Best Phrases to Piss Off an Expat

Five years. That’s how long I’ve lived abroad. Coincidentally, it’s also the amount of time I’ve spent hearing negative, judgmental, ignorant, and condescending comments from untraveled people back home in the states and even some other countries.

In that time, I’ve settled in different countries and worked there, like Thailand, South Korea, and China. I’ve also lived in countries for shorter stints and taught English online, like in Vietnam, Japan, Czech Republic, and Indonesia. While out and about, I’ve managed to backpack around several other countries as well (31 countries in total, but who’s counting?).

Along the way, I’ve bumped into some other people. Lots of people. People of many different backgrounds, speaking different languages, being of a variant of ages. People who are backpacking, honeymooning, taking a gap year trip, and, yes, I’ve even met people living a similar lifestyle to mine: living abroad.

Yes. Contrary to what a lot of people in the West might think, there are a lot of expats out there! And, if you’re not totally sure of what an expat is, it’s a person who lives outside of their native country. Simple.

As vastly different as we all might be from one another, there is always one thing my fellow expats and I have been able to bond over: the shit we hear from people back home. The amount of times I’ve complained, whined, and laughed with expat friends over these common utterances are innumerable.

Here are just a few of said comments:

“When are you going to get a real job?”

Alright, this has to be my ultimate favorite. Excuse me while I rant (I actually cracked my knuckles before pounding this out on my keyboard).

I’m sorry, but what in god’s name makes my job as an online or in-person ESL teacher “fake?” Do you all think I’m just sitting around, picking my nose, and getting paid in Monopoly money instead of real money? Surprise: it’s not the case. I do work at my job. I get paid. According to any definition of a “job,” that means my work is indeed a job!

job (noun): 1. a paid position of regular employment.
2. a task or a piece of work, especially one that is paid
*courtesy of Lexico, ran by freakin’ Oxford

Now, I get what you’re going for. You’re asking about a “career,” right? Well, surprise, surprise: teaching ESL is indeed a career!

Oh, and maybe take your closed-minded idea of “success” and fuck right off with it. Just because I’m not a millionaire working on Wall Street, hating myself and everyone around me, doesn’t mean I’m not a successful person. I’m happier than most of those “successful” people you’re envisioning and to me, that’s the greatest form of success I can imagine.

Success, to me, isn’t measured in the numbers in my bank account, but the number of genuine smiles on my face per day.

And I’m not here to downgrade your career or anyone else’s. If you’re driven, you work hard, and you thoroughly enjoy your career, then good on you! I seriously commend you. But, not everyone needs to live that life in order to be a successful human being. Just because my life doesn’t revolve around a job or 401Ks doesn’t mean I’m less of a person than you or anyone else in your life.

“When are you coming back to real life?”

Again with this word “real.” What exactly is “fake” about the life I live in other countries? Honestly, I find living abroad more “real” than living back home in America. Did you know that this whole “career” thing only began a few decades ago, that humans only started having permanent homes some 10,000 years ago, and modern humans have been nomadic for 99 percent of our history?

As it turns out, exploring new cultures, landscapes, terrains, and climates is far more “real life” and “normal” than your career-centered life.

Plus, we live on Earth and I’m wandering around it, absorbing every bit of it I can get. And last time I checked, Earth isn’t a figment of my imagination.

“Aren’t you tired?”

What in the hell does this one even mean? Aren’t you tired—not to mention bored to tears— with your life? For me, every, single day is unique, fascinating, and different from the previous day. I get to live, eat, breathe, sleep, drink, and explore a new culture, a new way of life, a new normalcy every damn day.

So, absolutely-fucking-not. I’m so very, very alive and awake.

“I don’t know how you afford all of this. You must be broke!”

Contrary to popular belief, I work! I earn money! And that requires time. Just because I’m not in my home country doesn’t mean that every day is a holiday where I’m doing nothing at all but blowing my cash on daquiris at posh beach clubs, taking $2,000 cruises around the Bahamas, spending $300 per day on five-course meals, or spending $500 per night on a hotel suite.

I’m working nearly every day. I cook for myself and don’t always eat out. I don’t go out drinking every night. I live in an apartment of my own most times. Simply put, I just live my life, but in another place than my home country. I work and I save money. Yes, I pay rent (which is more often than not far cheaper than it would be in the States). Yes, I buy food (and visit the local grocery store quite often). Yes, I spend some money on activities, but not so much that I’m bankrupt. And, yes, I even pay my student loans!

To be completely frank, I actually save more money living and working abroad than I would in America. I don’t have a mortgage. I don’t have car payments. I don’t have to spend $200 per week on groceries (usually, I pay that in a month!). I don’t have kids. I don’t have various other bills (if I do, they’re again a fraction of the cost as they’d be in America).

I also tend to stay in significantly cheaper countries, like Vietnam, Thailand, China, Indonesia, and other countries of the like. My costs are drastically diminished because of that. So, nope! Certainly not broke.

“You’re going insert literally any country here!? You must be crazy!”

This is just ignorant. Do your research. Not everywhere in our world is constantly getting bombed left and right.

By the way, fellow Americans, I am in far more danger living in America than I am in the places I’ve lived. Why? Because everywhere I’ve been, civilians don’t have guns.

So, guess what? I can go to the movies, go grocery shopping, go out drinking, go do anything without the possibility of being shot!

That, and a lot of other countries are just far more civilized and have less aggressive people. A lot of places just have far less crime than you may be imagining.

Granted, there are times where I’ve felt unsafe. I mean, I witnessed a terrorist attack in Barcelona, for god’s sake. However, there have been times where I’ve felt unsafe in America, like standing outside Madison Square Garden in New York City on a Saturday night.

Nothing happened, of course, but I just felt extremely uncomfortable with the plethora of homeless people approaching me, begging for money— and with a fair amount of hostility.

Anything can happen anywhere.

“You must be so lonely!”

Oh, this is a real good one. Since living abroad, I’ve never felt more lonely than when I go home for a visit. Now, don’t get me wrong: my love and admiration for my family and friends back home has no bounds. They are my rocks. They are my people.

But, I can struggle to relate to them (and others) sometimes, as I’m sure they do with me as well. We complain about different things. We worry about different issues.

For example, I’ll complain about the cost of a flight to Colombia, but they’ll complain about the cost of their monthly car payment. I don’t even have a car.

Or they’re worrying about what Christmas gifts to give people. Meanwhile, I’m worrying about if I should even get anyone any gifts because no one ever appreciates the shit I bring them from abroad.

America, for me, is a foreign land. People are sheltered, closed-minded, and uncultured (for the most part, of course). They’re almost brain-washed to believe America is the only safe place on the planet and that the world has nothing to offer them but pain, terrorism, and corruption.

Not to mention to make new friends there can be extremely difficult. I don’t feel like I can just waltz into a bar by myself on a Saturday night, wiggle my way into a friend group, then be best friends with them for forever. Instead, my nerves are suddenly consequential, almost debilitating. And this isn’t normally an issue of mine. People seem to be more closed off to new people at home.

However, when I find myself in a new place, city or country? I seek out people and people seek me out. We can relate. We can discuss the places we’ve been, people we’ve met, experiences we’ve had. We’re open. It doesn’t matter if I’m alone in a bar where I go. I can almost immediately make friends. I don’t feel ostracized.

I find people in bars, clubs, restaurants. I discover new friends online in places like Facebook groups and on Couchsurfing hangouts, then meet up with them.

The world is far more welcoming and friendlier than people at home have come to believe.

Granted, there are times when I miss my friends and family at home. So much so, that I’ve considered going home for an extended amount of time. And, if I’m being completely honest, I will most likely end up doing that at some point in my life.

But, for now? I’m feeling very good about where I’m at and who I find here— wherever “here” happens to be.

As much as these phrases can hurt, I think the worst is what these people, especially loved ones, don’t say. The ones to whom you are closest, but the very same ones who never care to ask about your life beyond home, which, by the way, is almost an entire expat’s life. That stings. That breaks me down. That makes me question friendships and relationships.

So, if you’ve uttered some of the above phrases to your beloved expat, here are some suggestions of things to say and questions to ask to fix it (and your relationship with said expat):

How are you doing— really?

How’s work going?

What is one thing you love and one thing you hate about where you are?

What’s your favorite food *insert country/city name here?

Who are your friends there? Where are they from?

Have you ever had traveler’s diarrhea?

Literally, ask and say anything. It may not seem like it, but your expat would appreciate it more than you may think. Us expats like to have hard exteriors, pretend that we don’t care what you think, but we do (to an extent, of course). We picked up and left the world we knew our entire lives for an uncertain adventure. Granted, we know we don’t need pity or anything like that. But, like anyone in this world, we just want love and support from the ones we love the most.

Living abroad is a lifestyle. Who wouldn’t want only positivity from the people they hold dearest for their way of life?