In the years that have passed living here in Europe there was an inexorable motion that I’ve only recently become aware of, you start off as a foreigner and then end up something else, something in between. It’s something every foreigner is aware of, no matter how long they live in an adopted country, you will never be from that country or that culture, you are part of a class that always sits on the fringes of integration. For some expats the separation is more pronounced, the colour of your skin for instance, for many it’s the heavily accented way they will always speak the language. Some are lucky and can overcome these physical traits and move closer to the heart of a culture, but in most cases the best you can achieve is three steps on the inside ring.

There is a time of change though for those expats that stay somewhere beyond the first couple of years, and really start to grows roots into the place they’ve chosen as home. You start to blend in, and feel yourself becoming part of the place, a blanket of comfort covers your day to day existence, and you feel easy. But, you never are allowed to forget that you don’t come from this place. It is not your culture and it never will be.

I read a book many years written by a man called John Fowles called, The Magus. It’s about the dramatic life experience of a young English man who takes a teaching position on one of the Greek islands. The story is quite involved so I won’t relate it here, suffice to say that for anyone that has spent any time of their life as an expatriate, they should read it for empathy that is inside. Fowles said through his protagonist that once a person takes themselves out of their own environment and moves away, they will recreate that environment where ever they are. And so home becomes a space between a set of walls that imitates their cultural identity, independent of the country they are in.

It’s an interesting concept when you really start to think about it.

Andy.

I’ve been away home now around 13 years. It almost seems like another life time when I try to remember what it was like. Home for me was Brisbane, that nice big country town about two thirds of the way down the east coast of Australia. Lovely place really, but at the time it seemed very small, and I couldn’t wait to get out.

The first move I made was London, where I spent just under two years living and using as a base before moving to Amsterdam, where I’ve been ever since. I remember those first two years as a very big time of discovery, both personally and geographically. I roamed England and other parts of the world out of an obsession and love for travelling.

My move to Amsterdam though became something more than just a travel trip, it was a move to a place that I would settle and call home. I grew to love the city and it’s people and the lifestyle that I had here. Each year I would say to myself I would only stay here a year, and then at the end of the year I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else. And now after a decade I feel more Amsterdams than I do Australian.

It’s funny though, I haven’t lost the accent from Australia at all. None of us really do I think, once you have it, it stays with you for life, like a criminal record that never goes away, not even after 200 years of colonial rule. But after that there isn’t much inside of me that’s still dinky-di true blue Oz. Most of my core attitudes have changed, and the association I had with the community of people from there is feeling very thin.

After a time you start to ask yourself, who am I?

Ten years ago if someone had of asked me, would there ever come a time when I wouldn’t feel like an Australian, I would have said they were fucking crazy. After all, I was an Australian’s Australian; I loved my Friday night (Rugby League) footy on TV, and honest Aussie rock. I loved driving down the South Coast road to Brunswick Heads to the Stone Ground Pie Factory and chowing down on a meat pie with peas or three. But now, ever so slowly, everything seems to have changed, and after so long away, I no longer feel like the Australian I was before.

Andy.