War has ravaged the Middle East for 43 days, but the damage could take years to repair.
Kristalina Georgieva, the director of the International Monetary Fund, said the impact of the Iran war is already “baked” into the economy on CBS News’ “Face the Nation ” on Sunday.
She tallied the conflict’s hits to energy: sitting tankers that can’t move to their destinations, dozens of energy infrastructure sites hit across the Gulf, and missile and drone attacks on Qatari gas fields that will take years to repair.
“We are going to see some drag of this crisis over the year, but if we have peace, of course, conditions are likely to improve faster,” she said.
The prospect of peace looked promising on Tuesday evening, as President Donald Trump announced a two-week ceasefire deal with Iran. The deal marked a turning point and eased investor fears of a prolonged conflict that could drive oil prices higher, fuel inflation, and push the US toward a recession.
The immediate reaction from investors was relief. On Tuesday, stocks climbed, while bond yields and oil prices fell. Both Brent crude and US oil dropped. Brent crude settled at $94.50 a barrel, while West Texas Intermediate closed at $95.98.
But by Sunday, negotiations fell through, and Trump announced a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz — a crucial shipping channel. Oil prices topped $100 a barrel when the markets reopened at 6 p.m. in New York.
“Effective immediately, the United States Navy, the Finest in the World, will begin the process of BLOCKADING any and all Ships trying to enter, or leave, the Strait of Hormuz,” he said in a post on Truth Social on Sunday.
The ongoing conflict has driven up gas prices, which reached an average of $4 a gallon on March 31.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kat Smith, 35, who has lived abroad since 2015. Smith, the founder of Away Abroad, a website for female travelers, currently lives in Trieste, Italy, with her husband. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
I think people don’t always believe me when I say it, but living abroad has always felt more fun to me. I love the cultural challenges, the language barrier, the different food, and the process of figuring out the day-to-day.
I’m originally from Conyers, a small town just outside Atlanta. In high school, I moved to Athens, Georgia. It was a typical small, suburban place — there weren’t many people traveling internationally. Certainly, no one was moving abroad the way I eventually did.
When I was 18, between graduating from high school and starting at the University of Georgia, my parents basically forced a gap semester on me. They came home from a dinner party one night and were like, “Instead of going to college, you’re going to Guatemala.”
I did not want to go, but hindsight is 20/20.
Going to Guatemala was the best thing that could have happened to me. While I was there, I met a Peace Corps volunteer. Spending time with them and being in the country changed my perception of the world and opened my eyes to what was even possible.
When I got back and started university, I met with an advisor who had also served in the Peace Corps. After talking with him more, it just felt like the right path for me.
Living abroad changed me as a person
In 2013, almost exactly a month after I graduated from university, I joined the Peace Corps and left the US for Ecuador.
At the time I applied, you didn’t really have much say in where you went. I basically said, “Send me anywhere in the world,” and they sent me to Ecuador. During training, they placed me in a community based on my skill set and the community’s needs.
I ended up in Tumbaco for 3 months for training and then in Arenillas, a really small town in the southwestern province of El Oro, where I lived for about two years.
When my service ended, a friend of mine and I hitchhiked through the Peruvian Amazon and ended up working at an eco-lodge in the middle of the rainforest for a few months.
Smith’s boat ride on the Amazon River.
Courtesy of Kat Smith
Around that time, in 2015, my dad was like, “Okay, you haven’t been home in almost three years. I’m buying you a ticket—you’re coming to visit.” So, begrudgingly, I went back to the US.
I remember feeling reverse culture shock more intensely than I ever felt culture shock. It completely caught me off guard. All of a sudden, the US didn’t feel like home anymore. I felt like I didn’t fit in.
I also knew I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I’d left, which created an internal conflict. I don’t want to be that dramatic, but I had a different mindset, and trying to be the old me was hard.
I’ve traveled and lived all around the world
Over the years, I’ve lived in Panama City, been to Colombia, worked on a yacht in the South of France, and backpacked through Eastern Europe for a couple of months. I also backpacked between Vietnam and Thailand, and taught English in South Korea.
Smith and her husband, Rafael Tudela, in Cartagena, Colombia.
Courtesy of Kat Smith
Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I fell in love and got married in Colombia in 2018. Not long after, my husband and I moved to Vietnam, where we stayed for three years while I was teaching English, before leaving in 2021 because of COVID restrictions.
After Vietnam, we went back to the US for a while. We bought a van, converted it, and traveled up and down the West Coast. I loved nature, but after a few months, I was ready to leave again.
Smith inside of the van she traveled with across the West Coast.
Courtesy of Kat Smith
So we tried Albania next. We stayed for a couple of months, but it didn’t feel like the right long-term fit. Instead, we kept moving and spent time around the Balkans — traveling through Montenegro, Serbia, Bosnia, and Croatia.
My journey hasn’t been perfect
Looking back, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way.
One of the things I cringe about most is how I treated my friends and family back home. I was pretty insensitive about their choices — friends who just wanted to graduate, buy a house 10 minutes from where they grew up, and settle into a typical, structured, no-surprises kind of life. I think I judged that because I felt like what I was doing was so extravagant.
But honestly, I was a bit of a brat about accepting other people’s paths.
I did something similar with my family, too. I didn’t really consider what it meant for them when I left. I was so focused on what it meant for me, and not necessarily on how it was affecting everyone around me.
Smith and friends exploring a neighborhood in Seoul.
Courtesy of Kat Smith
Italy is home — for now
In 2023, we moved to Italy for a job opportunity for my husband. He has an EU Blue Card — basically a work permit for skilled workers — and I’m on a family reunification visa linked to his.
We’ve been living in Trieste for the past 2.5 years. Trieste is fantastic, but it’s also an up-and-coming city that’s gotten really expensive, fast. Even in the short time we’ve been here, we’ve seen a big jump in costs. Our rent, for example, increased by $308 a month, which still feels crazy.
Our apartment is really nice: one bedroom, one bath, open floor plan, and close to everything. I’m really into nature, and we have a beautiful view of the sea and the hills. We were paying $1,423 a month, and now it’s $1,732.
The view from Smith’s apartment in Trieste.
Courtesy of Kat smith
That rising cost of living is one of the reasons we started looking at other places — just to get more for our money.
We ended up buying an apartment in Belluno for $260,955, and we’ll move in April. Belluno is a much smaller town, kind of a gateway to the Dolomites, and it sits north of Venice. We’re big mountain people, and the Dolomites are genuinely my happy place. Being closer to them means we can hike and snowboard more regularly without a long drive, which was a huge perk for us.
Although we didn’t choose Italy initially and only moved here for my husband’s job, there are a lot of reasons we’ve chosen to stay rather than move on like we typically do after a few years.
Italy has a strategic geographic position. I love living smack dab in the middle of the world. Not only is this exciting adventure-wise, but it’s also meant more people have been able to visit us, including our parents, who aren’t as keen on the long-haul flights.
Smith and her dog on a hike in Montenegro.
Courtesy of Kat Smith
On top of that, the culture clicks for both of us. As an intercultural couple, we have different triggers, things we look for, and things we want to avoid. Northern Italy has provided the perfect balance for us.
I really hope Italy can be our home base, at least for the foreseeable future. But I also know myself: If, two years from now, it doesn’t feel right, we’ll pivot. I’m not setting a deadline; it’s more about whether it still feels like home. And right now, it does.
When I was in my early 30s, I went for a three-week holiday to my home in Sydney and never left.
For years, I had toyed with the idea of moving back home, a place I had not lived since I was 7 years old. I’d even made a couple of attempts at it, but the comfortable pull of family and more than 25 years of life in the US always lured me back.
When extending my trip week by week turned into deciding to stay, I assumed slotting back into life in Australia would be the easiest move of my life. After all, I was used to adjusting to a new environment. My father’s job in the film industry meant I spent my childhood moving frequently (13 different schools in multiple cities and countries).
Surely moving back home would feel as comforting as slipping on a well-worn, much-loved cardigan. I was wrong.
The unexpected culture shock of coming home
I never thought I would experience culture shock moving back to Australia, but that was exactly what happened. All my years overseas meant I had missed large parts of general knowledge, I didn’t understand cultural references or sayings, and I found Australian politics completely befuddling.
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Although I still sounded Australian, a quick conversation, which inexplicably always started with “where did you go to high school?” quickly established I was not from here. After being viewed as a foreigner my whole life in the US, I was now viewed as a foreigner in Australia, too.
What’s more, I realized with surprise that I was culturally very American. All the things I had taken for granted in the US (convenience, customer service, and affordability) just didn’t exist in Australia.
I had to do some life adjustments
There were the daily frustrations of not being able to get a coffee past 3 p.m. (or before 7 a.m.), no salad bars or real Mexican food, and the expense of absolutely everything (Sydney is Australia’s most expensive city).
Cultural norms were an even bigger adjustment. Handshakes for acquaintances and bear hugs for friends (standard etiquette in the US) were replaced with one or two kisses to the side of (not on) the cheek.
Making friends with Sydney-siders felt hard, so I initially gravitated toward foreigners who were generally open and friendly. When I’d meet Americans, I felt an innate level of comfort and familiarity unlike anything else.
I had expected it to be easy to move back
In my first year back home, I thought a lot about the phrase “you can never go home again.” I’d always been pretty dismissive of it, believing I could return to Australia at any time and it would feel like home. Finally, I came to understand the truth in the phrase. We just can’t return to a previous place or point in life and recapture our original experience.
Just like I adjusted to the culture shock of moving to the US as a little girl (hello, mayo on sandwiches, ice in water, and excessive air conditioning), I needed to acclimatize to Australia. I had been making the move so much harder than it needed to be because I expected it to be easy and familiar.
As I started to let go of the expectation that I’d fit right in, I started to feel more at home, back home. I built up experiences and connections that grounded me, and as I got older, my American background became less noticeable and less relevant. It’s taken a long time, but I now feel entirely at home here. In the end, the key was to start from scratch and get to know my hometown as an adult, rediscovering my Australian identity along the way.
