Days 61–62: It’s A Nice Place To Visit, But I Wouldn’t Want To Live There
What I said to a Spaniard contemplating a move to the United States
We moved *away* from the US as much as we moved *to* Europe. We knew we were giving up some things that were irreplaceable (family, friends, the best bar ever) and that we’d need to rebuild others (a sense of community, familiarity with…everything, language fluency).
We were willing to take those losses and do that work in exchange for what we hoped we’d find: increased quality of life, decreased racism, decreased violence, decreased vitriol, increased access to healthcare, increased access to education, increased access to travel, and the excitement big change can bring.
Last night, after Shabbat dinner and my weekly zoom-hang with my sister-friend (who I miss deeply), we found ourselves out with a group of mostly new-to-us people. Of the 9 of us around the table, 6 were from the US, 1 was from Belgium, 1 was from France, and 1 was from Spain. All of us live here and, with the exception of the Spaniard, had been here from 2 months (us) to 3 years having chosen to live here over where we were from. Our conversation clipped along easily in English, reminding me of how far I have to go in my language learning and how amazing it is that other people have such strong English skills.
At one point in the evening, the man from Spain shared that he wanted to go to the US, and the woman from France suggested he chat with me since we were the newest arrivals. I found myself saying:
“It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
When you’re inside a culture it can be challenging to see all the good that surrounds you. From his perspective Spain is just “normal” and the things that are so compelling and different to me just wash right over him. Of course you spend most of your time outside, and walk from point a to point b, and your only personal safety worry is about having your pocket picked.
I watched his eyes get bigger as I talked about the things I’m experiencing here that are so different from how things work there.
- I went out, at night, on my own, via public transit, to meet people at a bar. (no cat-calling, no one exposing themselves, no “hey beautiful” said in the least complimentary way possible)
- I have only seen two people sleeping out on the street in the two months we’ve been here. (no tent cities, no one sleeping in bus shelters or on park benches, no one clearly carrying everything they own everywhere they go, no need for multiple “homeless shelters” in a single town or city)
- Public transit is deeply subsidised and things in general are affordable. (This one was debatable as prices are rising here but are still nowhere near the outsized spending expected in the US)
- I’m not worried about gun violence. (no weekly reports of gun violence, no daily reports of “shots fired”, no concealed carry, no peace vigils because they’re not necessary)
It didn’t feel good, exploring all the things not right about the US. I felt bad for the state of things in my home country, and for dashing his hopes, and tried to salvage the interchange.
“Going for a visit, though, you’ll be fine! Just, um, don’t get sick while you’re there.”
