Since I began my travels several decades back, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to reside in three distinct countries. The first two experiences were enjoyable, yet they didn’t endure. Living in Mexico, however, has been a joy, even if many people fail to understand it.
During my time in these various locations, the people, cuisine, sounds, and aromas varied greatly. What didn’t change were the inquiries from those I knew back home, particularly the most frequently asked one:
So…what made you choose to move there?
It’s become so routine that I could easily record a message on my phone to replay when asked. The question remains consistent, although the reasoning behind it can differ. Some find it challenging to pose this simple inquiry as a replacement for what they’re truly thinking.
Sometimes, it’s simply a well-traveled individual asking what attracted me to Guanajuato—why that specific place among countless options? They’re not focused on my departure from my country of origin but are curious about how I chose my new home. For those with a nomadic lifestyle, they’re always in search of recommended new destinations.
More frequently, it’s a puzzled individual from my home country attempting to articulate the turmoil in their mind while avoiding rudeness. Why would you intentionally leave the USA (or Canada) to move to a less developed nation? Why bring your child along? Why downgrade to a less “civilized” area? Is there something you’re escaping from?
I calmly follow the script explaining how affordably we live, the reduced stress, the chance to spend more time with loved ones, the opportunity to embrace life more fully, and the fact that we don’t require a car in this city where most streets are pedestrian-only.
My daughter has become bilingual, providing her with a significant advantage in life. I can now at least manage in a second language. We reside in a city with buildings older than Jamestown or Boston.
Those are merely the straightforward responses. I could delve into more elaborate or poetic explanations if they truly cared.
But they don’t.
It’s a futile endeavor that’s essentially just a manner of polite small talk, and I know it won’t alter their perceptions or quiet the inner voices. Their eyes begin to glaze over by the second sentence, as if to say, “Does…not…compute.”
Relocating to another country without being retired and without a job or family obligation is simply, well, crazy! Even if the weather is nearly perfect year-round and this is the view I might see out my window after some occasional rain:
In Mexico, I lead a healthier, wealthier, and happier life in a less stressful environment where competition is not the driving force. In a place where people work to enjoy life, not the opposite. However, I do not anticipate everyone to accept my perspective. Many have been conditioned too strongly to recognize a different reality than their own.
Someone has told them they reside in the greatest country globally, and they bought into it without needing to experience anywhere else. Some even think they’re part of a normal healthcare system. Much like North Koreans who are informed by state media that everyone shares their poverty, many Americans believe that the dreadful medical bureaucracy and profit-driven system they contend with is standard worldwide, not an anomaly.
Living Abroad is Not for Everyone
It’s perfectly fine if people from my home country view me as insane. I understand. They simply don’t know any better.
There may be millions of us Americans and Canadians living abroad, potentially more if we include digital nomads, but that represents a minuscule portion of the total population. When we establish ourselves in places that most cannot locate on a map, we encounter dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of others similar to us. We witness expat families raising children who turn out just fine. People like me maintain the same job they had in the USA, just plugging their laptop into a different outlet.
Thus, it begins to feel normal for us. But in reality, we are a small minority. We may number the population of Connecticut, but that state’s population is less than the number of yee-haws just in Houston. For now, at least, we remain a fringe movement.
I’m quite content with being on the fringe. I work for myself and take time off whenever I wish. Unless my family is reaching out, I never feel a pressing need to check my smartphone. I have no boss to report to and no time clock to punch. I’m Antifragile.
Let those following someone else’s rules worry about their stress.