocating partners and spouses through the many visible and invisible layers of this experience. Through shared stories, practical resources, meet-ups, and a sense of connection, it creates a space where relocation is understood not only as a logistical process but also as a deeply personal journey.

I had occasionally shared some of my blog posts within the community, mostly as reflections from my own life as an artist, a relocating partner, and someone constantly thinking about home, memory, identity, and belonging. So when I was invited for this written interview, it felt very special. It felt like a gentle pause — a chance to look back at my own journey and put into words some of the feelings that often stay beneath the surface.

I would like to sincerely thank the NetExpat Community and Michaela Osborne, Senior Manager, Global Client Services, for this kind invitation and for giving me the opportunity to share a part of my relocation story with such a meaningful community.

Below is the full interview, where I return to some of the questions that have been quietly following me through this journey: What do we carry when we move, how do we begin again, and how can creativity help us feel at home in a place that is still becoming familiar?

 

Ozlem’s Slice of Life

By NetExpat Team

 

 Can you tell us a little about your background, your journey as a relocating partner, and what brought you to Arizona?

First of all, I would like to sincerely thank the NetExpat Community for giving me this opportunity to share part of my story.

My name is Özlem. I am a visual artist, former academic, curator, and gallery founder. I was born and raised in Türkiye, where I studied fine arts and later completed my MA and PhD in stage design. For many years, I worked as a university lecturer while continuing my own artistic practice. Later, life took me to Australia, where I lived for several years, founded and directed an art gallery in Adelaide, and continued to build my life around art, community, and creativity.

My journey as a relocating partner happened in two stages.

The first stage was practical and emotional at the same time. My husband had accepted a position in Arizona, so we moved our home, our cats, and the essential parts of our life here to help him begin this new chapter. But I then returned to Australia because I was still running the art gallery I had founded there. I was not ready to close that door immediately.

The following year became a time of living between two countries. I was moving back and forth between Australia and the USA, trying to honor both my own work and our shared life. Eventually, we both realized that this state of separation was not something we wanted to continue. So I made the difficult decision to close the physical gallery in Adelaide and move fully to Arizona.

When I first arrived, Arizona felt almost like a holiday after the intense rhythm of art events, exhibitions, and gallery life in Adelaide. The desert light, the wide sky, and the slower beginning gave me space to breathe. But, as with every holiday, once that first feeling passed, I understood that I had gathered enough energy to roll up my sleeves again and begin building the next dream.

Two things brought us to Arizona: family and my husband’s work. Compared to Australia, being in the USA made us feel closer to Türkiye, which became more important as our parents were getting older. At the same time, my husband received a meaningful professional opportunity here. So, when these two reasons came together, it felt like a door we should not ignore.

 

How do you find living in the USA compares to living in Türkiye and/or Australia?

Life in the USA is very different from both Türkiye and Australia, but after living in three different countries, I have learned something very simple and very important: comparison can be exhausting.

In my early years in Australia, I compared things constantly. I compared daily life, friendships, systems, habits, social behavior, and even the way people communicated. Sometimes those comparisons made me happy, and sometimes they made me disappointed. But mostly, they kept me emotionally suspended between two places.

My husband had more experience living abroad than I did, and many of his observations helped me. One of the most useful things I learned from him was to stop comparing so much and start observing more.

When I began to accept each country as it was, not as a better or worse version of another place, my experience changed. I became more open, more flexible, and more curious. I started to discover the rhythm of each place instead of trying to measure it against the life I had known before.

Türkiye gave me my roots, my language, my emotional landscape, and much of my artistic foundation. Australia gave me courage, independence, and the experience of rebuilding myself in a new culture. The USA, and especially Arizona, is now teaching me how to begin again with everything I have learned so far.

What would be your advice to other relocating partners who are planning to move to the USA?

My advice would be to arrive with as much openness and patience as possible.

It is natural to miss the place you left behind. It is natural to compare, especially at the beginning. But if comparison becomes the main lens, it can make the new place feel colder or more difficult than it really is.

A new country needs time to reveal itself. Friendships need time. A sense of belonging needs time. Even finding your favorite grocery store, your walking route, your doctor, your community, your small rituals, all of these things take time.

For me, patience became a very important practice. I had to remind myself that just because something was not happening immediately did not mean it would never happen. New friendships were waiting, but they needed space to grow. New opportunities were possible, but they needed consistency. A new sense of home could be built, but not overnight.

So I would say: do not rush yourself. Stay open. Keep showing up. Say yes to small invitations. Ask for help when you need it. Let the new country surprise you before deciding what it means to you.

Can you share an example of a “culture shock” situation you experienced either in Australia or in the USA?

One of the biggest culture shocks I experienced, first in Australia and later in the USA, was the strong sense of personal boundaries.

Coming from Türkiye, where social life can be very close, warm, involved, and sometimes beautifully intense, I initially found this different. In Australia, a friend once described it very well by saying, “Nobody lives in anyone else’s pocket.” I never forgot that sentence.

At first, this kind of distance can feel unfamiliar. You may wonder if people are being cold or uninterested. But with time, I began to understand it differently. I saw that these boundaries often create space for people to respect each other’s needs, choices, privacy, and rhythm.

I came to find this very liberating.

Relationships may look more distant from the outside, but they can also carry a quiet respect. People allow each other room to be themselves. For me, this was a cultural adjustment, but also a beautiful lesson. I learned that closeness does not always have to mean constant presence, and care does not always have to be expressed through involvement.

What have been the most challenging moments emotionally during your life as an expat?

Some of the most emotionally challenging moments for me happened during emergencies, when I suddenly had to express fear, pain, or panic in my second language.

One experience happened in Australia, on a narrow mountain road with only one lane each way. My car overheated badly, and I was terrified that something serious was going to happen. I called a mechanic, but I was so frightened that I completely forgot I was supposed to speak English. I started speaking Turkish. If the mechanic had not gently told me that he could not understand, I would have sworn I was speaking English to him.

Another difficult moment happened during an emergency room visit. Again, I found myself trying to explain what was happening with a tongue almost frozen by fear.

In daily life, speaking another language can feel manageable. But in moments of panic, your mother tongue rises from somewhere very deep. It is not only about vocabulary. It is about wanting to be understood immediately, completely, and safely.

Over time, I became more comfortable expressing myself in difficult situations in English, too. But those moments taught me how vulnerable we can feel when we are far from the language that first taught us how to ask for help.

Have you discovered any new interests, skills, or directions since relocating?

One of the first things I discovered was the comfort of realizing that I was not the only person going through this experience.

Relocation can feel very personal, but it is also shared by so many people in different ways. When I understood that, I felt less alone.

A new skill I developed was learning how to share my experience more openly and ask for help. Before relocation, I was very used to doing everything by myself. I thought I could manage everything alone because I had always been independent, hardworking, and resourceful.

But relocation humbled me in a very meaningful way.

I learned that asking for help is not a weakness. It is a form of connection. It allows other people to enter your life. It creates small bridges. Sometimes a simple question, a shared coffee, or a community conversation can become the beginning of feeling grounded again.

Artistically, relocation also deepened my work. Themes such as home, belonging, memory, migration, vulnerability, and identity became even more central to my practice. I began to see that my own movements across countries were not separate from my art; they were becoming part of its language.

What have you found useful about being a member of the NetExpat Community?

What I have found most useful about the NetExpat Community is the feeling of shared experience.

As I mentioned earlier, being able to speak honestly about the relocation process helped me. Through NetExpat, I also had the chance to read and listen to the stories of others who were moving through similar transitions. That was very valuable.

Sometimes, it is not only practical information we need, although useful tips are always helpful. Sometimes we need to hear, “Yes, this is part of the process. Someone else has felt this, too.”

The community offers that sense of recognition. It reminds you that the emotional side of relocation matters as much as the practical side. For relocating partners, especially, this can be very important, because our journeys often include invisible layers: leaving behind a professional identity, rebuilding networks, finding a new rhythm, and redefining what home means.

NetExpat helped me feel connected to a wider circle of people who understand these layers.

As a “seasoned” expat, are there a couple of key words of advice you would offer other relocating partners?

If I had to choose a few keywords, they would be passion, patience, openness, and trust.

Passion, because whatever we want to build in a new country needs an inner fire. It may be a career, a creative practice, a family life, a social circle, or simply a peaceful daily routine.

Patience, because nothing meaningful grows immediately. A new life needs time, and we need to be gentle with ourselves during that time.

Openness, because each place has something to teach us if we do not arrive with all our conclusions already formed.

And trust, because even when we feel lost, we are often quietly gathering the materials for the next version of our life.

For me, relocation is not only about changing countries. It is also about meeting ourselves in a new landscape. Sometimes that is difficult. Sometimes it is lonely. But I believe it can also become a beautiful invitation to grow.