I was always drawn to new experiences and opportunities. My work in investment banking and asset management brought me to Singapore for almost five years. After being laid off, I found myself in Bali with my then-husband and our seven-year-old daughter, running a small boutique hotel. After four years of island life, I returned to the finance world, taking roles in Japan and later in Myanmar.
I went to Texas A&M University. It's a big school in a small-town bubble, where friendliness and tradition rule. I built a good life in Texas. I married a local boy, raised kids, built a career, and did everything the cultural syllabus told me to do. But deep down, I always felt a little out of place, like the transfer student who arrived halfway through the semester.
I'm an attorney from Atlanta and have practiced for three decades - 25 years as a prosecutor and five in defense - but I've always had a creative side. I was always baking and entertaining, and my friends would even pay me to bake for them. Eventually, I realized I could turn it into a business - Delights by Dawn - and it blossomed. My niche became alcohol-infused cakes and cupcakes, which drew a lot of attention.
Barely a week goes by without the British press telling the story of somebody moving to Dubai for lower taxes or, conversely, that the Dubai dream is dead. The city-state benefits from this discourse-fuelled soft power. It strikes both the haves and have-notes. Dubai fever is democratic. The city is an El Dorado of the east for remittance-sending strivers, sun-seeking expats and scammers. For many, it represents an unsettling post-western horizon.