It’s never been particularly easy to be an Amerikan abroad. It sure wasn’t when I visited England in 1977, and it wasn’t when I lived there in 1978/79. A surprising (to me) amount of Anti-Amerikan sentiment, which stretched all the way back to World War II. The U.S. had never been bombed. Hadn’t had to deal with the privations forced upon The Scepter’d Isle and its people. No matches. No ice cream. No whatever. Well, too bad, y’know? Nothing to do with me or mine and correct me if I’m wrong, but that war ended in 1945.
Even so, British politicians still go on about the need for “austerity measures.” In 2024. Of course, the people calling the shots in the U.K., if not descended from aristocracy, are certainly well-off financially (as are their counterparts in the U.S. of A.). To them, I’m sure just thinking of the word “austerity” leaves a bad taste in their mouth.
Here on the Continent, no one speaks of “levelling up” (popular among Brit politicos, though I’m not clear on the meaning) and “austerity measures” doesn’t translate into any of the modern tribal tongues that – among other issues – will keep Europe from ever presenting a truly united front (my blog, my opinion, folks).
Of all the audacity! The unmitigated gall of the man!
Yeah, well … I’m often taken to task for the foibles of the U.S. government and military by people whose knowledge of Amerika comes from television, youtube videos, and podcasts by those who have spent little if any time across the pond.
Me? I live here. A legal resident, here only by the consent and at the pleasure of the Dutch government. First came here in 2012 and have been a legal resident since 2019. Even so, I would not presume to make dire pronouncements against either the government or the people. Or, for that matter, the government or people of any other country within reach – and everything’s within reach in Europe (which is why the threat - implied or otherwise – of missiles streaking across the sky is far more tangible than it has been in Amerika since the Cuban Missile Crisis which I am old enough to remember).
And why not? That’s easy: For all my reading, studying – both formal and independent – and time spent here, I simply don’t know enough to make bold, definitive statements. How could I?
But there’s a large dose of irony hereabouts, and this is what I have learned: no one likes the Amerikan government or its ubiquitous military presence. Fair enough. Neither do I. The Amerikan tourists that flood Europe every year are too often a blight on the land and an affront to European sensibilities. Again, I say, fair enough. I do my best to avoid Amerikans when I can spot them, which is more difficult than you might think. And why is that? Because the vast majority of people I’ve come across here in what used to be called The Olde Worlde dress like – you guessed it – Amerikans. They season their languages with Amerikan slang and catch phrases. They even wear New York Yankee baseball caps in a variety of colors (but never the right one) just like rappers do. But, hey, I’m fine with that. Again: I live here. So, how bad can things really be? Not bad at all. And hey, the above observations apply to pretty much the rest of the world (just so no one can accuse me of an anti-European bias). Something to remember, though, is an observation from 1968 by noted social commentator Mick Jagger: While we may all be One in the cosmic sense, we aren’t all the same. How’s that for profundity, eh?
My conclusions are (1) no one likes the Amerikan government or military, (2) no one is all that fond of Amerikans in general, but (3) a great many people want what Amerika has to offer – from barbecue and fried chicken to Americana music to blue jeans and Budweiser - or whatever other good things they believe it has, as long as they can retain their claim to being Dutch, French, German, on and on. Again, you can’t blame them. Hell, I want a lot of the same things. And I wouldn’t give up my status and identity as an Amerikan, even for more money than Han Solo could imagine. I just can’t live there anymore. So it goes. As my Old Man told me, everything has its price. Onward.
"Comment - how could I? I don't have enough information..."
That phrase alone, used often enough, by enough people, in enough situations, could qualify The Expat for a Nobel Peace Prize, (or an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, a Tony, a Pulitzer, or at least a 4H rodeo prize for good sportsmanship).
From the Hallowed Halls to the Hague, I remain your little pirate brother - straightman