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It seems that the longer expats stick around the developing countries they choose as a second home, the more irritated they get.
Things are a little different in Mexico than in, say, the U.S or Europe. Here, the gas truck blares its jingle out of a gigantic static-y loudspeaker every morning; here, the term “ahorita” (right now) refers to an occasion 3-6 hours down the road (or maybe mañana).
It may seem pathetically obvious that yes, when one lives in Mexico, things—like time and noise and customer service—are a little different. But believe me, the longer the expat is away from home, the more shocking and abrasive this concept is. It’s a travel paradox.
You see, a pattern I’ve noticed with expats – and I’m referring here to expats who’ve chosen to settle in developing countries – is that the longer they actually live overseas, the more the differences get to them, until expats start referring to the locals with a condescending “they” as if they were an alien race that had somehow invaded the streets of the quaint, pretty little Mexican town or the upscale Beijing neighborhood where these expats had previously lived in much deserved tranquility.
I am terrified of becoming one of these they-sayers. It is a very easy trap to fall into. I think the longer expats stick around a place like Mexico, the more a sense of entitlement starts to creep over them (ok, fine, I’m including myself in the “them”) and the more they start to feel indignant if they’re not greeted with a smile and served their coffee within the allotted corporate three minute time slot.
This is scary for the following reasons:
A) because it reeks of imperialism
B) because it makes expats into hypocritical assholes
Why do many expats move to developing countries? I think for many, the answer is one of the following:
a) I’m tired of capitalist-consumer U.S workaholic culture
b) I want something more “real”: all sorts of problematic ideologies behind this but hey, I can identify with it. Some sort of relationship with people that feels more natural than, “And would you like a blueberry nut bar with that, sir?”
c) I like colorful walls/coffee/the laid-back pace of life/the challenge of another culture/the insanity of a big foreign city/the freedom to enjoy things like blue sky and learning another language and a sense of community
d) I want to be more aware of everything around me and want that jolt of travel and excitement that comes from sipping a 10 peso beer in a darkened Mexican cantina on Friday afternoon
e) Life where I’m from is boring, is a given, is simply too routine, and/or I don’t fit in
Great. So a second home abroad gives one or all of these experiences to expats, and also – many times – gives them an incredibly reduced cost of living and the freedom, in my case, to live as a starving artist without quite starving and with the ability to even afford a whole liter (!) jug of Corona from time to time. Cool.
So why all the bitching? And why does it increase the longer one is away from home, when one should supposedly, be increasingly tolerant of cultural differences?
I remember a fellow teacher at the language school where I taught in Oaxaca going on a rampage about a BranFruit bar. BranFruit bars, for your information, are nasty, mangy little turds of granola bars cemented together with neon-colored “jam.” They are mass-produced by Bimbo, your friendly neighborhood junk food corporation. Why in the world it occurred to this girl that BranFruits would be a healthy local breakfast, I don’t know. Is Mexico known for specializing in fibrous granola bars? No.
But these are the kinds of things that, after awhile, get to expats. She was ranting and raving about how unhealthy the food was here and how they couldn’t even make a frickin’ granola bar right. And the thing was, I sympathized with her. I was irritated because people walk veerrrrrrryyyy slowly and I walk with the rapid, every-second-of-my-day-is-filled-with-purpose stride of the Busy American. I’d zoomed around who knows how many meandering grandmas and school kids on my way to work (after leaving home, as usual, with exactly 16 minutes for a 30 minute walk.)
So I could identify with the BranFruit rage. But at the same time identify it as disturbing. This is my Number One Fear as an expat: the creeping sense of entitlement, the outrage, the sense of being offended by the very same things—cultural differences—that caused me to come here in the first place.
Of course, I should insert a disclaimer here saying that some things, of course, merit complaining—serious racial or sexual discrimination, being harmed or mugged, being manipulated or taken advantage of… But I think the average expat has the intellectual capacity to distinguish between basic cultural differences and these other, more individual or wider societal issues.
So what is an expat like myself, worried about falling prey to the expat conundrum, to do? Remember why I came in the first place—because I can spend Saturday afternoons playing Scrabble in old railway stations surrounded by palm trees, because I like the way “ay, cabron!!” can have ten different meanings, because people are honest and funny and straightforward and because really, there is nothing better than a sizzling clay pot of chilaquiles after a long night on the town.
Community Connection
Is travel really just consumption, anyway? Add your thoughts at Travel Torture: Personal Implications of Cultural Consumption. Are you an expat with animosity towards tourists? Take a look at Tourists, Expats, and That Fragile Sense of Belonging. Seasoned expat? Do you know the six characters you’ll meet at every expat bar?
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23 Comments... join the discussion!
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Brilliant, hilarious piece. I’ve never been an expat, so I can’t really contribute to the dialogue here, but I enjoyed reading this and wanted to give some props. Rock on.
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I am living and studying in Medellín, Colombia and I am absolutely in love with it. The only complaint I have is that I wish I had more time to travel amongst the mountains surrounding the city and I wish that the city had a better rock climbing gym. Other than that, I am seriously trying my hardest to find a job that requires travel & pays decently and allows me to continue living in Colombia. I love my home town of Orlando, Florida, U.S.A. but life in Medellín is a lot less stressful and easier to get around than the place where I grew up. In conclusion, why should I complain in a place where I have a good job for my simple lifestyle, I can actually afford a good education, I have medical insurance here and there are mountains everywhere for me to climb?
However, I lived in Quito, Ecuador when I was 19 years old and I hated it; I complained all of the time. It happens to the best of us but the best part about being nomadic is that we can always leave.
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I think its just fact that the longer you stay in a country, the more negative things you tend to notice. It sounds pretty cynical, but I think its true. I’ve noticed over the years, that my shorter trips usually have universal happy memories, but my longer trips where I’ve really gotten to know the culture and the people are the ones where I’ve also had to struggle with the local culture and customs. However, I feel that on my longer trips, I’ve learned more. I think it comes down to accepting that each location has advantages and disadvantages to living there. People who move to another country to avoid their problems or in the hope that “everything will be perfect there” are just fooling themselves. I have a feeling those people that were complaining about the granola bars found something equally trivial to complain about state-side.
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Great piece, and so true. I agree with Christine – it is the western way – we’re never happy, always searching for the next best thing…
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Hey Sarah, open and honest piece. One question: why are you rushing to work? As you said, “ahorita” can mean 3 hours or even manana?
I think as travelers we might be especially susceptible to this phenomenon because by nature we are always itching for change. Once the honeymoon of this change wears off and we fall into routine, day-to-day life, maybe we start seeing things in a different light again.
I guess if this happens, it’s either time to take stock again, or move on!
@Christine, thanks for the link. FYI, the little project is on hold, but I do intend to give it another go!
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I agree with Christine; I think compaining is part of our culture. And I agree with Carlos that some of the “honeymoon” factor wears off. All of this combined makes for a proclivity towards bitching!
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When expats start the Ugly American scene it’s time for a trip home and an attitude adjustment. The only thing is that the people that do this kind of thing do it where ever they are, at home or abroad. Complainers are complainers. The bran fruit bar girl? She’s going to be the same no matter where she is.
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Great article! I’ve been through this; the moaning, the hating myself for moaning and the coming out the other side.
However, from a hippy ‘finding yourself’ perspective, I believe it’s one of the most vital parts of living abroad. As someone once said ‘the wise traveller never hates his own country’, but maybe many of us start out that way.
Now whenever I don’t like something about where I’m living, I see the flip side of that. It means it’s something that I do like about England.
Waiting to be served for 3 hours in the bank here in Chile and moaning about it means I like only having to wait for 5 minutes in England. Nobody giving up their seat on the bus for a old lady in Spain means I appreciate the fact that people do it back home. Missing decent curry reminds me to appreciate the food I love here and so on.
So I suppose I’m saying, we need to learn from our whinging but try to keep a lid on it at the same time.
And Sarah, I am so with you on the slow walkers. I like swinging my arms and getting my heart rate up and make no apologies for it. Join the Facebook group ‘I want to punch slow-walking people in the back of the head’. It’ll make you feel so much better…!
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I think if you look at many long-term expats the reason is obvious: They are misfts and can’t fit into any culture. I once heard a theory that ESL teachers fell into three categories: Misfits, Mercenaries, or Missionaries. I think that holds true for expats too.
I “live among” expats and loathe socializing with them. They bitch for the sake of bitching. They would bitch in their native countries about politics, imagined slights, or their boss. In developing nations they bitch about the locals, the noise, the food, etc.
You could hand many of these misfit expats 5 million USDs – and they would bitch about the denominations of the bills.
I have been an expat 5 years and have never used the term “they.” Unfortunately, many of my fellow expats do.
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I’m not sure that using “they” or “them” to make pretty harsh generalizations about your fellow expats is that much better than using it to refer to the locals…
“I “live among” expats and loathe socializing with them. They bitch for the sake of bitching. They would bitch in their native countries about politics, imagined slights, or their boss. In developing nations they bitch about the locals, the noise, the food, etc.”
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“Homesickness for the great city is keener than any other nostalgia. Home is for
him any one of these giant cities, but even the nearest village is alien territory.
He would sooner die upon the pavement than go ‘back’ to the land. Even
disgust at this pretentiousness, weariness of the thousand-hued glitter, the
taedium vitae that in the end overcomes many, does not set them free. They take
the City with them into the mountains or on the sea. They have lost the
country within themselves and will never regain it outside.”↵ -
it is human nature to complain. expats complains about things not being up to standard or whatever in the country of residence and yet when they make a trip home they complain about everything at home in relation to country of residence.
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Great post, Sarah. I think, if we’re being honest, we’ve probably all been the BranFruit girl at one time or another. I certainly went through this process living in England, and you wouldn’t think the England-Canada culture gap would be all that large, would you? (Ha!) I think all you can do is keep the feelings in perspective and consciously focus on the positives. The frustrations are natural, but we don’t have to let them take hold of us completely – or at least not all the time…
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Nice one, Sarah.
I was always on about food in Japan. Not that I didn’t love all the Japanese food I ate to death. I just really missed the variety. No real Italian. No French. No greasy Chili’s burgers. No DR. PEPPER – the horror!
But mostly, I kept these things to myself even when I was at expat gatherings, not wanting to appear to be the douchy American whiner.
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No one drinks Dr. Pepper, do they?
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Expatriate in Developing Country + Excessive Bitching = Exploitriate
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I would sell my own grandmother for a Diet Dr Pepper right now and I’m not even American.
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So very true!
I play this little game. I try to figure out how long an expat has been in their new country by the way they talk. If they’re all moon-eyed and gushing, i say 3 months. If they’re desperately homesick, that’s about 6 months to a year. At 2-3 yrs, they (we?) are angry and frustrated.
After that, it all depends.
I’ve most definitely been through the first two stages. I’m hoping to avoid the third.
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Maybe people think after a few months in another country they have walked the proverbial mile and are now entitled to complain, who knows. All I know is that I have good days and bad days and I’ve seen it from both sides, as an expat and also a person who works with expats in various countries. I do think it’s important for expats to get together without locals now and then for a glass of wine or dinner and not to feel too guilty at a little complaining. Let’s be real, nobody’s perfect as much as we’d like to be. And if you have a constructive outlet for expressing the frustrations of living in a different way than you are accustomed to, it saves you needlessly taking it out on innocent locals. Hmmm, but then I’ve seen short-term travellers complaining too. Maybe we all just need to learn to step back and take a breath before reacting. Easier said than done?
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I think I sometimes fall into this trap, but I don’t think it’s a sense of entitlement or anything else. When you first land in a new, developing country, the differences are “exciting” and “new”. At first, I like the overall simplicity of life. It moves at a different pace, and I feel more content with what I have. However, over time, those differences lose their “newness”, and I start to miss the little things I always take for granted at home. Eating potatoes (for example) for the 500th time starts to get nauseating, and the grayness (I’m usually in Eastern Europe) starts to get depressing. Oh well, I always complained about my home growing up. After a 7 month stint overseas, home has looked pretty darn good for the last couple of weeks. I’m sure that will soon wane, as well
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I lived in China for a couple of years, and it was almost a given that any get-together with other foreigners would turn into a bitch session. And I’d always leave with more things to be frustrated about than had ever occurred to me on my own.
The bitching was especially severe among those of us who didn’t have access to many other foreigners where we lived. I was one of 2 foreigners in a city of 600,000. When we’d get together w/ others, like in our province capital, it was bitch-o-rama.
If I were to do the expat thing again, I’d probably try to resist adopting other expats’ complaints. But when you’re homesick, I think you naturally start making a tally of problems, kinda to justify your feelings of defeat. That’s an urge I’d also try to resist.
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