expatriates

saigon, vietnam

bittersweet. we use the word to explain situations. we can all think of a few: hearing that a cure for sickle cell anemia has been found- by your former high school bully; a litter of adorable labrador puppies eating the remainder of your exposed entrails; going to disneyland to find that those are not the seven dwarfs and those sticks they are poking you with are actually quite sharp, but the lady at the front gate only charged you the student rate.

beyond situations, the word is limited. taken generally, which for this case we must do, it is hard to ascribe this description to a person, place, or thing. but bittersweet describes the personality of an expat in asia to a tee. let's start from the positive because they really are sweet people. they have to be. the cultural gap is so large between west and east that there has to be some sticky, dulcet softness inside even the hardest soul to make it here. you still have to kill with kindness. a smile is still the most accepted bride. one can follow the pendulum of their moods like anywhere but it is simply ineffective and bad practice to be a sourpuss.

and for the second part of that compound word? yep, that's present as well. there's a certain get-shit-done-ness to the western life that does not seem to translate or does so at a different pace that will always be foreign, no matter how many years immersed. imagine the frustration of not having your expectations met at restaurants and in professional settings for years on end and you can see how even the bubbliest spirit can spoil.

in and out of saigon over the past few weeks, i have had the front row barstool's view into the minds of expats for a few nights. going to an expat bar is like going to karaoke night as a guest at your friend's country club. sure, you could sing, but it's best for all involved if you let the regulars tackle "the rose." the atmosphere is that of a fallout bunker in central canada; you are invited and it will be safe, but it's not entirely warm.

get in a room of three or more expats and the conversation will follow the gentle arc of dank, dark humor about local customs. what do you know? nothing. you just crossed a border and maybe, maybe snapped some great pictures of some ruins or a bay. that funny story you have about your misunderstood order at the street food stall? they have those too-from nine years ago. telling your impressions of the host country would be like if i were to tell cal ripken about my only season of playing little league baseball. they've been there, done that, and even got to chew tobacco.

which is not to say that they know all. they know a lot, but the sad thing about the expat is that between all of those comical observations and instances of unintended innuendo, they lost their innocence. generally speaking, of course. having spent time as both an expat and a traveler, i can see the gentle balance that must be maintained between the two. while an expat will always be able to trump your best card and suit at the host country story game, there's something fun about being innocent. there is always the possibility of enlightenment should you choose to stay longer, and maybe it would be a terrific idea to reach that bodhi and get out before you lose track of what it was all about from the beginning.