Unpacking the Expat

Over the last few months I have had some interesting conversations with expats of different ages regarding what we hold dear and how we hold it.

When I chucked in my fab job and sold my share of my beloved home, I put pretty much everything in storage and threw away very little – you see I needed a safety blanket, what if I hated London and needed to come back in a few months, and there was nothing left for me to come home too.

Once in London I quickly realised that the city had gotten under my skin and that I would not be returning home anytime soon.  On my first visit home I wanted to get rid of loads of stuff but due to circumstances beyond my control I was unable to get into the storage facility – my Dad’s factory – to sort through the numerous boxes that held memories of my former life.  I guess from a parent’s perspective, I get rid of all of that then it might be true that I will not be moving home in the near future.

With the recent earthquake in Christchurch and the devastating stories of people losing it all, everything that they have, it made me question again the possessions that I have both in London and all over the world.  It’s fair to say that I came to London with 70kg of my possessions on my back –excessive you might say but that was all I held dear – shoes and hairdryers are important.  And whilst there have been acquisitions since then, there is nothing like what I used to own.  I don’t own any furniture, and have very little bake wear.  But I do have souvenirs from all over the world and have a fair few photos and knickknacks to pad out my room. 

It’s a strange existence that we expats eek out.  We are not going home in the near future, but intend to at some point, so we don’t accumulate too much.  And what we do is largely disposable.  One friend noted on helping another move, that they had loads of books.  And that moving them from flat to flat was a huge hassle.  But this couple loved their books and fully intend to move them to whichever country they end up residing in.  His point was that he did not have much that he held dear here and whilst he would keep a book that was given to him for sentimental value, he would almost begrudge this being given for that reason. 

I guess that my point is that whilst I can’t put a date on when I will be going home – at least in the next two years, I don’t really seem to be living here either.  I have no plans to save for a house here – in fact saving here is nigh on impossible due to the cost of living and the low wages.  I try not to accumulate too much, including clothing and shoes which are necessities of a professional life.  But I am reaching an age in my life where I am beginning to feel the need to settle down and have a secure home.  I mean really how far into your 30’s is it acceptable to be in a flat share with no real idea or means of when to settle down.  Am I just avoiding growing up?  Will I be an eternal traveller?  I feel like I have put down some roots in London but then in London everything and everyone is transient.

What do you think?  Are expats just experiencing Peter Pan syndrome or are we just the beginning of the trend to downsize and de-clutter our lives?