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When we were 29, my husband Paul and I sold our home, had several yard sales, and bought two one-way tickets to Paris.  Everybody thought we’d lost it.  Among the comments: “You’ll be back!” “How are you going to support yourselves?  You don’t even have a JOB?” “Do they have hospitals over there?” “Do they have food—I mean, food you can eat?”

Madrid

A psychologist once told me: “When you leave, you’re upsetting the apple cart.  Everyone who’s lived their life in relation to you—as part of the definition of who they are—must now change to adjust to your absence. People don’t want to change, and so they’ll fight you on going.”

In our case, we had the latter problem—big time.  Paul and I are both the eldest children of large families.  We were deeply involved with the lives of other family members.  We had friends that we’d known virtually all our lives. 

The good news is that after twenty-five years as expatriates, we still have good relationships with our families.  We still are close to many of our old friends.  We miss them, and like to visit, and do go back to the States once a year.   But for us, living in the US—after so long living outside of it—just doesn’t work for us anymore.  In fact, when we visit we often go through a period of culture shock: everything seems to move so fast; everyone is in such a hurry.  There are so many choices. 

But therein lies the joy, as well.  Once you live outside the States, it’s fun to return for a visit and/or vacation—it makes a nice change.  Our annual pilgrimage north usually happens in summer.  Having lived in Spain for 15 years, and Panamá for 9, we like the warm weather.   Boston at Christmas is not warm.  We have difficulty acclimating to the cold. Also, everyone is harried and over-committed during the holidays.  Quality visits are a challenge.  Shopping is… fuhgetaboutit!
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Costa Rica

We usually spend the month of August in the States doing the things we used to love to do in the summer in New England: Picking blueberries, going up the North River for picnics; swimming; fishing; having a lobster bake.  We stay with family, but don’t recommend staying with anyone continuously for more than a week.  It’s simply better not to become too much of a burden and overstay your welcome.  After a week, I’ve also discovered, I tend to start getting sucked into the old family dramas—which is one reason I left in the first place!  Which brings me to my points about reasons for leaving—and making your home in a new country. If you’re really considering a permanent move, the following check list might be helpful: 1. Are you taking a geographical cure from someone or something?  If so, you might want to take a deeper look to see if you’re main motive for moving is to run away. Detaching with your feet may have its benefits (it did in my case), but if it’s 90% of the reason why you want to leave the country, it might not be enough to sustain you in the long run.

3. Income.  When Paul and I left the States, we had our skippers’ licenses, and a vague plan to travel the world working on yachts.  We had very little capital, but we were young and were willing to be flexible about where we lived, and what we’d do for work. We ended up in the yachting business in Spain—and became financially secure within a year of our leaving—but it wasn’t without it’s stressful moments.  Now, at 52, my financial security is more important to me than it was then, and I’m not as flexible about the kind of work I’ll do.  But this is a very subjective point.  Just be honest with yourself:  Are you really ready to retire?  If so, know that phrases like:  The cost of living is so cheap in Panamá, are relative.  It’s never as cheap as you think it’s going to be.  If you do plan to work, find out—from a lawyer—about what is required to work or set up a business as a foreigner and budget for it.  Legal documents take time to procure, and there are costs involved.
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4. Get professional advice in whatever endeavor you undertake. Do not rely on hearsay.  If you plan to start a business, do your research, and write a business plan. Some internet sites and chat rooms are breeding grounds for rumors, and tittle-tattle.  Find out the facts for yourself before committing your time, and money to something you “heard” was a good idea.  5. Don’t leave your brain at the airport!  Many people who’ve been successful, intelligent professionals in the previous lives, come to a new country and seem to forget that there are unscrupulous people in the world.  If you’re going to invest in property, or a business, have all the papers checked out independently—just like you’d do in your home country.  6. Don’t close all your bank accounts, turn in your credit cards, etc. when you leave your home country. It can take up to two years to get a non-secured credit card in Panamá, for example.  Also, there may be lingering bills, or other events you couldn’t foresee that you’ll need to deal with after you left.

Bocas del Toro, Panama

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7. The may seem obvious, but visit the country if you can, beforehand. When Paul and I left for Europe, we had no idea we’d end up living in Spain for the next decade and a half.  When we decided to leave Europe and move to Central America, we went to Costa Rica twice on vacation before deciding to move there.  Even with all our investigating, though, we only stayed 4 months.  Know that there will be adaptations, and that it takes time to acclimate.  Sometimes you won’t finish up in the place where you started out. 

8. You CAN go home again.  If you’re not happy in a place, you can always go to a third destination—or go back where you started.  Sometimes living in “paradise” proves to be more stressful than you could have imagined.  There are cultural and language differences; different customs and laws. Don’t kid yourself.  It may be warmer/cheaper/friendlier where you are going, but there are stresses too. 

Leaving a home you’ve known for much of your life can be scary.  You’re sure to have some moments of panic, and moments of doubt, and probably a few sleepless nights. Your friends and family might think you’re going bananas, and try to talk you out of your decision.  But are you going to be one of the proverbial sheep, or listen to your own heart? 

Try and talk to expatriates who have chosen the road-less-traveled, if you’re having moments of doubt.  Knowing you’re not the first person to undertake this kind of life’s change (and that you won’t be the last) can help bolster your courage. 

Expatriate Max Williams— a New Zealand traveling man and sailor—made an eloquent case for leaving.  “We dared to step outside the comfort of the crowd to travel our own road.  To where is not important.  It’s the going, the journey—to experience the hardships, anguish and joys.  To see beyond the clouds and rain and know that everyday there is a sunrise and a sunset. Our souls can now never be content on city streets, in offices, or secure in suburban life.  They will always long for those valleys, roaring rivers, sunset lakes, snow against a sapphire sky, wood, smoke, and rain.”

Some people know that there are tremendous opportunities inherent in change.  Some people don’t even know they’re alive.  Which category are you in? 
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Cindy Cody has lived abroad for the past twenty-four years.  She owned her own nautical publishing company in Spain, and recently had her debut novel Banana Bay published by Archebooks Publishing (ISBN 1-59507-031-1  Hardcover $27.99) To contact the author, solve a Five Minute Mystery, or purchase her book, visit  http://www.archebooks.com Banana Bay is also available from Amazon.com or at Barnes & Noble, Borders or at Independent Bookstores everywhere. To contact Cindy by email Click Here

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