America Monster - Steppenwolf

How To Escape From America

My cousins were hiking in Washington State when they came upon this sign. It says

"WARNING
United States Boundary
This is an Unlawful Pedestrian
or Conveyance Crossing
Violators are Subject to Arrest,
Fines and or Forfeiture of
Property
US Customs and Border Protection
Please Report Suspicious Activity to
1-800-218-9788
U.S. Border Patrol"

So of course they braved the possible minefield and sensor nets surrounding this sign and ALLEGEDLY traipsed back and forth across the border. They also ALLEGEDLY experimented with that strange limbo of having half their bodies in each country.

"Allegedly" is a journalistic term of art that will protect us from overzealous law enforcement agents seeking to use this instructable as evidence.

Then they went back home to the U.S., but they could have kept going into Canada carrying a cargo of books which are banned there but not here or attempted to work there illegally. They could have tried to enroll in a free Canadian University or attempted to get medical care at some free Canadian clinic and generally become a "burden on the Crown." That's the sort of thing that borders were invented to prevent.

The Canadians didn't put up their own sign though, recruiting informants and warning about how they'll punish violators. 

Narrative.ly / By Sheela Raman

 188 COMMENTS

Allergic to America: I Had to Move Away Because Life in the US Was Making Me Ill

My parents immigrated to an America of unbridled hope and prosperity. 40 years later, I discovered a work culture so stressful it made me physically ill. So I left

 

 

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January 29, 2014  |  

 

The following first appeared on Narratively, a platform devoted to untold human stories. For more great content please visit narrative.ly.

A few weeks ago, I found myself strolling through Hyde Park with an English friend. It was one of those rare, glorious, sunny London days. The water of the Serpentine glimmered as people lounged along its banks, having low, murmuring, exceedingly civilized conversations. My friend, who grew up in this city, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Do you smell it?” he asked. “That smell—such an English autumn smell, sweet and woodsy and damp. I’ve known it since I was five. Isn’t it lovely?” When I inhaled as he did, I found myself unable to share his delight. I suddenly remembered the joy of hiking in a park or forest of the northeastern U.S., breathing in the refreshingly crisp, almost biting fall air, gazing in rapture at the fiery elms and oaks as dry leaves crackled underfoot. Before I could smile back at my friend and continue the day, I had to shake off a pang of sorrow at having abandoned the country of my birth.

For someone like me, the daughter of Indian immigrants, it hurts to let go of America. It is the country that, after all, saved my father. He grew up in the southern Indian city of Chennai, caught between warring factions in a chaotic post-independence atmosphere. The old Brahmin elite, which his family was a part of, vied with the newly elected socialists, who saw Brahmins as evil co-conspirators with the British Raj. As a child, my father had stones thrown at him on the street, and, later on, saw his older brother denied entrance to medical school solely on the grounds of caste. In 1970, when he was twenty-two, my father left for America, hoping to avoid such nightmares.

At that time, the United States only allowed select Indians who showed quantifiable academic or entrepreneurial promise to obtain visas. When he got his, my father rejoiced at joining this golden set who had the chance of living in what he and many of his peers perceived as the most powerful nation in the world, where social class did not matter and talent and hard work could allow a person to transcend any kind of difficult circumstance. When he arrived at the University of Tulsa in Oklahoma, where he had been granted a fully funded master’s degree in chemical engineering, his first impressions surpassed his expectations. He fell madly in love with America. The frank warmth of the American people and the youthful energy of the hippie movement charmed him. He donned bellbottoms and grew a handlebar moustache, and soon found himself enjoying the attentions of Oklahoma women who told him he looked like Omar Sharif.

He also took full advantage of the meritocratic system. By the late 1970s he had finished graduate school, found a stable job as an executive at AT&T, and was able to go to India to marry (an arranged match, as per tradition) and bring my mother back with him. She finished her graduate degree in the States, too, and started working as a software developer—a harbinger of the Indian IT wave to come. A few years after my parents arrived in America, I, their first child, was born in the U.S.A. It gave my father great pride to know that I was a full-fledged, natural-born American citizen. As he guided me on my training-wheeled bicycle in our suburban New Jersey neighborhood, or threw a Wiffle ball to my bat, he would often tell me, with great zeal and optimism, about the endless possibilities I had. I admired my charismatic father and as I grew up under his influence, I began to feel his same devotion to the quintessential American values of freedom, individuality and hard work. I applied these values fervently to my own life, and, as I got older and discovered in myself an inclination for writing and an insatiable wanderlust, my version of the American dream became clear to me. I would become a journalist who worked for a major newspaper or magazine, and traveled the world as part of her job.

My faith in America convinced me that as long as I worked hard enough and with integrity, nothing would block my path. It was only in my early twenties that I was forced to question whether America was really going to support my aspirations as it had supported my father’s. After I graduated from Brown University in 2006 I took my first job as a general assignment reporter for The St. Petersburg Times (now Tampa Bay Times) in Florida. It is a well-regarded paper with multiple Pulitzer Prizes to its name, and for young reporters, it is considered a stepping stone to a job at the Washington Post, whose editors are known to scout for talent there. I felt thrilled to have landed this position.

When I arrived in Florida, I found that my apartment building stood right across from a store selling Bibles and Christian fundamentalist paraphernalia. Just down the road was a strip club called Kissin’ Cuzzins. This was a far cry from the liberal Northeast I had left behind, but I knew that dramatic scene shifts were to be expected in the life of a journalist. I looked forward to that sort of adventure.

I started the job with the fresh enthusiasm of an ambitious post-graduate. Every morning at eight a.m. I greeted my bureau editor, ready to go out, “chase down” stories and write two, sometimes three articles per day. By nine I was out in my car, driving from one end of the county to another, frantically gathering details for these stories so I would have enough time to crank them out before the end of the day. My boss expected more output from his new hire than his more established reporters, and I soon found myself leaving work later and later in the evening. At first, I did not as much as cast a glum look when I found myself alone at the office at nine p.m. “It’s fine, I thought as I downed my third coffee of the day and unwrapped a health food bar, my substitute for dinner. “This is what you do at the beginning. Pay your dues.” Overtime, in my mind, was a normal aspect of life as a young professional in America.

I tried to keep up, but after three months on the job I started to grow exhausted in a way I had never been before. Even after eight hours of sleep I struggled to get out of bed in the morning, and I needed more and more coffee to get through the day. At first I tried to manage this energy drop myself. I took extra vitamins, tried to get to bed at a reasonable hour and waited to feel better. I didn’t. Instead, new symptoms appeared. A nauseous, dizzy feeling started to seize me at inopportune moments in the workday. The right side of my body started to tingle and go numb.

In spite of my desire to conceal my condition and get on with my job, I wanted to at least confide in someone. I hesitated at first, because I felt I had no safe confidant to turn to. My hardworking parents had made me feel abundantly lucky to have landed a salaried job in my field of choice immediately after graduating; I did not want to disappoint them by revealing that I was falling apart, somehow failing to take full advantage of this plum opportunity. I did not dare reveal my plight to my Brown friends either, who were now scattered around the country and world. Though creative and different from stereotypical type-A overachievers, they were all achievers nonetheless, and there was always a tacit understanding among us that we could find a way to prevail over any obstacle in our way. There was no way I wanted to out myself as the weak one, physically incapable of winning at survival of the fittest.

As I continued to work long hours with scant time to recuperate, my symptoms worsened to the point that I felt my ability to do my job would soon be threatened. I began to fear, as I struggled to walk for twenty minutes on the treadmill (I was previously able to run four miles at a stretch) that there was something seriously wrong with my health. Once or twice, I did try discussing my worn-down state with a few colleagues. Although I had never heard any of them talk about personal dilemmas even at off-duty house parties, I hoped they might be willing to comment in some meaningful way on the fact that I had dropped about eight pounds, that there were now blue-black hollows under my eyes and I had stopped being my usual fun-loving self, declining social invitations.

However, as soon as I uttered my woes to several of them at a dinner after work, I knew I had violated an unwritten code. My colleagues blushed. They looked uncomfortably down at their plates. One of them finally said, “The editors all love the work you’re doing. You’re making a great impression. Just keep it up a bit longer.” When I expressed my worry that I might not be able to go on at this rate, they looked at each other and kept silent. Some force of denial seemed to prevent them from acknowledging the very possibility of someone who was unwell and in dire need of a break, or at least a more reasonable regime.

After that dinner, as we all got into our separate cars and made our way home, I felt miserable, full of self-loathing for being an overly fragile wimp. But as I drove back home in the dark, a feeling of indignation slowly crept in and crowded out my despair. I felt I did not deserve to feel so miserable after confessing my predicament to my colleagues, and I was shocked that their reluctance to address my condition mirrored my own embarrassment about it. If it had been one of them to complain instead of me, I might well have acted just as they did. I would have felt I had no space in my busy life to accommodate another’s health problems. And, on some level, I would have judged the person for not being tough enough.

I had always seen myself as tough enough. According to the identity I had assumed from childhood, I was an invincible heroine who could handle whatever work was needed to pave the way to her own version of the American dream: a job at a major newspaper or magazine. My experience in Florida was showing me that I simply, physically, was not the person I had imagined myself to be, and for the first time, as I arrived home that night with my head pounding and muscles aching with fatigue, I began to realize I should not be ashamed of that fact. I sensed that something was wrong with how America had turned work into a cult-like religion that superseded care for the self and for others. I realized that in my current situation, the best way to be tough was to stop playing my part in the game, get over my fears, accept what I was going through and talk with my bosses about it.

I made a doctor’s appointment so that I would at least be able to give a concrete diagnosis to my editors when I spoke to them, but the doctor dismissed my symptoms as “just stress.” This perplexed me, and I determined to continue on in the job while deciding how best to broach the subject. I would not have the chance.

While returning from an assignment one evening a week or so later, about seven months into my Florida stay, I lost all navigational bearings while driving along a local highway. My brain had suddenly turned into a mess of misfiring synapses, and my limbs felt like they were moving through sticky molasses. I somehow managed to swerve to the shoulder of the road. When I shut off the engine, my hands were shaking, and I leaned out the window and vomited. I could not remember how to get back to the office.

This was game over. I had no choice at that moment but to phone the bureau from my cell and mumble what had happened. A photo intern was sent to help me get home. I then rang up the editor who had hired me and finally explained that I had been feeling increasingly unwell over the past months. He was shocked at my tale of suffering, since I had been performing so well. I told him that as things stood I unfortunately would not be able to keep up that performance for much longer, and asked for a decrease in my hours, at least until I sorted myself out. Disappointingly, he said that it would not be possible to do that, since if he did such a favor for me he would have to do it for everyone. He did offer me a week of paid vacation to see if that helped set me right. I flew back home to Princeton, where I lay in bed, ate soup, and tried to read books. At the end of the week I felt no better. Even if I had been able to transfer bureaus, it would likely not have mattered by that point. It was too late. As my family finally understood when they saw me, I was in fact seriously ill. I had no choice but to leave the Times.

The standard treatment in the U.S. for Hashimoto’s is thyroid replacement medicine (typically a brand called Synthroid), which ostensibly makes up for the destroyed thyroid cells. When I discovered that this treatment did little to ease my symptoms, my parents insisted that I keep trying different doctors, believing that the American medical system would eventually solve the problem. I saw five more specialists who each tried different combinations, brands, and doses of thyroid medicine. Still no relief, and my thyroid antibody count was higher than ever. To rule out other possible causes, I consulted three or four highly rated New York City internists, who subjected me to endless blood work, multiple MRIs, a CAT scan and even a spinal tap. Two years after my initial diagnosis, one of them put me on a course of heavy-duty antibiotics to treat a possible Lyme infection that might have been triggering the autoimmune attack. The drug was too intense for my weakened state, and I ended up in the emergency room with a toxic liver. I survived, but felt more debilitated than ever before, and ready to quit doctors for good. In a last-ditch effort and an attempt to steer away from conventional medicine, I tried a cocktail of expensive vitamin supplements recommended by a well-known “holistic” MD. After that array of colorful pills and potions made my stomach revolt, I finally gave up. I threw out my pill bottles and told my family I was done. I was tired of punishing my body with drugs and procedures that cost thousands of dollars more than what was covered by my health insurance and only seemed to line the pockets of the doctors and insurance and pharmaceutical companies.I remained home in New Jersey and threw the little remaining energy I had into figuring out what had gone wrong with my health. The first four or five doctors I saw continued to tell me I suffered from “just stress” and recommended anti-depressants and sedatives, which I did not take. I now actively resisted the labeling of my condition as “just” stress. I had been under severe stress, for sure, but since the stress had contributed to a breakdown of my physical health, I felt it was not something that could be passed off as “just” anything, or merely psychological. At last, eight months later, in October of 2007, a more comprehensive blood test validated my suspicions. High numbers of auto-antibodies were circulating in my blood. These antibodies were attacking my thyroid and slowly destroying it. This phenomenon is a sure sign of Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, an autoimmune disease. I finally had an explanation for the debilitating fatigue, brain fog, constant stomach discomfort and assorted aches and pains. The doctor who discovered my disease told me that it was certainly no accident that I felt my first symptoms in Florida, while working unreasonable hours and, as a result, eating poorly and irregularly. Most of the time, he said, autoimmune disease is triggered by a stressful event or poor work-life balance.

My father, whose black moustache had grown increasingly white, and whose eyes now had bags under them from worry, encouraged me not to give up—it was too painful to accept that his once-dynamic daughter had been reduced to a semi-invalid. But by this point, my eternal optimism was starting to fail. I did not want to give up hope, but I felt I had to accept that my life in the way I had envisioned it was basically over .

In the midst of such grim contemplations, a friend who had recently moved to Florence, Italy, invited me to visit her. A change might help you, she wrote in her email. I remembered a two-week trip to France a year earlier, and the slight energy boost I had felt by the end of my time there. That might not have been a coincidence, I suddenly thought. I sold my car and bought a plane ticket.

Two weeks in Tuscany became three, then four. In that month, something happened which at that time I could only explain as a miracle granted by a benevolent Italian saint. I began to feel better. My stomach stopped reacting with cramps and pain to nearly everything I put into it. My brain was markedly less foggy. I felt sparks of creativity again—the beginnings of an idea for a short story. I flew home and presented myself, bright-eyed and five pounds heavier, to my family. My father viewed my refreshed countenance with satisfaction, but also a bit of chagrin. It was a slap in the face of his beloved America. “Go and live in Italy,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “What choice do you have?” I subletted a tiny room in an old Florentine building overlooking the Arno and started working as a private tutor, using the Italian I had learned in college to teach English to high school students. Slowly, as my strength continued to build, I started freelancing for magazines. I also began to understand more concretely why I felt so healed in this new country.

First there were the tangible reasons. It was clear to me that the rapid improvement of my stomach troubles, which had been a major aspect of my illness, had to do with my new Italian diet. Unlike the U.S., Europe has very strict laws when it comes to genetically modified foods (GMOs), pesticides and hormones in food. After a year of eating Italian foodstuffs, my rogue thyroid antibodies had dwindled to the normal range. I still had significant fatigue, but I felt once again that I had a chance at life. I would later learn from a German doctor that autoimmune disease is closely linked with gut trouble, which is often triggered by stress. Healing a weakened gut with a high-quality, GMO-free diet, he said, is the key to healing, and possibly even cure. It was not only an unhealthy attitude to work and a drug-happy, expensive healthcare system that threatened my well-being in the U.S., but also a loosely regulated food source: America had failed to heal me, and to nurture me.

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If I looked a bit harried as I walked down the street, a vigilant signora would sometimes stop me and say something like, “Stai tranquilla, cara,”—keep tranquil, dear—in a soothing, musical voice, or “Vai con calma”—go on your way with calm. Excessive stress and overwork were by no means considered de facto aspects of life in Italy. They were understood for what they are: serious threats to health. In Italy, I began to see more clearly the serious problem with American culture’s tendency to make work the supreme value. There may be some people who can withstand long days, all kinds of environments, and being available by text or phone at all hours, but there are plenty of people who cannot—or don’t want to—withstand such conditions. Unfortunately, American work culture does not offer such people an alternative. It’s true that the stress-phobic attitude of Italy, taken to an extreme, may have led the country to a recession much deeper than that of the U.S., but for me, the refreshing contrast of the Italian way was crucial to my recovery from chronic disease.There were also many cultural intangibles that helped me heal. Landing in Italy felt like switching from a splintery, unforgiving wooden chair onto a velvety divan. Italians understood illness. They wanted to nurture you out of it, and it did not make them squeamish. If ever I mentioned that I was battling a health issue, my Italian friends clucked sympathetically and were quick to suggest age-old, medicine-free remedies. Even strangers helped. I must have looked pallid one day as I bought my meat, because the butcher said, “Il brodo…fai il brodo!”—Broth…make broth!—and handed me a sack of cow bones. He then gave me his recipe for an exceptionally soothing beef bone broth, which I make to this day.

After two years in Italy I felt sturdier in my health and began looking for a way to stay in Europe that was more financially viable than tutoring and freelancing. After several months of searching, I found a job as a script editor for a U.K.-based film company and moved to London. Here I enjoy the same regulated food source as I did in Italy, a culture that is also less work-crazed than the U.S., free national health care and the additional benefit of a community of writers who speak English.

My family supports my decision to live abroad, but they themselves have not stopped living in the frenetic American way. Both of my parents continue to work long hours and take little to no vacation. This does not mean that their opinion of America is as rosy as it was when they first arrived. In a recent conversation with my father, he told me that my experience has shown him problems with America that he never fully grasped because he did not have to face them himself. The difficulties I ran into have made it clearer to my father that people and companies are often over-obsessed with their own success and profit, without realizing deeply enough that their own well-being is linked up with the well-being of others. I agree with my father on this, but at the same time I still believe, as he does, that there is an inexplicably magical quality about America. I look forward to a time when that magic can thrive again, in a country that is more balanced and supportive of the foundations of health. Until that happens, I will keep building my life on other shores.

Singer Tina Turner voluntarily relinquishes US citizenship

Like this article11

By Phyllis L. Smith Asinyanbi

Nov 15, 2013 in Entertainment

By Phyllis L. Smith Asinyanbi.

6 9 2 0Google +0

Berne - The iconic Tina Turner is no longer an American citizen. In October, she voluntarily relinquished her U.S. citizenship at an embassy in Berne, Switzerland.

In July, Turner, 73, married long-time partner and record producer Erin Bach after a 27-year courtship. They met in 1985, have been together since then and lived nearly 20 years in Switzerland.

Per the Washington Post, Turner became a Swiss national in April, and according to an Oct. 24 embassy report, states she has no strong ties to the U.S. other than family, is now fluent in German and has no plans to live in America in the future.

The eight-time Grammy award winner is known for her unique voice and popular songs: "What's Love Got To Do With It," "We Don't Need Another Hero" and "Proud Mary." Turner retired from performing in 2009.

Although the singer relinquished, rather than renounced citizenship, the consequences with the IRS are the same. Exit taxes are now due. (Read more about the process here.)

It is assumed that Turner may have relinquished citizenship for tax reasons, but this has not been confirmed. Another speculation is that she wanted to cut all ties with an abusive past.

According to Forbes, the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act doesn't simplify tax issues for Americans living abroad. FATCA is an enforcement tool requiring foreign banks to reveal American account holders. Many don't comply, because the requirements, reportedly, breach banking confidentiality laws.

France recently signed an Intergovernmental Agreement with the U.S. Global Tax leader at Deloitte Tax LLP’s Foreign Account Tax Compliance Initiative. Deloitte spokeswoman Denise M. Hintzke stated:

I just returned from Paris and the signing of this agreement has been especially anticipated by the fund industry there. The IGA and the implementing guidance which will follow should finally give financial institutions in France a clearer idea of what they need to do to be in compliance.

Tax attorney Andrew Mitchel reports a record high of 2,369 expatriates for 2013, with second highest numbers reported in 2011, CNBC reported.

Read more: http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/362167#ixzz2ktqDtQ8p

For Americans Wishing To Leave The United States, What Is The Best Country In The World To Move To?

By Michael Snyder, on March 15th, 2010

For those seeking to move outside of the United States, figuring out the best country to move to can be a very daunting task. There are a ton of social, cultural, economic and safety issues to be considered. In addition, those who have never been outside of North America should not underestimate the severe "culture shock" that can take place when moving to another nation. While moving outside of the United States may seem like an attractive alternative, the truth is that it is not easy and it is not something to be done lightly. But there have been many Americans who have done it successfully and are now loving life. Our recent article, "Is Moving Out Of The United States A Way To Escape The Coming Economic Collapse?", generated some really great comments about what various areas of the world are like for Americans who move there. Today we wanted to share with you some of those comments. These commenters have some very strong opinions about where the best places for Americans to move to are, but the reality is that each person and each situation is different so keep that in mind as you read these....
Saigonbrian:
I’ve lived in China, Vietnam, and am currently living in Malaysia for the last few years. I’ve also traveled extensively during that time. Given the likely future problems in the US it’s certainly prudent to at least evaluate an alternative.
Our top two choices would be New Zealand (NZ) and Costa Rica (CR) with Malaysia coming in 3rd. NZ and CR are both beautiful countries and pretty much self-sufficient in needed resources. English, of course, is the language of NZ and it is widely spoken in CR. Though if you choose a country where English is not the native language; you’d be way better off learning the local language.
Some other options would be: Thailand; a beautiful very expat friendly country. Indonesia, in particular Bali. Vietnam and Cambodia would be OK for the more adventurous and they are cheap, cheap. Australia is fine, though the prices are pretty much US level. Singapore is nice if you want to live in one big city. Malaysia is interesting. It tries very hard to get expats to retire there. They have a formal program called “Malaysia My Second Home” (MM2H). You apply for it, and if you meet the criteria, you get a 10 yr, unlimited entry visa. There should be no trouble renewing it. You need to keep about $30,000 USD in a local bank account, buy a home that costs at least $175,000 USD, and have an income of $3,000 a month. I suspect these requirements will lessen. The program is relatively new and the government hasn’t seem to have chosen which expat group they’re really targeting: rich foreigners, well off investors, or retirees with more modest moola. The country is beautiful and fairly cheap to live in. We have a gorgeous 5,000 sf apartment with great, modern security features. Did I mention it’s on the beach with amazing views. The cost? About $2,400 USD a month!! Our electric bill, and we run the aircon a lot; is $25 bucks. We haven’t used our health insurance yet, as we’d not hit the deductible limit and the prices are very cheap. And the quality of care is 1st rate. My daughter twisted her ankle recently so we put the system to the test. The initial exam by an orthopedic surgeon, xrays, and a soft cast cost about $35 USD! Follow-up visits with the orthopedic surgeon cost $9 USD! Pretty darn good. My primary concern? The worry that the country will become too islamic. It is the official state religion though now it does treat the Chinese and Indian minorities relatively fairly. I’m just not sure it can resist the tendency for islam to become more intrusive and radical. Hopefully not, but the jury is still out.
Overall I’d suggest doing some research and find a few contenders. Then go to these places for a vacation. That will give you some 1st hand data. One thing you notice living overseas is that Americans are the least adventurous, 1st world; folks. We need to get over that.
Bon voyage!
Gringo in Brazil:
I recently made the move to Brazil with my family based primarily on the social and economic factors I witnessed and experienced. In Michigan, I found my business drying up, my home value plummeting, the job market disappearing, etc. More importantly, if the youth I saw at the malls and high schools are any indication of the future leadership of our country; we are in serious trouble. With less than 50% of our youth even graduating from High School, how do we stand a chance.
Fortunately I speak fluent Portuguese so I am able to adapt. I am earning about $1,300/mo plus commissions which is enough for a simple apartment and living expenses. My wife is looking for the right job and should be able to earn about the same which will afford us a modest lifestyle.
Most Americans couldn’t cope with the heat, mosquitoes, open sewers, long lines, hellish traffic, and other cultural issues, unless they could afford to live in a luxury neighborhood and have a maid and personal assistant. However, the outlook here in Brazil is very positive. Most young people are investing in their education and advancement. I liken it to stepping back 70 years in our country and being on the verge of a great industrial revolution that I can be a part of. I have decided it is better to be starting at the bottom of the hill, climbing towards the top, then to be at the top and sliding out of control towards the bottom.
If you can afford it, do what my wife and I did, we took a two month “vacation” a couple of years ago, rented a furnished apartment and did a trial “residency” in which we had time to evaluate the pros and cons. When we moved here last month, we were well prepared, knowing what we were getting into, bringing along the necessary items and resources to be able to live relatively comfortably.
If you can master the native language sufficiently (or take an immersion course when you arrive for 6 months), you can often get a job at a language school, or company needing bi-lingual workers or professionals. Best bet is to scour the classifieds online ahead of time so you have something guaranteed when you arrive.
Kenneth:
Australia is the best country in the world to live in. This is the statement of Australians who have been to USA and other countries. It is what USA used to be years ago. It will be a few years before Australia becomes like USA. USA has left its Christian roots and I am afraid there are those who will make sure it never goes back.
AsiaExpat:
Singapore is the best place to live and work. It has a real future and very reasonable taxes. Peaceful, modern, they even speak English (kind of). Bring your best attitude and a necktie, because you have to work and you have to be kind to your neighbors. Who wants to be cloistered nervously behind a wall, anyway?
Bill:
Best places as far as quality of life? Social Democratic countries like Scandanavia- Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark.
If language is a problem Canada would be the closest best choice, then Australia, New Zealand, and for Central America, Costa Rica would be the number one choice for climate, civility, medical care and a beautiful environment.
For most places that provide good quality of life, expect to pay high taxes, which most civilized countries, yours excepted, equate with civilization. I’m afraid you folks are letting your inherent selfishness, ignorance of other cultures, militarism and a “screw you Jack, I’ve got mine” mentality destroy you.
Better than moving, stay there and try to turn things around. You have too much that is still good to lose it all. We’re all hoping-well, your firends are anyway- that you’ll pull out of this before its too late.
Time is running out folks.
Mongoos:
Not all Americans are “ugly Americans.” We are guests in the host country and most expats act as such. I retired in Sept 2009 and plan on living, teaching, and writing in Thailand. I have lived and worked overseas before, so this is nothing new for me. You make do and blend in and stay out of trouble. Leave your attitudes and preconceptions at the door when you check in. Otherwise, you will be creating problems for those of us who wish to live in peace and enjoy the pleasures of a different culture.
James:
There are over 100,000 Americans living in Costa Rica and loving it. Things are getting stronger here everyday and in most schools they teach English for half the day and Spanish for the other. The majority of the people like Americans and if you want to have it shipped here you can get everything here that you can get there. WalMart is the largest retail chain here as well as there.
This week Costa Rica moved ahead of the US in medical care. A huge % of the national income is from Medical Tourism. They are using adult stem cell treatment here to cure MS, Heart Decease, diabetes, Spinal Cord Injuries, Cancer and many other conditions. A good source for getting information on Costa Rica is the Association of Residents of Costa Rica.
http://www.arcr.net
They have a seminar once a month that brings in Doctors, Lawyers, Dentist, Shippers, Realtors, Investment Councilors and many other experts to brief you on the pros and cons of moving to Costa Rica. There are many communities here that are all American and the “Culture Shock” is nonexistent. The weather is perfect and they have never had a hurricane.
Bruce:
We moved to the French Riviera 10 years ago when we retired. Cost of living here in Nice is much less than New York or any other major American city. We’re on the sea, a big plus, near Italy, also a big plus, and we enjoy terrific food that we can afford. The medical system in France is incomparable and truly inexpensive compared to the U.S. We calculated our fixed living expenses for the year: it came to 11,000 Euros, or about $15,000 for all our taxes, medical coverage, utilities, condo fees, dentistry, etc. We live in a 2 bedroom top floor condo with a very large terrace and 2 balconies. There’s plenty of money left for travel, dining out, movies, and quick jaunts up to London and Paris for culture and ethnic food (especially London). Don’t regret the move at all.
John:
I moved to Ensenada Mexico in 2000. It was the best thing I ever did for my future because there is no future in America. I now enjoy more freedom than I ever had in the US. Spanish is easy to learn and the people are much more friendly here. There are lots of ex-pats here also. In the coming years the US is going to be the worst place to be. Escape now while you still can.
AmericanInOz:
I am an American that immigrated to Australia in 2001 (after Bush took office). My wife and I didn’t like what we saw coming. Politically, culturally, financially and socially.
When Big Media first started covering the US’s economic problems here in 2008 they drug out the old phrase “When America catches a cold Australia gets a flu”. Two plus years on and this couldn’t be further from the truth. The economy here is going great guns, and demand from Asia and a better government are a good part of the reason.
House prices are having solid gains every year, unemployment is reasonably steady, and the federal reserve is trying to raise interest rates to cool the economy (.25% again today)
To that point, the government here doesn’t subsidise 30 year fixed mortgages the way they do in the US, so they can still manage the economy by slightly manipulating interest rates. The longest you can fix a mortgage for is 5 years, at a very high premium, so most people don’t.
America has become an after thought, if not the laughing stock, of many Australians. It saddens me to see how far everything has fallen over there. I no longer try to defend the US or the American people. The time for real public outrage passed many years ago, and I have not only given up on the government, but also on the people themselves. So many dear family and friends spend their lives watching TV while their freedoms, lifestyle, culture and wealth were/are being destroyed around them. Ignorant and apathetic to the realities of the real world. Living with some strange notion of the past as if it represents the present.
Not all is doom and gloom here. And although it could still come, if it does it will have little, if nothing at all, to do with the problems in America.

American's reasons for leaving US are changing

Friday, January 18, 2013

American's reasons for leaving US are changing

Photo Credit: Beverly & Pack

The US is a great country. The freedoms there are wonderful, the people are warm, the "can do" attitude is great (you'd be surprised how American the "can do" attitude is) and when there's a natural disaster in the world, Americans are often the reaching deep into their pockets to help others. For all of the negative press the US receives, there are a lot of good things about the country.

And then there are the other bits.


It used to be that Americans were moving to other countries for adventure or love. Now the motivation to be an expat seems to be changing. I'm getting a lot of email from people saying they can't find a job or they're worried about the future of America. In fact, as far as I can tell, US expats are now starting to feel the push factors of emigration far more than in the past. Emigration for US expats used to be about adventure, love, or a new job abroad. More and more it seems to be about Americans trying to get out. And why would they? Well, here are ten reasons.

1. For the first time ever, the average Canadian is wealthier than the average American.
2. Half of all Americans are now low income or in poverty.
3. For the first time since the Great Depression, more Mexicans are leaving the US than entering it.
4. The percentage of young Americans graduating from university has dropped from first to twelfth place in the world (pdf).
5. The American dream of upwards mobility turns out to be true in just about every other major country except the US.
6. The US has gone from one of the developed world's lowest infant mortality rates to one of the highest.
7. US median income has fallen 7% in the past decade.
8. Personal bankruptcies have quadrupled since 1980 (pdf).
9. The US is again threatening to default on its debt and ruin its AAA credit rating.
10. And let's talk about violence.

US versus OECD nations deaths from violent crimes
Source: KIERAN HEALY

No matter how you slice it, the US doesn't look as nice as it once did ... unless you live in the echo chamber of the US. If you don't get a chance to see the rest of the world first hand, it might be hard to appreciate just how nice it is. Yes, here in Europe you'll find that you live in a smaller flat, but at three times the population density, that's to be understood. Yes, here in Europe you'll find that you pay more in taxes, but when you add in the cost of your university degree, medical care and all of the other costs that are merged directly into much of Europe's taxes, I'm hard-pressed to say that your costs are that much lower in the US.

Ah, but you argue, I heard that average income in the US has been going up! Sure, sit down next to one of the Koch brothers and you are both, on average, multi-billionaires. That doesn't buy you a cup of coffee. And it turns out that the "average income" growth has seen the wealthiest 1% of Americans taking in 93% of income growth. You're still getting poorer.

One person who wrote to me has been out of work for three years. Another person is graduating college with debt and no job prospects. Frankly, I wouldn't have believed this a decade ago, but others are noticing this trend. People aren't just seeking adventure, they're trying to escape.

6 Reasons Your Plans to Move Abroad Might Not Work Out

ByC. CovilleAugust 15, 20111,199,916 views

 

 

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If you hang around Internet message boards, about once a month or so somebody will announce they're fed up with America and want to move abroad. The reasons vary: they want to escape to Canada to get away from the corrupt corporations, or they fear a President Bachmann. Maybe they want to go to Japan and get a job as President of Anime.
I have some experience with this, because I, too, heartlessly abandoned my home nation, moving from Australia to the United States after a prolonged land battle with immigration and before that, spent a large part of my life in countries other than my own (including several years in Europe, a stint in Japan and another at an international high school in Thailand).
The experience has left me with an accent somewhere between "speech impediment" and "the blonde chick from Fringe after a few drinks" and also with this piece of wisdom for anyone planning on ditching the U.S.: You might be better off spending your airline ticket money on whiskey, because chances are your plans for a new life abroad are not going to work out.
Why? Well, for a start ...

#6. The People There Probably Don't Want You

Not that we want to single out anime fans, but they serve as a good example for this. It's not hard to find young anime fans dreaming of living in Japan, because if anime gets them ostracized as nerds in the West, why, moving to Japan would be like going home! It's all anime over there, all the time. And it's just assumed that Japan will be thrilled to have them. After all, here is a Westerner who gets Japan! Welcome, American!

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"It is so refreshing to meet a grown man who truly appreciates our children's cartoons."

But if these people do move to Japan, they quickly figure out that as much shit as they may have gotten for anime fandom in the USA, it's much worse there. To the average Japanese person, the words "adult anime fan," or "otaku," conjure less admiration and more an image of someone who sleeps between a hentai-print body pillow and the decomposing bodies of his parents. When the tsunami caused the cancellation of an anime convention, the Governor of Tokyo said they "deserved it" (he's a big advocate of new laws that restrict the sale of anime to young people). He was then re-elected.

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"I hope they're pulled down headfirst by their cosplay wigs."

If you move there because you dream of working in anime, you'll find that young animators are currently getting paid a whopping average of $11,000 year to work in an industry that's rapidly dying. If you go outside in any non-urban area in Japan while being non-Asian, you're going to be openly pointed to, laughed at and honked at by passing cars as if to say, "You are a foreigner! Let me remind you of this!"

"It was adorable. He put cat ears on, brandished some chopsticks and started crying."

But that's just one example. In Korea, it's not rare for foreigners to get spat on in public, and discrimination is so widespread and accepted that mixed-race people were banned from serving in the military right up until 2006.
Meanwhile, African-American and Asian travelers to Eastern Europe routinely report things like getting bottles thrown at them and having locals show them their swastika tattoos.

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That's Kanji for "douchebag."

Even in "tolerant" countries like the U.K. and New Zealand, Americans of all colors can still count on strangers yelling at them in public and targeting them with anti-American graffiti.

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We didn't know we were unweal.

Of course, that's assuming you actually get into the country in the first place, which you probably won't. That's because ...

#5. Their Governments Don't Want You, Either

On one hand, every American knows immigration is a struggle -- we have iconic old-timey images of people huddled on boats drifting up to the Statue of Liberty after a months-long journey, and we know that illegal immigrants risk death to cross the desert and sneak across the border. So, Americans realize that getting into America is hard. But when we get fed up with our own country and talk about how, "I'm just going to move to (New Zealand/Canada/France/Japan) and get away from all this!" we tend to talk like the hardest part is buying the plane ticket.

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"Damn you to hell, Expedia.com!"

It's as hard, or harder, to get into other countries as it is for foreigners to emigrate to America. Most countries have strict entry requirements that you can't get past by explaining that you really, really want to come in. Immigration to Canada, Australia and New Zealand works by giving "points" to immigrants who have skills or other things that the country needs. For example, New Zealand and Canada have lists of "preferred professions," most which require college degrees and years of experience.
They'll also look at things like your criminal history, "character" and whether you have any medical problems they might have to spend money on. Things work pretty much the same in Australia, although there you can gain extra points by agreeing to live for a set amount of time in an isolated, economically disadvantaged rural area.

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"No Netflix or Hulu? To hell with my horizons."

If your dream is the European Union, the news is even worse. People applying for a work visa not only need to prove that they're better suited for the job than anyone in the country, but also more suited for it than anyone in the entire European Union. Oh, and then there's the high unemployment and the fact that most of the EU residents you're competing against will speak, like, six languages.
Of course, moving to these countries is not impossible -- people do it occasionally. The problem is that the negative things in your life that are likely to make you want to leave America and start over -- you're bored, you're stuck in a dead-end job, you don't like the cost of medical care, you want to smoke pot but the law won't let you -- are the same things that will bar you from entering anywhere cool.

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"Ooh, a washed-out loser? We'll get the red carpet."

And there's a cruel irony in the fact that most Americans don't even consider this. After all, one popular reason for leaving America is thinking that the people here are too ignorant, arrogant or uncultured. According to this complaint, these jingoistic Americans think they're better than anyone else, and think the world should love them just for being American. Who can stand to be around that?

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You can be happy in the knowledge that all answers were not respectful.

But in my own long emigration journey, I spent a lot of time among others who were also planning on leaving Australia. Everyone knew what they were up against, and were talking about digging up a long-lost ancestor to qualify to work in the European Union, or about auditioning for enough deodorant commercials to get a U.S. acting visa. But the majority of Americans who plan on leaving their country seem to assume that the hardest part of leaving is deciding which country to go to, like it's the same as planning a vacation.

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"So the plan is to be obnoxious for the first 14 years before retiring and putting the pics on Facebook."

In other words, they wind up making the same assumption as the rednecks they're trying to escape: that every other country, while filtering out filthy immigrants from elsewhere, will be thrilled to have an American. You know, because Americans are better than everyone else and the world should love your unemployed ass just for being one.
And if you're thinking about getting around all that legal stuff by sneaking in, keep in mind ...

#4. Other Countries Treat Illegal Immigrants Worse Than America

Recently, a celebrated journalist came out as an illegal immigrant in the New York Times, which became an opportunity for commentators to talk about on how badly the U.S. treats its illegal immigrants. Look, I'll be honest, Americans: I'm Australian, and I love my old country, but compared to you guys Australia is like that dystopian society in Children of Men.

Dingos would have been on that baby within minutes.

I knew a Japanese visitor to Australia who decided to take advantage of the laid-back locals and apply for a refugee visa. She was immediately escorted out of the country by two armed guards, probably after about half an hour of hearing their hysterical laughter. Afterward, Australia billed her for all three airline tickets. Back in 2009, Australia made a big deal about the fact that foreigners who applied for visa extensions would be given "bridging visas" instead of being thrown in a detention center in the middle of the desert while their claim was processed.

8ightdaysaweek
It was actually a gas station, and the guy who ran it was pleased for the company.

And things could be even worse. In 2010, an immigrant in Japan died after police tied him up, put a towel in his mouth, and abandoned him on a plane to suffocate. In England, where detention and deportation is mainly handled by private security firms hired by the government, a man died in a similar way while being deported, and another immigrant was killed when police serving a deportation order in her home wrapped 13 feet of tape around her head and face, suffocating her. The police were acquitted.

Public safety seems to have a different definition out there.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_19363_6-reasons-your-plans-to-move-abroad-might-not-work-out.html#ixzz2cyKjV3nc