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Tag: expat

With the prime minster and National Cabinet introducing caps on the numbers of Australians returning home and a user pays system for mandatory hotel quarantine for returning Australians from mid July, taxpayers may be relieved that they are off the hook for this particular bill. I believe that the government’s argument of it being “fair” and “you’ve had enough time to get home” is flawed — the circumstances of expats are more nuanced and complex than they would have Australians believe, particularly if repatriating beloved pets is involved. My cat (and consequently me) is stuck in limbo in Vietnam because

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This is the 16th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! For the first time since arriving in Vietnam  seven — almost eight — months ago, I am missing home. It’s not for any one particular reason,

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This is the 15th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! I am often asked by people in Australia why I love Vietnam. The answer is easy: it’s because life here is so easy. It’s easy living.

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This is the 12th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  I moved to Vietnam for three months. Or so I thought. But this wonderful country, and Hanoi—with its kind people, gorgeous food and easy lifestyle—has stolen my

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One of the things I regret (and I really don’t have many regrets at all) is that I didn’t travel when I was younger. Instead of partying it up in the 80s, I should have back-packed my way around Asia slumming it in cheap and cheerful hostels, before moving to London or New York for a year or so to work. I know there are all sorts of parallel universe, Sliding Doors arguments as to why things have panned out as they have (my daughter, for one), but I do kick myself every now and then for not traipsing around

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