December 2010 The Expat Telegraph published an article I had written called Thoroughly Modern Expats.
For a number of years following I was a regular monthly columist for them.
Reading through the original articles that I submitted recently, I was taken by a) how relevant many of them still are today, and b) I had no online record of them of my own.
So I have added the original submissions to this blog, so if you want to read more of them just search for telegrapharticles, and while you are at it you may want to search for expatarticles as well to see other columns I wrote in the past for various newspapers in Spain.
Some time ago I wrote a column for a English Language paper here in Spain called Just Because Your An Expat It Doesn’t Mean I Like You.
Got me in all sorts of trouble, primarily it appears because the vast amount of English speaking expats in Spain can’t read English!
The gist of the column was that to like someone is a positive action, i.e. you have to actively make the decision to form that opinion. On the other hand to not like someone doesn’t mean that you dislike them, just that you haven’t taken that positive step.
By way of examples I suggested that not all black people like all black people, that not all gay people like all gay people, that not all woman like all woman.
This wasn’t a Spanish expat ‘thing’ by any means. Years before when we spent time in Florida it seemed that every time we returned our American friends would be falling over themselves to introduce us to the latest British expats that they have met, on the basis that we were ‘bound to get on’. Exasperated one evening at having been told that we ‘must’ meet a couple because ‘they have a Harley as well’ I asked one such friend if they ‘got on’ with all their fellow American’s. Of course not they said, don’t be stupid, now come and meet this people ……….
I have used the term ‘friends’ above but in reality they were just people that I knew for a certain period of my life, as a rule enjoyed their company, would even admit to a certain level of fondness, but in no way were they really friends in the real term of the word.
Of course in this modern, social media driven world it is almost impossible to define what a friend is. On facebook I have 2,400+ friends, probably 50 of which I have ever met in the flesh. On twitter I have 42,000 or so, and have met even less of them. In their own way they fulfill part of the role of a friend: they listen to what I have to say (at times) for example, and keep me entertained at times when I do desire their company but do they know me? have we been through formative experiences together? have we laughed, cried, despaired, rejoiced and drowned our sorrows together? would they be there for me if I really needed them? how would we react together in times of adversity?
I have debated this long and hard over the years here in Spain with numerous expats, all of whom have been delighted at how quickly they had made such great friends after such a short period in the country. My view has always been that friends take years to create, and need to to be built on a foundation of varied activities and experiences. Personally I find it hard to conceive of ‘making friends’ as it smacks of something that you are trying to force, to construct out of desperation or need. Watching expats ‘make friends’ I am reminded of a cross between those first days of school when you make a pact to be friends and a speed dating event. Perhaps there is a reality TV show in there somewhere, combined perhaps with a return of El Dorado to the BBC?
For years now I have sat in the corner of my favourite bars, red wine to hand, watching the latest intake of expats get gobbled up by the established old timers. You have to hand it to them as they are past masters of procuring this ‘fresh meat’ for themselves, wringing an evening’s free booze in return for ‘showing the ropes’, and within hours a drunken swearing of life long friendship and the sharing of all financial, emotional and personal details has taken place.
More often than not my cynical view that ‘it won’t last’ has been proven right as a combination of excessive alcohol, realisation that they don’t have much in common, and the eventual dawning that the truth was somewhat exaggerated on initial meetings takes it toll and overnight best friendships become sullen acquaintances with little chance of avoiding each other in the magnified village lifestyle that so many expats live in.
Ironically the ongoing financial meltdown in Spain and the much reported exodus of expats back to the UK has brought some relief for these fractured friendships, while at the same time opening up the debate again, only this time my view is more extreme in that I now question if it is actually possible for expats to be friends. Do expats live in one place long enough to get to know people well enough? do expats experience enough variations to find out how people react in different circumstances, does the growth of the social media sites and the likes of Skype and the resultant ability to stay in touch with establish old friends (an option not readily available to expats in previous generations) remove the need for genuine friends?
Of course I may be wrong but amidst this exodus of expats back to the UK there done’t appear to be many waving them off at the airport and asking around after people that have returned it is rare to find anyone that keeps in touch. It should be said that it is a two way street though as meeting up with expats that have returned to the UK very rarely do they admit to keeping in touch with the expats that they left behind.
So where does that leave us? Facing a sad and lonely existence as expats or free to embrace the period of our life where we can do what we want, with who we want, when we want? And the irony? When I look back to the other periods when I was able to do the same what, when and who I ended up making the best friends that I still retain to this day. Not I suspect because I set out to ‘make’ friends but because they evolved over time, in a natural way, with no sense of panic or fear that life would pass me by.
Maybe that is a lesson for us all. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?
Please feel free to search on Google for the published versions of these columns.