Expatriate life in France

On 5 October 1992, I started my career at OECD in Paris. While the experience since then has been rich and interesting, occasionally wonderful, I can’t say that it has been easy. Somehow I managed to make it this far and, with mixed feelings, celebrated my 20th anniversary last Friday with a few colleagues at Le Mozart (Le Mozart being the pub of choice these days for OECD economists). After all these years in France, I am still not certain where we will settle. Long discussions with spouse, family and friends have proven inconclusive. Where will we find the optimal setting for the next phase of life: here? there? or perhaps neither here nor there?

Living internationally has brought rewarding experiences and personal growth, albeit accompanied by the stresses and strains of cross-cultural life, as well as various challenges at work and in daily life. It makes me want to celebrate “Life’s Rich Pageant“, in the words of Inspector Clouseau; that is, I would like to have access to the best bits of both my home and adopted cultures simultaneously, though without falling into the fountain as Clouseau did.

France has welcomed my family and the quality of life here has been quite high for us. Our kids got a solid education here in the public schools. I love our house and the forests surrounding our little town. The countryside is gorgeous and the food is wonderful. The list of pros — and, admittedly, a few cons — goes on and on. Judging by several best-sellers, such as Peter Mayle’s “A Year In Province”, recounting my personal experience in this regard could easily fill a book.

What to do for an encore?

Once a person has lived for a prolonged period in another culture, one’s horizons shift a bit. There is a good chance that whatever one does for an encore (stay or return home or move on to somewhere else), something will be missing from the next phase of life. And, during a prolonged absence from one’s native land, it too will have changed. A bit like the situation of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, pondering her return to Kansas: can one really go home again or will home now be a different place? Kids growing up in such multicultural  situations are sometimes called “third culture kids”, because they have hybrid roots in two or more countries. Their cultural perspectives extend beyond a traditional base. Together with other expatriate kids they share a culture that is neither wholly from here or there, but has elements from various international sources.

In truth, my reflections on expatriate life leave me a bit conflicted. Surely, if we return to the US, there will be things that we will miss from France. (Where to find a proper stinky cheese?) And, if we stay, some things will be things missing here. (Where to find a proper bagel?) Therein lies the rub. For me, the experience of living internationally has been a positive one on balance, but it is not without trade-offs. I am not alone in this sentiment. I’ve had the conversation many times as I meet folks around the world who are living internationally. This is a real hazard of expatriate life: having one foot here and one foot there, or perhaps both feet on shifting lands.

Ethiopian epilogue?

This week I found myself careening down the Dulles airport access road in a mini-van taxi driven by an Ethiopian immigrant. We were discussing what it was like to live outside of our homelands. With my bags sliding off the seat and jacket long since slipped onto the floor, he turned and said “I love this country. Here, in the US I am free to say what I want.” Among a long list of other injustices in Ethiopia, he was explaining to me the plight of journalists reporting there: two Swedish journalists wrongly incarcerated in Ethiopia were recently released, but a number of Ethiopian reporters are still being held. (The media rights group Reporters without Borders discusses the situation on their website.)

But as he spoke of his homeland, he grew a little wistful. He went on to tell me how Ethiopian expatriates often buy property back home, seeking to maintain ties. With a sense of longing, he explained that he is hoping the situation will permit him to visit next Spring. Though committed to his life in the US and grateful for the welcome he has had, he seemed to me a bit unsettled. He proudly told me that his son, having mastered English and Amharic (the main language of Ethiopia), is now learning Spanish. It seemed to me like the family might be caught between homes, and not quite at home, neither here nor there…

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more

Such stories are certainly not rare in the mobile, modern world. During the 1990s, I co-authored a study of the US labor market for the OECD. One factoid that struck me as remarkable: 25% of the US population moved more than 25 miles from home every 10 years. That pace has decreased somewhat with the housing finance crisis, but certainly many people are not where they used to be and some are cut off from their roots.  Dislocation is a common phenomenon in a globalized world with constant adjustment pressures and far-flung economic opportunities. And, this comes on top of more traditional drivers of dislocation such as strife.

Thank goodness that distance is now less of a definitive impediment to maintaining relationships. Back when I lived in Burkina Faso, a move away from home meant being cut off from real-time communications. Now thanks to services such as Skype, Microsoft Messenger or Apple Face Time staying in touch is less of a challenge. Still, it is not the same as being there.

For me, the question of what to do when I grow up and where to do it remains unresolved. A bit like Kurt Vonnegut’s Billy Pilgrim in Slaughterhouse Five, my geographic center has come unstuck in the space-time continuum. It is anchored by relationships that span vast distances, contexts and years, but it is no longer fixed to a specific place. But, maybe that is the point?  Perhaps the relationships are what matter most.