The Expat Dilemma An Extended Stay at “Home”

Washington, DC is where so many expatriates, most especially those who work for the US government, return for home-leave.  They may come back for periodic re-indoctrination, updating of their skills and/or to simply avoid losing their American identity. Some corporations even require that Expats go ‘home’ every few years as a matter of principle.  

What should be a normal, if not an easy relocation, often causes dramatic culture shock. Sure, it’s nice to see family and friends.  But so many of the latter have moved on or developed different interests which aren’t necessarily mutual.   

Often the ‘hardship’ perks that accompany being posted abroad (such as housing, private schooling for children, and under some circumstances a driver, household help and more) come to a sudden halt. Welcome home. You’re on your own, and good luck.  

Within a matter of days, people are frequently jolted into reality. Unless they (in hindsight) were wise enough not to sell their homes when they made the decision to become professional ‘guns for hire,’ they’re often relegated to living in smaller quarters, in contrast to subsidized or official housing.  Many people regret they took their real estate profits and ran but, at the time, they didn’t relish the idea of being absentee landlords with the gamut of potential management problems engendered by tenants’ coming and going. When Expats return to the US and realize there’s no way they can afford their former digs much less their old neighborhood, it’s a sobering revelation.  

I know the feeling. The Georgetown house we bought for $66,500 recently sold for more than $2 million. It always needed a bit of work but it’s a shocker to drive by and see a jiffy john on the street and the house’s insides totally gutted. Currently, the building is only a façade in which workmen are madly working; there’s no longer a staircase, much less ceilings. The house still looks identical from the outside, including the modern cylindrical light we installed to the left of the doorway to give it a more contemporary feeling. But, there’s no way that’s going to be left intact.  

Currently I’m in Washington, DC taking care of some family business and awaiting the birth of my second grandchild. During my time here, we held the The Bonjour Paris Get Together which was enormous fun and made me less and yet, more homesick. It’s nice to know there are people who possess many of the same values and passions I feel for France. But my cravings to return home became increasingly acute as we sat discussing my adopted home.  

If any US city resembles Paris, unquestionably it’s Washington DC. Both are the countries’ seats of power. Pierre Charles L’Enfant, Washington DC’s designer and the French born and trained architect and planner, incorporated the best of Paris into Washington, to design a monumental city that would serve as one of the world’s most impressive capitols.  

If L’Enfant were jettisoned into the city now, he’d have heart failure. That’s also true for many returning expatriates.  What was not so long ago a small town is now an enormous metropolis which is mushrooming by the day. Relatively modest townhouses costing well over $500,000 are being erected in what I considered the countryside.  

There are new neighborhoods in Maryland and Virginia that are virtual cities and I’m not referring solely to Reston and Columbia. Even though there are one million subway riders per weekday (second only to New York City), there’s still much expansion on the books. A lot of people don’t come into DC except for work and many companies have moved their headquarters to the suburbs or even outside of the Beltway. Countless residents love living in the area, but it lacks something that’s become essential for me – a true sense of history.  

What irritates me is how much time I spend in the car. Drivers are currently complaining about the high cost of gas – which is still lower than what it costs in France.  However, I rarely use the car when I’m in Paris and it’s never an SUV.  Paris is the quintessential walking city and you can pick up groceries along the way.  In DC, I feel as if I’m shuttling between the apartment where I’m staying and the grocery store.  Even though there are hypermarchés peppered throughout France (usually located in unattractive industrial warehouse-looking shopping centers), collecting rebate coupons in the US seems like this year’s sport.  Points are a very big thing here.  I buy groceries where miles are credited to my United Airlines account.  

It’s come to the point where I consider my time in the US as a cultural exploration. New TV shows to watch, new restaurants to discover and a different way of thinking.  One of the pluses of being here is meeting people from other countries with embassies here, the World Bank, the OECD, the State Department and other international agencies and “think tanks.”  

This trip has another motive. I’m not leaving here without being introduced to my new grandchild. She or he will be my second; my 3-year-old granddaughter is the love of my life. I can’t wait until she can come to France on her own. If time continues at such a gallop, it won’t be long.  

© Karen Fawcett