expatriating...

The first time I heard the term "expat", somewhere in my mid-twenties, I had no idea what it meant. In my international NGO world (another term I had to learn the meaning of) the word came up quite a lot. Eventually I figured out it was short for expatriate, and then it made more sense. Except it still sounded negative to me... an "ex-patriot", meaning what? Someone who no longer has allegiance to their home country?

Now that I officially am one, I've grown curious about the origin of the term. So as not to disappoint my regular readers, here's a definition:

ex·pa·tri·ate
n : voluntarily absent from home or country [syn: exile] v 1: expel from a country [syn: deport, exile] [ant: repatriate] 2: move away from one's native country and adopt a new residence abroad

I find the "voluntarily" part particularly fitting... along with the "expel" part and the "exile" synonym -- words none too strong to describe the adjustment of swapping countries... There's a lot more to changing one's country of residence than I ever thought about. And I know I have it easy -- a job and a home already provided for me -- environments in which I can comfortably speak English... People to help me translate the letters I get in the mail, research health insurance and taxes and open a bank account...

This weekend I went to a Swiss village and a French-speaking church, where I met the speaker -- a woman who's been a missionary to the Philippines and Asia for over 20 years. In our five-minute conversation we touched on the thing that I think makes expats everywhere kindred... That feeling that you don't quite fit anywhere...

People are always asking me where I want to "settle". This question bothers me on several levels... First, because that's a word I don't particularly like, for all its implications. Secondly, it bothers me because it's a question I can't answer, though everyone seems to think I should be able to. Does everyone have a picture in their head of where they'd like to "end up"? I suppose I can think of things I'd like to be doing and people I'd like to be near, but I can't honestly pick any one geographical spot on the planet.

At some points this transfer process has felt like a violent back and forth across the Atlantic, with my heart wondering where to place its loyalties. In America I'd find myself walking through Walmart aisles complaining that I couldn't find fresh-baked crusty bread and brie... Back in Switzerland I'm mourning the lack of flavored coffee creamer and affordable Mexican food. Am I never satisfied? There's something missing everywhere...

Europe connects with me... the cobblestone streets and looming cathedrals and quaint villages strike a chord somewhere within my Swiss roots. But at my core I'm still an American, and more, the little girl from wild Alaska... Yet when I'm home in my Alaskan-American roots, I find there are parts of that life that still fit me, but other parts that I've outgrown forever...

When you almost lose something, it makes you realize how much you really wanted it. Waiting to come back to Switzerland, it may sound a bit dramatic to say I saw my life flash before my eyes, but that's sort of what happened -- my Swiss life anyway, with all its lost possibilities. So I promised myself... that if and when I returned I would spend less time missing the familiar, and more time exploring my new surroundings... That I would take advantage of the glorious outdoors and take up running again... That I would determine to learn French and go paragliding and try sailing... That I would burn more candles and paint more pictures and read more books... That I would work hard but not too hard... That I would cross borders and open my eyes and see as much as I could see...

Today I may have plenty of reminders that I am absent, exiled, expatriated from my home country... but I'm present somewhere else.

:: "We live in a moment of history where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the present only when it is already disappearing." - R. D. Laing, The Politics of Experience