The nice part of all millennium hype is that its a prime excuse
to strap on the wide angle lens and look at ourselves in history.
If every New Year youre supposed to make a resolution, then the
last New Year of a century should require a really special one,
and the last New Year of a millennium, well, that should demand
an especially penetrating personal resolve. Although perhaps the greatest non-event of living memory, the
passing from 99 to 00 only happens to earthlings every 30 generations
or so. Thus, a moment of sacred stocktaking for hybrid-expats
is perhaps in order.
If your lack of enthusiasm for this abrupt passage of time is
intensified by your seemingly insignificant plans for the 31st,
take comfort in the cool fact that more than two-thirds of the worlds six billion residents live in countries where the local culture doesnt even use the
Judeo-Christian calendar. In other words, for most people in the
world, this is not the year 2000! So whats all the fireworks
about?
These two points (the millennium as a time to take stock and the
culturally-relative importance of this mega event) kind of join
at the hip chez nous, the expatriates of the world, those of us
that live on the cusp of cultures and hopscotch on the fine line
of frontiers. With Paris as our expatriate capital the city-state of self-inflicted exile we should ponder a bit our state of being at this most momentous
of non-occasions.
How many are we? The number of anglophone expats in Paris at the
end of the second millennium remains largely unknown. Why? Because
the statistic is of little use to anyone. The consumer habits
of this group are so disparate that the size of the community
alone helps no one get rich overnight. So, for the sake of conversation,
well tag the community at 100,000 permanent residents.
Who we are, how long weve been here, what we do, and what we
think are all virtually unanswerable questions. All we know is
that the expat community keeps replenishing itself, remains sizable
and noticeable, and lives in a general flux between harmony and
discord with the native culture. We hate it, we love it, we have no choice.
When two or three people mention the same thing at relatively
the same time you can be pretty sure youve spotted a trend. These
days I keep hearing American expats in Paris refer back to the
home country as I couldnt imagine living there. Why? Because that place no longer resembles the America they
left. Because it doesnt include the daily stuff they prefer about
France. Because back home people no longer understand you. Because
your aesthetic appreciation of life, everything from buying arranged
flowers to taking time for an extended family vacation belong
to here, rather than there. Here with all its problems has
grown more familiar than there. And face it: here is where we live.
Expats visiting former homes end up feeling like complete strangers.
Try to use an American pay-phone without an American calling card.
Try changing a 200F note downtown anywhere other than an airport.
International means the ability to get Ethiopian food delivered
quickly. It means the finding of great package trips to the Bahamas.
It means getting CNN in a Hyatt hotel and paying for it with a
credit card that gives you frequent additional flyer miles. To citizens of the world today, globalization doesnt mean that
youll feel at home everywhere or that itll even be easier to
live in a foreign country. It means that wherever you are your
habits as a consumer are known in astonishingly nuanced detail
and your economic value is part of zillions of commercial strategies,
from the maker of breakfast cereal to your on-line supplier of
novels.
Living outside of a past life obliges you to compare and contrast.
It forces you to ask questions, and to see perspectives otherwise
hidden. That questioning is at the core of expatriate life. The expats greatest asset is the unsettling feeling that underlies
every moment. Try to convey that to your friends and family back
home and they look at you funny, as if to say youve been away
too long. And you have.
When we go back, we try to pull the place into focus with our
own way of seeing. It doesnt gel. I was walking out of an airport recently, Baltimore or Providence,
and it struck me. I got it. Like that, after all these years.
The culture of franchises and easy-to-board planes and friendly
signs in hotel bathrooms with coffee makers... rang out and I
heard it. Heres a country where you can make money. There are
lots of nice ways of spending it. So shut up, and partake. Thats
it. This was not Henry David Thoreaus America speaking, nor Ralph Waldo Emersons, but it is the America of the day. And if youre not in sync
with the Muzak, youd better take up residence in some enticing
Parisian fourth floor walk-up and learn to love kirs.
Earlier, I spoke of a mammoth resolution for the millennium year.
Looking over the scores of articles Ive composed for anglophone
expats in Paris over the years Ive noticed a fair share of bashing, complaining, harping, whining, longing, regretting, hoping... standard verbiage for the expat trying to hang onto what he
or she once was, while living in the present. And for many of
us, we came to the conclusion that you cant have it both ways.
Thinking American is not the same thing as thinking French. Ultimately,
the head and the body have to belong to the same creature. The
21st century expat can be that creature.
The new centurys visage is characterized by a simple new belief
that in all countries and within all systems it is people and
their passions one at a time that make a difference. Replace
the act of complaint with the gift to inspire someone, anyone, and youll see a change. Expats are the true ambassadors
of our age.
David Applefield is the author of Paris Inside Out and the editor
of www.paris-anglo.com.