From New Caledonia to Auckland — why I always knew I would leave
I was ten years old
I was ten years old the first time I told myself I’d find work that let me live anywhere.
It wasn’t really an idea that came out of nowhere. My dad was in the French Foreign Legion. My mum, my little brother and I: we followed him everywhere. We’d pack up the boxes, find a new school, start a new life, then do it all over again somewhere else. I’ve crossed half the globe that way. New room every year, new faces, new country, new culture.
What I understood at ten was this: I could either let myself be dragged around from place to place, or I could decide one day to choose it myself. So I chose the second option. I told myself: I’ll do something with my hands. Something that travels with me. Something nobody can take away by changing my posting.
Drawing was already part of my life then. It was the one constant in the suitcase.
New Caledonia — the place where I breathe
Out of everywhere I’ve lived, New Caledonia is where I stayed the longest outside of France. My brother was born there. It’s the country of my childhood in the most real sense, not just a stop along the way.
There’s something about New Caledonia I don’t find anywhere else. A light, a pace, a way of existing in the world that just feels like mine. I’m happy there. I could so easily have stayed.
But in my mid-twenties, trying to build a freelance career and wanting some kind of long-term financial stability, the stakes aren’t the same. The choice was clear: either stay in something comfortable and small (New Caledonia, even after everything that’s happened there) or choose a country that gave me more room to build.
Why not Canada — and why New Zealand
Canada came up a lot in my parents’ expat conversations when I was younger. When I was 14, my mum nearly got posted there. She turned it down, she didn’t want to put us through yet another move. So we never went. I sometimes wonder what that version of my life would’ve looked like. It was the first time they’d told us about a move in advance, even if we still didn’t really get a say.
I’ve thought about it often since. Canada draws me, and it stays somewhere in the back of my mind as a possibility for later.
But at that point, what mattered most was being close to New Caledonia. Auckland is three hours from Nouméa. Same part of the world. That connection stays alive. And economically, New Zealand offered exactly what I was looking for: an English-speaking market, a proper structure for working independently, a stability I couldn’t find elsewhere at that stage.
I’m not going to romanticise this choice. It was pragmatic, made with clear eyes. But also with my heart, there was someone I’d been dreaming of doing this with. Both things can exist at the same time.
The departure — what finally removed the last obstacle
You probably see where this is going. The plan to leave had been in my head for a long time, New Zealand or Canada, depending on what came up first. A working holiday visa we’d looked into, a ridiculous amount of research, conversations about the pros and cons, about going with Rouky, about going alone or not alone. And then reasons to wait. Always another good reason to hold off just a little longer.
Then something ended. A relationship. And with it, the last reason not to go.
I’d already spent two months preparing a trip back to New Caledonia: to heal, to breathe, to get some distance. Then one message changed everything. Eight days between that message and my flight. Not impulsive. Everything had been ready in my head for years. I just needed the right moment.
What it actually changed
I’m not going to sell you expat life as some kind of idyllic adventure, especially not with a dog. The first months in Auckland are lonely. You rebuild from scratch: your bearings, your routines, your professional network. You work out of sync with your European clients. You watch an unfamiliar city from your window and slowly, slowly make it yours. And you spend your time preparing for the arrival of the most important little soul in your life: Rouky.
(More on bringing Rouky from France to New Zealand, coming soon.)
What I gained though, is the confirmation that what I decided at ten years old was actually possible. That drawing travels. That stability isn’t a place, it’s something you build. In your routines, in your work, in the way you set up your things even in a temporary space.
My iPad and Anju are my stability. They were in France. They’re in Auckland. Maybe somewhere else one day.
But they’re mine.
If you want to follow what comes next (projects, life in Auckland, the Anju Draw rebrand) you know where to find me. And if you have questions about my move, I’d love to hear them.
Comments