How does returning home after 16 years in the Middle East shape a new chapter in your life?

After 16 years living and working in the Middle East, I’ve recently returned to the UK to begin a new chapter of my life. It’s been a transformative journey—professionally and personally—and now I’m standing at the crossroads of an exciting, albeit uncertain, future. And let’s be honest, moving back to a land of drizzle and cups of tea takes some getting used to after years of sunshine and shawarma.

From Here to There

For over 16 years, I was immersed in light rail and transportation projects across the Gulf region. From enduring the blistering heat of Dubai to navigating the bustling streets of Riyadh, I focused on operations and sustainability, contributing to some truly remarkable developments.

I had the privilege of working on groundbreaking projects, collaborating with exceptional people, and thriving in a fast-paced, dynamic industry. Along the way, I even mastered the art of wearing a suit in 40-degree heat without resembling a melted candle—a skill that, unsurprisingly, hasn’t seen much use here in England.

There and Back Again

Now, home couldn’t feel more different from the deserts of the Middle East. I’ve settled in a small village in Cumbria, nestled near the Scottish border, surrounded by rolling hills, winding rivers, and some of the most breathtaking countryside the UK has to offer. Gone are the towering skyscrapers, the bustling metro systems, and the relentless pace of urban life. Instead, I’ve traded them for the quiet charm of a village where the loudest noise is the occasional bleating of sheep.

The contrast couldn’t be more striking. In the Middle East, life was all about rapid growth, cutting-edge infrastructure, and the hum of projects that never seemed to sleep. Here, the days are punctuated by the occasional tractor rumbling down the lane. It’s a slower, more deliberate way of life, and while it took some adjusting, I’ve come to appreciate its simplicity and calm.

That’s not to say I don’t miss certain conveniences. I do sometimes find myself craving the variety of fast food shops and the ever-present buzz of a city that’s always awake. But in their place, I’ve discovered something I never fully realized I was missing: space to breathe. There’s a freedom in stepping outside my front door, walking 5 minutes, and seeing endless fields instead of endless traffic, in hearing the wind rustle through the trees rather than the constant hum of air conditioning units.

A New Pace of Life

Life in Cumbria has also given me the chance to reconnect with nature in ways I’d almost forgotten were possible. Here, I’m surrounded by trails that beckon for exploration, rivers that sparkle in the sunlight, and hills that seem to stretch endlessly into the horizon. The Lake District is practically on my doorstep, and I can’t wait to lose myself in its beauty—whether it’s through quiet hikes, moments by the water, or just standing still and soaking it all in. Settling here also means I’ve had the chance to rediscover the joy of community. In a village, everyone knows everyone—or at least they seem to! Neighbors stop for a chat, the local shopkeeper knows who you are, and there’s a warmth and friendliness that feels like a balm after years of city anonymity. It’s a slower pace, yes, but it’s also one filled with connection, something that’s easy to overlook in the rush of modern life.

As different as it is, I’ve come to see this change not just as a new chapter, but as an opportunity to redefine what home means to me. It’s about finding balance, about appreciating the beauty of simplicity, and about learning to embrace the quiet joys that come with a slower pace. And while I might still wonder where all the coffee shops have gone, I know that this little village, with its rolling fields and woods, is exactly where I’m meant to be right now. 

Life here moves at a different rhythm. The mornings are marked by the calls of church bells and birds rather than the hum of construction sites. Instead of navigating busy cityscapes, I plan to explore the rugged beauty of the Lake District, the Solway Coast, and places close to home like Talkin Tarn. These stunning locations are on my list to visit. I'm looking forward to weekend hikes, quiet moments by the lake, and strolls through picturesque villages—accompanied by Gunner, my English Springer Spaniel with the energy output of a nuclear reactor. He’ll likely drag me up a fell or two whether I’m ready or not. It’s a lifestyle I’m hoping will balance mindfulness with the occasional muddy chaos—qualities that urban living never quite managed to deliver.

Exploring the Next Adventure

This shift has made me reconsider what my next adventure might look like. Living in a rural area to be closer to family means that relocating to regions with active light rail projects is no longer an option. So now, at 55, I find myself asking: What do I do next? Do I aim for a small, stress-free job that lets me enjoy this new lifestyle—something that doesn’t involve Excel spreadsheets and endless meetings? Or do I look at passing on my knowledge and skills, perhaps mentoring the next generation or consulting within the industry? Maybe I could run workshops on “How to Survive in a Suit in the Desert”—though I’m not sure how big the market is for that.

My expertise in operations, sustainability, and large-scale project management has plenty of crossover potential. Renewable energy, rural infrastructure development, or even local community projects could be interesting avenues to explore. The UK’s push toward green energy and net-zero goals aligns closely with my background and beliefs in sustainable practices, and the idea of contributing to local initiatives is possibly appealing in its own right.

 At the same time, it’s a little bittersweet to think that the wealth of knowledge and experience I’ve built in light rail from all over the world might go untapped. I’ve always been passionate about mentoring and sharing insights, and it’s hard not to feel that some of that could be lost. But at the end of the day, we have to make a living, and life is about balance. I’ve always believed in working to live, not living to work, and this new chapter is a chance to embody that philosophy more fully. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a way to teach Gunner about Tram driving.

Looking Ahead

Returning to the UK has been a profound experience—one filled with reflection, gratitude, and a fair share of uncertainty. While I’ll always cherish my years in the Middle East and the incredible opportunities they brought, I’m excited to embrace this slower, more intentional way of life. It’s easy to forget what we have in this beautiful country if we stop looking for it and only concentrate on the negatives.

The journey ahead might not include railways, but that’s okay. Sometimes, stepping off the tracks leads you to the most unexpected and rewarding destinations. For now, I’m ready to embrace the unknown and see where this new adventure takes me—whether it’s a fresh career path, a deeper connection to my surroundings, or simply more time to enjoy the beauty of this incredible place I now call home.

Remembering Augie

While this move has brought many new beginnings, it’s also come with its share of goodbyes. One of the hardest parts of this transition was losing Augie, Our beloved bulldog. At 10 years old, he had been a constant companion through the highs and lows of life in the Middle East and Birmingham, always by our side with his trademark snorts and unshakeable loyalty. Augie’s age caught up with him just as we were preparing to move to Cumbria, and while it was heartbreaking to say goodbye, we take comfort in knowing he lived a long, full life.

The house feels a little quieter without him and his snoring, but his memory lives on in every wag of Gunner’s tail and every peaceful moment spent in the countryside. Augie taught me a lot about resilience, being stubborn, unconditional love, and the simple joys of a good nap in the sun—lessons I’ll carry with me as I navigate this new chapter.