Guest Post by Marie-Paule Graham: Why Would a Brit Leave Britain?

It's a question I get asked a lot, at weddings, parties and randomly as I try to make my way through speaking exercises in language class. Why did you come here? Will you go back? Why not?

Why did I come here? Love, is the simple answer. The more complex answer is probably better addressed with a question: why would you ask the love of your life to move to a country that is falling apart; a country that is the most surveilled nation on Earth, where the economy is stagnant, at best, and that infuriating phrase "I'm sorry for any inconvenience caused" is the answer to every problem. 

Baffled faces stare back at me as I talk about the reality of living in Britain. "But, when I stayed with my host family it was great." is one reply. Of course it was, you were a guest and everyone was on their best behaviour. Visiting a place and living there are two very different propositions. A visit is finite and often enjoyed with that holiday feeling. The visitor often leaves before culture shock kicks in. The resident stays and lives through their culture shock, allowing themselves to become a part of the fabric of their new home.

“But Britain is a great democracy and you've got the BBC!” is another answer. Democracies don't spy on their citizens, they don't extradite them to foreign countries and as for the BBC, google the name Jimmy Savile.

And then there are the middle aged British expat women whose expressions turn to mild horror when I say that I live in Chemnitz.

Chemnitz has always had a rough deal. The first DDR leader Walther Ulbricht changed the city's name to Karl-Marx-Stadt and made it the model of Communist industrial ideals, i.e. dirty, grey and unimaginative. They even concreted over the river Chemnitz to obliterate anything that spoke of a life before Socialism. In April 1990 the people of Karl-Marx-Stadt voted to reinstate the city's original name and today the river is being restored to its original path through the centre of the city. 

Like all cities Chemnitz has beautiful parts and less desirable parts; there is commerce and there are areas of post-industrial emptiness. In Britain I couldn't leave the house without my iPod and headphones to drown out the constant cacophony of life on a crowded island. Here, I can walk through the city without headphones if I want to and, standing in the main square on days when the market isn't there, I can hear the sound of shoes on cobblestone and church bells. I also walk upright because I know I am not under constant surveillance. I can ride my bike on the roads here without fear of losing life or limb at the hands of needlessly aggressive drivers - something I never felt happy doing in Britain. Riding for 40 minutes in any direction will take you into the countryside. There is also an Olympic size swimming pool, while some towns in Britain don't have a pool at all. Prague and Berlin are two hours away and if I want to ski, the Erzgebirge (Ore Mountains, if you wish to be Tolkien about it) are 30 minutes away. Gangs of youths don't roam around with menace, in fact, young people will say hello to you. I was leaving my building laden with luggage one morning and sitting outside the front door were two teenage girls. Cue the sudden sense of foreboding I've been conditioned to feel at the sight of teenagers, but before I can finish my thought, one of the girls asks me if I needed any help. I had to hide me astonishment because teenage girls don't behave that way in Britain.

I watch the faces of these middle aged British expats as I recount the above and realise that, while the city I live in has made the best of itself since reunification, it's reputation hasn't changed. “Oh, it's so dreary”, says one lady in that withering manner I don't miss at all. No, places without employment are dreary, where everyone is scared of everyone else and people would rather seethe about foreigners taking their jobs than actually fix the problems that brought their country to its knees. 

So, why would a Brit leave Britain? Because there is love and peace and stability in this small corner of Saxony. Isn't that what everybody wants?

Marie-Paule Graham writes "Adventures in Waldiland" [waldiland.blogspot.de] and tweets @mpg4.

"My Country - Right Or Wrong" - Is Criticism good or bad?

Recently, an article by a German expat in New Zealand was brought to my attention. The author pointed out that New Zealanders weren't keen to deal with any form of criticism of their country. "Thin-skinned" was the way she described it.

This triggered off reminiscences of my time in Scotland. Any form of less than over-the top enthusiasm was met with resentful, defensive silence. And you really had to pile it on. If you failed to use words like "best ever", "world-class", "tops" you were a marked person. (Talk about British understatement...!)

This is all fine, if it's about being polite. Of course no sane person goes round telling other people what a shit-hole they live in. Of course I toed the line, talking about the splendid weather (wasn't), really tasty food (wasn't) beeaauti-ful countryside (have never been).

And yet, and yet. Isn't criticism a force of good? Should it not be encouraged? Especially from outsiders, especially in a country like New Zealand which might otherwise be in danger of  "im eigenen Saft schmoren". Ehem, I hope this wasn't too critical - take it as feedback!)

Wise, forward-thinking companies encourage their employees to notice things that need improving, find out where processes can be changed for the better. Lemming-like behaviour, head-down, nose to the grindstone... all these things struck me as old-fashioned, and vaguely totalitarian. I mainly grew up in countries - Holland and Germany - where criticism is encouraged from an early age on, and is seen as a mark of respect of the community you live in. It means you're interested in what's going on, you take a stance, you care, you're an active citizen. Not being critical in Holland would be seen as a sign of having dumbed-down, of being switched off, and ultimately a way to side-line yourself.

I agree of course that criticism has to be constructive, and cannot zoom in on fundamentals - like the weather in Scotland which can hardly be changed. But even here, I'd say a degree of realism would be infinitely preferable than the weird buil-up of societal pressure. Why should it not be possible in Scotland to say "Agreed, we haven't got the best weather but then again, that's why everything is so green and lush here". It would be realistic and honest. And infinitely preferable to the peevish, tight-lipped reaction which to the casual observer from outside indicates nothing more than an inferiority complex.

Personally, I find the pressure of permanent compliance with the staus quo, always asserting that you're 100% behind the mainstream, "Yes it's grrreat!, Love it! So excited! Super"...." tedious in the extreme. And no, I won't deliver.

I would still offer cookery-classes in Scotland and encourage New Zealanders to get out of their country more, and get a different perspective. No hard feelings, mate!

You?

The Expat Dilemma

I haven't written seriously about Expat Life for a while. (Only a little humorous post!)  The reason being that the topic is firmly in the hands of people or companies I find extremely dodgy - and therefore the whole  area becomes tainted for me. It's either handled by people who live about 30,000 miles from the next border and want to "coach" you to become a "Thought Leader"- for a $$-price naturally. Or by an offshore company who's ultimate aim is to convince you that "now is a good time to buy in Greece". So I kept shtum as I find these sort of bed-fellows very disagreeable.

HOWEVER (you guessed it...) The expat situation deserves a bit of non-commercial, unbiased scrutiny (and help if possible.) I'll concentrate on the situation I'm most familar with:  Let's take a British woman living an expat-life in Germany. Her situation will at first glance be quite enviable. On average, she will be well-off, have a job, live in a nice area, in a nice flat. Mostly, however, she will be renting. Simply because everybody does in Germany.

Say now, she's feeling a bit homesick - or wondering how to shape her future long-term. Going back to Britain? That would be very very difficult. Given that you have no property assets, you would have to start from afresh on the UK property-"ladder". Older than the average British first-time buyer, you would therefore have to be willing to start out buying an over-priced small flat in a dodgy area, and be financially, and lifestlye-wise an awful lot worse off than you were in Germany, renting.

Secondly, salaries are an awful lot higher in Germany than in the UK. There, you absolutely need a double-income to survive. Which, for the expat means her partner has to be willing and able to relocate back to Britain. Again, not at all easy - given language, job etc. constrictions!

If our female expat is planning to have a child in the near or distant future, again, things will have to be thought through carefully - in Germany you're looking at 12 months maternity leave at 80% of your salary. A perk you might not be willing to give up in a hurry.

And so it goes on - almost every area of life can easily turn out to be full of pitfalls that are difficult to computate. (And whilst this may generally be the case, as an expat you are just so much more aware of risks and consequences!)

I know from experience that being an expat isn't easy - hardly surprising, you may say - but I wanted to point out that it isn't just the usual moans and aches - language, food, carpets in the bathroom etc - but very concrete considerations that make you almost believe in the old saying "You Can't Go Home Again".

The British Expat in Germany - A Caricature

If you're asking me like that - yeah, course I miss Lowestoft, I mean who wouldn't. But Germany pays the bills - get my drift?

Mostly, I just speak English with them. But yeah, my German is pretty good

"Eynah Tassah Tay bittah!"

Talking of which - you can't get a decent cuppa here - not like home, like!

Germans have no sense of humour. None. I got this great act where I goose-step through the office, right arm stretched out. But nobody laughs. Ever. Dig that!

They don't have ticket barriers here on the underground. So - obviously you save a lot of money. If a ticket inspector comes round, I just play dumb and say I'm a British tourist. Works every time!

I do a bit of freelancing for the Guardian. Easy: Either I say "Eurozone- Only 10 days left", or I get the neighbour's kid to hold up a Hitler picture. They love it. Mind you, they don't pay.

The Germans don't have proper pubs. Nothing like Friday night in Lowestoft. The whole gang - Tyson, DavyB, Beamer, Vomit and me, yeah! Get the boys over here soon, that'll be fun!

German supermarkets are crap. All fruit 'n stuff. Nothing decent. Mushy peas? Forgeddit!Not even something as basic as spaghetti in a tin. I mean, that's everyday food. But no - zilch.

I'll qualify for unemployment benefit, yup - done my year's work soon. Can't wait! Get my tax back innit, only fair!

When I go back to Lowestoft, I go by train. Just hide in the loos, so they don't spot you. And then I've got them ferry vouchers from the Daily Mail. Cheaper than Ryan Air anytime!

They've got those honesty boxes here. What's that mean you ask. It means a free newspaper for me every day, that's what it means!

Everything's on time here. Trains, boss, colleagues. Me? Naah, I'm not so anal.

Going back? Are you insane, man?