The difference between an Expatriate and an Immigrant
An immigrant is someone who intends to reside permanently, and not a casual visitor or traveler. Immigration means “in-migration” into a country, and is the reverse of emigration “out-migration.”
An expatriate (in abbreviated form expat) is someone temporarily or permanently in a country and culture other than that of their upbringing and/or legal residence. The word comes from the Latin ex (out of) and patria (country), and is sometimes misspelled as ex-patriot, due to its pronunciation.
The difference between an expatriate and an immigrant is that immigrants commit themselves to becoming a part of their country of residence, whereas expatriates see themselves, and are perceived, as living in a foreign land.
Question: So what am I then?
Am I an immigrant who has triumphed over xenophobia, learned to camouflage with the locals and embraced willingly the idiosyncrasies of the Dutch? Or am I an expatriate who always sees that tiny bridge between me and the Netherlands?
Flags of the Philippines and the Netherlands.At this point in my life, I can honestly say --- BOTH. I am an immigrant and I am an expatriate. Thus, I am an expatmigrant.
In looking back, I think I have marshaled my best behavior in discovering, observing, understanding, learning and integrating, and still continuing though, into my new country. And being an extremely open minded person, I also made sure to present a complementary tolerant attitude. At some point, I felt that I have become a real erudite of the Dutch culture.
Many people have also told me that I am so un-Filipino in my philosophy of life, [yeah even way back then when I was still living in Manila]. I usually just shrug these comments off, nonchalantly. The point is I never felt un-Filipino anyway.
Notwithstanding all the above, I still can’t help but feel and think foreign in this country. I know, 3.5 years isn’t enough but I honestly do not see myself in the next 10, 20 or 30 years identified as a Dutch vrouw [woman], even if I will have a Dutch passport. Technically I will be, but in the matters regarding to my state of mind, I think I will never be.
Hmm... wait.... perhaps in the long run, I will become a baffling mix breed of Ms. bulad [dried fish] and Ms. kaas [cheese]. Ah, such lovely combination for breakfast!
ANYWHO...
One night, at home after dinner, I was browsing online at several real estate portals in the Philippines. New development projects seem to be sprouting like beans all over Manila. Dutchman on the other hand was sitting across me in the living room, his laptop, like mine, buttressed on the armrest of our black leather sofa.
Without thinking properly and just going through the motion of my adopted spontaneous mood, I blurted out, “I can make a lot of money buying, developing and selling small houses and condominiums in the Philippines.”
Dutchman paused, looked at me and frowned. “But you are here in Holland, how can you do such business?” He asked, somewhat defiantly.
“Oh yeah, you’re right…” I said, staring blankly at him.
“Holland is now your home baby.” He said firmly but in a very reassuring tone while beckoning me with his arm to come and sit beside him.
Moving towards the Dutchman and still lost at the thought of where is home, I muttered, “It is… but it is not.” ---I felt a sudden wave of confusion engulfing me.
Quite complicated isn’t it?
Since we are conditioned to have 1 home, it seems paradoxical to feel, think and belong to 2 homes. Your mind struggles to choose a single home, but you know you just can’t.
I guess this is the pragmatic reality when juggling identity between 2 countries and 2 cultures. It becomes a crisis, an identity crisis. It’s like that tug of war game, sometimes you are thrown to the left, sometimes pulled to the right, and other times, you just want to let go.
