Are memes dead? If yes, hooray! It’s safe to go blogging again.
I took part in memes once or twice, but cringed while doing so.
Not because I think they sucked like so many chain letters that promised good luck if passed along and eternal damnation if you didn’t, but because the questions posed either didn’t interest or didn’t apply to me. Many were aimed at 16- to 30-year-olds living in some suburb somewhere on the Eastern Seaboard of the USA and packed with questions about tattoos, the local mall, school, dating, your parents, God, baseball, and your last holiday in Jamaica. In other words, written with a separate species in mind.
So here’s a meme I never took part in, because it never arrived my way. An expat meme, with questions I might have answered had anyone bothered to ask them. Now it’s too late.

How long have you lived away from your home country? Going on 20 years.
Do you still feel like you’re just visiting? All the time. I’m serious.
What do you notice the most has changed about your home country when you go back for a visit? More American influence in media, language and culture in general.
If you were to move again, would it be back to your home country? Without a doubt.
Do you ever get homesick? Only in the run-up to a holiday back home. You can tell right here because I start to write memory-laden posts about the old days.
If you read the news, do you read it in your native language or that of your host country? English mostly, but German and French as well.
What do you like the most about Germany? The amount of free time I have. It’s something I value very highly. That and no Sunday shopping. One day a week where consumerism has to hit the brakes.
What grates you the most? Whiners who bitch and moan about Germany but refuse to leave, offering up a dozen excuses for not doing so. Get the hell out if you don’t like it. What are you waiting for? Someone to decide for you?
Did you speak the language of your host country before you arrived? Not a bit.
How long did it take before you felt comfortable speaking the language? I’m still not completely comfortable unless I’ve had a couple glasses of beer.
If people switch to English when you speak to them in their language, how do you react? I like it! It means they’re reaching out for a connection, which is good, so I usually say something back in English to see how far it will go.
What has been the biggest change you’ve had to make in leaving your home country? In Hamburg, I can’t go hiking in the mountains. There’s no skiing or mountain biking worth getting excited about for a thousand km, and I can’t just drop by a tennis court anytime and start playing.
If there were a button to improve anything about your expatriate life, what would it say on the button? For free flights home, press here.
**So, that’s it. You are not required to pass this on. You may, however, look closely at that photo and tell me what’s weird about it. Aside from the guy on the right.

1 New Year noisemaker, ca. 1968
1 metal sugar scoop made in Grade 8 metalwork shop, 1972. I hated that class. The teacher was two metres tall and had a horrible temper he let loose with a booming voice. He once humiliated a classmate to tears by smashing his work flat with a sledgehammer.
4 gold Molson Mostar ski racing pins won at Whistler Mountain, BC. They were fun ski races. A ski instructor or patroller would weave through the gates, with his timing used as a benchmark for yours. If your timing was less than 10% slower than his, you got a gold pin.
1 Canadian flag, made of cloth and sewn on backpack for trip to Europe and Middle East in 1980 – 81.
1 square of leather cut away from the long-discarded boots I wore on that trip.
1
1 t-shirt remains from Mount Hermon ski area in the Golan Heights, Israel, where I worked as a first aid ski patroller in the winter of 1980 – 81.
1 can of Elite instant coffee, bought in Kiryat Shmona, Israel, 1981.
1 exploded nose cone cover of a
1 shell casing from the
Spare keys to the only three cars I’ve ever owned. All bought used. The
1 Canadian Ski Instructors’ Alliance pin. Best and worst job I ever had. Low pay, deep tan.
Via Rail uniform buttons, lapel and a souvenir pin from definitely the worst job I ever had. I still refer to it as Vile Rail.
1 roll of splicing tape and razor blades for editing tape for radio reporting. I can’t believe it was only 15 years ago they were teaching this in journalism school. Now it’s all done digitally, of course. A bit of a loss, really.
1 photographer’s press pass to see Canadiens hockey games at the old Montreal Forum, 1993. Never got to go interview the players after the game, but free entry to Canada’s most revered hockey shrine was priceless.
1 deck of
1 deck of Donruss original Montreal Expos 25th Anniversary Edition baseball cards. Opened. Another goody-bagger for journalists. Please ignore the McDonald’s logo.
1 Little Red Book. Bought in Beijing, 1997.
1 book of postcards depicting glorious and commendable revolutionary dance drama theatrical production Red Detachment of Women
1 Hong Kong cent note. Value: next to nothing.
About 20 Hong Kong dollars worth of bar coupons to the Hong Kong Press Club.
A slew of identification cards, including:
Take the case of my friend and fellow Canadian Douglas in London. We met in Hong Kong in late 1995 when he was being hired for a new weekly show at the station where I was working. Because they
And instead of moaning about another dreary London morning, he’ll once again be able to enjoy breakfast on the terrace in the middle of February amid lush greenery, warm breezes and maybe even the sight of a passing 














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