“Some of them go for the sailing
Brought by the lure of the sea
Tryin’ to find what is ailing
Living in the land of the free…”

-Jimmy Buffett – “Banana Republics”

OK, this post may permanently ruin my indie-rock credibility, but one can not control what iTunes spits at you when you give the software the power of choice. As I was trying to lull Z to sleep last evening, Jimmy Buffett’s ode to Americans on the run came drifting out of the speakers. While I’m ashamed to admit it, I must say I enjoyed it. I don’t listen to a lot of Buffett these days – doesn’t seem apt in blowing Blighty – but if there’s anyone out there who grew up in Florida in the 70’s or 80’s who is not, even if only deep down, at least a little bit of a Parrothead then you can cast the first stone.

Anyhow, this was one of those songs that took me on a little mental trip – sleep deprivation will do that to you – and got me thinking about my reasons for running from the Land of the Free (TM). I could be all righteously liberal and say that I left the States because of what the Bush Administration was doing my country. I could say that I heard one too many nutty right-wing pundits say “America – Love it or Leave It” and decided to take the latter option. I could say that I was sick and tired of the endless stripmalling of America and the dead downtowns and the Walmart takeover of everything retail.

I could say all of those things but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Fact of the matter is I left largely for love. Dr. O’Cs family was in Europe in 2003 when we made the decision to move over here and as humdrum and unmoralistic as that may be, it’s the real story. All of the things I could of said above played a part in my willingness to leave, but when it comes down to brass tacks I wanted to continue my love affair.

And I have never regretted that decision. Not just because I’m as happy as I could be with Dr. O’C and our new son Z (OK, not always thrilled with colic baby/demon Z) but because I’ve found things I didn’t know I was looking for as an expatriate.

Fact is, England was not my top choice for our new life in Europe (I wanted to go to Vienna or Paris). I have never been much of an anglophile – I’ve just always thought of England as being too similar to the States – just smaller and with older buildings. In many ways, and the English hate to hear this, it is. The English are car-obsessed and getting fatter and love shopping and eating in the American chains that are creeping round the world. The south of England is slowly getting suburbanized with green spaces and beautiful Victorian building under threat of being destroyed for Asdas (owned and operated by Wal-Mart).

But for all the similarities, I’ve learned to really like England for its differences for its very English-ness. I live in a beautiful city that, if you get up early enough, allows you top pretend that you’re living in the 16th century. I’ve learned to get along with the Englishmen – once you get past their veneer of reserve, they are witty, easy-going and good fun. I’ve learned to love English sports – rugby is great fun to watch and I kind of learned to play cricket (at least stand around in the field). But mostly it’s a quality of life thing. Britain is a haven for free-market capitalism, but still hangs on to enough social democracy to insure that her people have an opportunity to live a good life. Free, good quality health care is available to everyone. There are still great green spaces and walking (rambling) is a national obsession. I cycle to work and can get fresh food at a market in the city center.

Sometimes it’s tough being an American abroad. People often make a quick judgment as soon as you open your mouth especially if your accent still bears some evidence of a life spent largely south of the Mason-Dixon line. I do some volunteer charity work on a telephone helpline. I often get into a conversation with someone and midway through something like this occurs:

Them: “If you don’t mind my asking, are you Canadian?”
Me: “Nope, American.”
Them: (With obvious disappointment) “Oh, right, sorry…er…not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

And in a funny way, I feel like I deserve it. I’m not the self-loathing American expat. I’ve never pulled the “I’m a Canadian” bluff to make thing easier. Sometimes I’m filled with patriotic verve. It’s just that the cartoon character stereotype of the American tourist or politician is hard to deny. Every time I see an American tourist bitching about the price of a Big Mac (blame our government for the devaluation of the dollar not the poor McEmployee), every time that I see our president struggling through some ridiculous foreign policy speech on the BBC, I remember why people jump to judgment. Fair enough.

We’re nearing the end of our time in Oxford, probably won’t see out another “summer”. Chances are that we’ll be moving out of Britain entirely, but it won’t be “home” to the States. My three years as an expatriate has taught me that things in America are not all they’re cracked up to be in the advertisements. I’m keen to try the next place on our world tour – this one may turn out to be home.

While I’m on an expat riff I’d like to point folks to a great expat blog aggregator. If you enjoy this type of blog or are an expat blogger yourself check out expat-blog. There are a number of great blogs from all over the world of people out of their comfort zone. I found some of my favorite daily reads like The Vol Abroad, The Cheese Stands Alone, Lucid in Deutschland and A View from Abroad at this site.

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