2023: Half a year as an expat in Europe
(This is a translated version of the article “2023: 歐洲半年expat的旅程”)
Dear readers, Merry Christmas (I started to write this article on Christmas eve). Although it’s a holiday not traditionally related to Asian culture, seeing everyone returning to their cities and reuniting with their families makes me feel exceptionally lonely here in Paris.
The shift in the focus of my life happened faster than I imagined. Looking back to 2023, I’m surprised to find that I spend half the year in Europe, and in a few months, I’ll be officially entering the French workforce.
The first half of the year didn’t leave a strong impression on me. Moving out of a strange (yet memorable) apartment in Chunghe and returning to live with my parents in Xizhi after four and a half years; not surprisingly, due to various frictions in our daily life coupled with the energy I brought back from Europe (which I had nowhere to channel), I had arguments with my parents everyday, even swearing in front of them that I would return to Europe this year (Et voilà, I’m here).
Besides that, my life revolved around handling my master’s applications in France (which I didn’t thoroughly contemplate on), reading the quarterly issues of “Crossing” (換日線, A Taiwanese independent media), and fueling myself with beautiful imaginations of life abroad to energize myself for the tedious application process. Every night, I would tear down photos of me and my friends in Europe from the wall, and write on the back how much I longed to return to Europe, how boring I found Taiwan’s environment, and how I didn’t want to continue living a comfortable yet monotonous life. I couldn’t help repeating to myself that “Taiwan no longer offers the excitement I crave.”
The second half of 2023 started with a summer internship in Germany (article written in Mandarin) during which I realized the real challenges of living abroad and that the life of an expatriate wasn’t as wonderful as I had imagined. Initially, like a newcomer fresh into society, I supported myself doing many things with immense passion and enthusiasm. However, the pressure from work and the overwhelming administrative issues burst my bubble of idealism. My energy and motivation were quickly exhausted, making everything more realistic and clear. Moreover, the sense of imbalance caused by the relatively low salary in the research institution also made me question — why I was working so hard, yet earning a salary similar to others? Was it a good choice for me to be an engineer or a scientist in Europe?
After flying back to Taipei with these question and replenishing my energy in a familiar environment for two weeks, I embarked on my next European journey again. This time, I flew to Paris to start the second year of my master’s studies, which brought more complex issues than those I had in Germany:
- Academic grades couldn’t be too poor (is my math skill sufficient enough?)
- Concerns about whether the internship I found was good enough (is this job a good starting point for my career in Europe, does the salary support my living expenses, is the work content in line with my (research) interests, are the company benefits sufficient, is the company size substantial, etc)
- Interests and social life (how strong is my mental support)
- Degree of social integration
and the most exhausting part of being an expatriate is the never-ending administrative tasks — social insurance, visa, housing subsidies. Plus, when interacting with public agencies, I always need to carefully navigate the interactions so as not to offend the French, as they might become less cooperative if upset. Yet, it’s equally important to assertively maintain my position and persistently negotiate with them. Otherwise, with their passive attitude, by the time they resolved my issues, I might have already been deported. (These countless daily minutiae began to make me irritable as I wrote.)
By mid-November, the immense pressure led me to question why I came here and why I was exhausting my mental energy just to stay in Europe. I had chosen a program which is not the most suitable for me, often compared myself to others and felt inferior, and feared not being able to optimize my career path. I wondered whether the sacrifices I made leaving the comfortable life in Taiwan were worth it. Could it all be in vain, and would I be able to convince myself later that “these are just accumulations of life experiences”? I am acutely aware that I was no longer at an age where I could afford to waste time.
I have never been one to adhere to the principle of “never forget why you started” （莫忘初衷 in mandarin), but now the only thin reason that keeps me going is my original desire to leave the unexciting life in Taiwan. Ironically, I now find myself missing the uneventful and comfortable life I had before. I long for the sunshine in Taiwan, the taste of Taiwanese food, and the convenience of life there. Here, every day brings new challenges, requiring a bit more courage and strength than what was needed back in Taiwan. It’s indeed thrilling, but it also leaves me with an indescribable sense of exhaustion. Whenever friends from afar send messages asking about my well-being, my constant replies are “not good” and “every tired”, but I can’t provide a concrete example of what exactly makes me so exhausted every day.
Apart from the real-life challenges, there’s been a strange change in my personality — being productive no longer attracts me as it used to. Maybe it’s because of the winter depression, perhaps the cultural atmosphere here has influenced me, maybe I haven’t found a place where my mind can be alone and relaxed, or it could just be these daily challenges that no longer let me feel the joy and excitement of solving problems. In short, the dopamine cycle built up from small accomplishments no longer exists, and I no longer push myself to perfect every task. (I finally manage to prioritize my health above everything else?)
The past version of me would never have imagined that I could become so lazy. Indeed, a part of me still screams internally against this, but I always find myself lacking the motivation to do anything on my to-do list, both mentally and physically. Sometimes, I even resist completing tasks on the list, because addressing one issue often leads to three more arising. I’ve even started to dread Monday mornings when the world starts moving again, and everyone begins to reply to emails, urging and pushing each other at work. This kind of interaction feels suffocating to me.
If someone asks me if I’m happy now?
I would probably answer: there are moments of happiness, but the feelings of helplessness, jealousy, and depressions seem to be more prevalent. I actually wish, like last year, to mark 2023 as a pivotal year in the direction of my life. But in reality, this year has just been about strategically moving step by step and slowly converging my life and my career development at the intersections of my dreams and the reality.
Set goals, plan actions, execute them, achieve results.
I repeat these mechanical steps every day, but the troubling part is that the last step no longer brings me a sense of accomplishment.
Can I accept this change in my personality? I don’t know yet.
Maybe I would change again. I’m still adapting to the environment, still establishing my life, and not yet accustomed to the pace of life here. But will I ever get used to it? Can I successfully establish a stable life in Europe?
This is an experiment that will take years to answer.
To properly organize my thoughts from this past year, I went through my diaries and photos. I’m grateful that many friends have always been by my side during crucial times when my emotions fluctuated greatly, especially in the second half of the year. Some gave me remote supports from Taiwan, while others, scattered across various locations in Europe, came together whenever I needed them most.
