I’ve been told it’s difficult for many people to know when their life fell into place, but for me it happened all at once. Graduating in Chemistry, a subject I’d become increasingly indifferent to after four years of hard work, I walked out of the university bubble without the faintest idea what I’d do next. So I left.

Specifically, I got a job teaching English in Gangnam, the district of South Korean capital Seoul made famous by that awful viral song about its fashion-themed pretentiousness. I couldn’t have loved it more.

In my second week, I woke up with an entrenched soju hangover and decided a Buddhist temple’s introduction of Korean culture – tea and serene, grey-clad monks – might help shake it. I met my wife that day.

I started a blog to document my travels. The passion, clearly, shone through, and soon I had offers to write for large publications in my inbox. It had never occurred to me writing could be a career. Before long it was and courses, qualifications, and heaps of work on my grammar followed as I bedded in my new passion.

And it all just sat so well. From lost soul with a degree that just didn’t suit, everything suddenly felt right. Why Korea? A snap decision. Of all the teaching options before me, it was the bravest road; the place I knew least about.

My world changed in a month, and the same themes have run through it ever since. It’s funny how life happens while you’re trying to work out what to do with it.