Expatriates

Last weekend, I attended a shin-dig for a tried and true expat population. There was champagne and wine and beer, and we were seated at a table full of American couples (there were some Canadians in the mix, but damned if I couldn't tell the difference). Business men and their wives, relocated corporate managers and their trailing spouses. They laughed loudly. They slapped each other on the back and talked about sports. They teased each other and toasted their friends. If I closed my eyes, I could swear I was in the U.S. The man sitting next to us wrapped his knuckles on the table and told us about the crime rate in Brussels. He discussed Brussels politics with my husband, with interest. And at some point he gestured across the table to a petite, pretty brunette. My wife, he said, is Italian. But she's become more American here in Belgium than she ever was in the states. I looked at her friends, women who were perfectly quaffed for the evening out, women who spoke with the wide, standard accent of American English. They left me at one point at the table, alone with the men, a pack of them off to the bathroom to check their makeup and chat, and me sitting between my husband and the manager of a shipping company, a short man with a moustache, who cradled a Belgian beer. So how did you end up back in Belgium? the man asked my husband. My H. opened his hands and replied: It was a mutual decision. She wanted to come. We both wanted to come. The men laughed and shook their heads. Just wait until she's away, and we'll get the real answer out of you! She followed you! That's what you gotta tell people! Because, I suppose, that is what they tell people about their own wives. That's probably what their wives tell people, too.

Later in the evening, after even more wine and beer, that same short, moustached man leaned over to us once again. This country's great for expats, he said. We live in an expat neighborhood here. We have a great community. In fact, you're practically the first true Belgian we've met! An expat neighborhood, I imagine, full of iron-gated houses and large, green gardens. They shake their heads when they discuss Belgian bureaucracy, and speak loudly to the postal carriers to compensate for not knowing French or Dutch. And why should they learn, after all? For many of them, this is stop number four or five on an endless string of relocations, a fleeting arrangement that will surely fold in on itself if they make any drastic movements towards permanency.

The entire crowd was all very American, in fact -- a few other Western Europeans scattered in, those who know English well, Swedes and Dutch and Germans and, of course, the British. They are a tight group. I am endlessly lucky, I find myself thinking, that my native tongue is English. Had I been a Spanish speaker with weak English, or an Arabic speaker with a smattering of English, or a Persian speaker with decent English, my job would have been inaccessible to me.

The very next day I attended a party, a lovely little picnic on a lovely day with fresh watermelon and wine. There were French speakers and English speakers, and an invisible line drawn between them. I sat snug on the English side, and smiled shyly when a Francophone would make their way over for a brownie or a refill. I do know Belgians just by virtue of being married to one, and I do take part in their culture, at least on holidays and special occasions. But I enjoy life here partly because of this English crowd. I am comfortable with them, I don't struggle to express myself with them, and we cling together in some ways, people navigating a different terrain, but with things, very valuable things, things normally not even an issue, in common.

I persist with Dutch and I must admit, being around those French speakers even for an afternoon made me anxious to get back to working on French. I take little, comfortable steps, and I certainly don't live in an expat neighborhood. I do feel like I put up something of a fight to challenge myself. Then again, the transition to life in Belgium has been smooth, and I know that's partially due to the English that's so accessible, the speakers, native and otherwise, who are scattered the globe over.