Day 282 of 1827: Wish You Were Here

Does anybody know the name of the squiggly bit over the ‘n’ in ‘ñ’?

A friend suggested cola del chancho, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the official name.

I have a lot of conversations with people in my country of origin about the obstacles in the way of their own Five Years Abroad. The subject of money tends to come up rather frequently.

“I wish I had the resources that you do.”
“I don’t have enough money to make it work.”
“I would move to a foreign country, but it’s too expensive.”
“I wouldn’t be able to find a job there.”
“I can’t afford the $110 to apply for a passport.”

Yes, really. People have said these things to me.

Now, I have to ask….

If I were to say to you, “I will give you one million dollars if you live in a foreign country – of your choice – for five years. Offer’s good anytime in your life; you just have to live in a foreign country for 5 continuous years at some point.” And I showed you the vault full of cash, signed a contract with you, the whole nine yards. 100% certainty that after those 5 years, you would be a million smackeroos richer.

Do you think you might be able to come up with the $110 for your passport? How much effort would you put into lining up a job once you arrived? Is it possible that you might immediately start saving up every spare penny so that you could afford the travel and expenses until you found work?

Clearly, it’s not impossible for these people to live in a foreign country; they just don’t want to do it.

And I completely understand that. When I first started thinking about living abroad, I didn’t want to do it, either.

But that’s not what I told people.

I told people that I couldn’t live abroad because local wages were too low to afford a decent standard of living. I told people that managing accommodations in a foreign country was really tricky. I told people that there were serious safety problems in South America.

But none of that had anything to do with the real reason I didn’t want to do it.

The real reason I didn’t want to do it was because I was afraid.

I was afraid that if I went out into the world by myself – with nothing but my own intelligence and skill to rely on – I would fail.

Now that I’ve been living outside my culture of origin for almost a year, I can see where that came from, and I completely sympathize with myself for feeling that way.

But as I discovered very quickly once I left my country of origin, there was never anything to be afraid of.

I’m a really smart guy. And I’m resourceful. And I’m creative. And I’m incredibly handsome.

And that’s not just me blowing smoke up my own butt. Well, except for that last one.

You are a lot smarter than you think. And you’re a lot more resourceful than you think. And you’re a lot more creative than you think.

And you’re probably a lot prettier than you think, too.

How do I know this? Because you think that silly problems like money or safety or politics are what’s stopping you from living abroad.

But if money was really what was stopping you, how come you didn’t open a savings account two years ago and make monthly contributions when you first started thinking about living abroad?

If safety or politics was really what was stopping you, how come you didn’t reach out to people actually living in those places and ask them for the inside scoop?

If finding a job was really what was stopping you, how come you never got in contact with local employers or job scouters to see what was available?

I don’t blame you for avoiding the real problem. The real problem makes you incredibly uncomfortable. The real problem forces you to deal with stuff that you’d much rather avoid. The real problem scares you.

And, just between us, I think it’s a good thing that you’ve waited until the right moment to deal with the real problem. You weren’t ready.

Until now.