Where to?

 But where do we flee to?

Our option was anywhere in the EU.

We began with Belgium because that’s the specific citizenship I have. My grandparents were from Belgium, my mother has citizenship even though she’s here and my brothers and I ‘inherited’ the citizenship. It felt only right that we begin our search for our Canaan there.

The languages there are daunting - Dutch, French and German. The weather is far from pleasant but would suit our daughter and I very well. We’re both very fair-skinned, don’t seem to feel the cold and I have already contracted a nasty condition called a Rodent Ulcer (a nasty cancer-like skin condition) from the strong sun here. Belgium as a nation is rated as one of the most boring places in the EU and the citizens are generally shy and keep to themselves. They also follow the rules of the land. My aunt has lived there for many years now and confirmed our research by questioning our decision on Belgium.

The general mood of the conversation was “I know you. You have a rebellious nature and that doesn’t sit well with these people. They’re introvert and being a foreigner’s going to be hard enough, add to that your adventurous and eccentric streak and you could really be outcast.”

Our decision to go to Belgium was confirmed to be correct going by this statement. To be sure though, we investigated that other country and that other city that calls to far flung lands like the lights on a far off shore to those lost at sea promising stability, happiness and comfort.

England. London.

The language was more amenable there’s no doubt - English, my first language and our family’s home tongue. The feel of the city upon research felt boiling with the possibilities of and exciting but risky life. The employment laws seemed good but a little volatile. The schooling didn’t appeal though. It didn’t seem very good at all and upon more research, it seemed better outside of the city in the more urban areas. This is going to sound odd, but England and London seemed full to the brim with foreigners. All kinds of foreigners have seemed to make the place home and many years back the heroes of the ruling people in my current country of residence also resided there. It sounds odd since I’d be joining the ranks of “foreigner”, but I didn’t want to be going to a country where any foreigner could get into with a little work and a few lies. There’s too much competition and not enough elbow room. I want to be productive and add to the wealth of the country I’m going to and not have to fight to do it. Besides, too many foreigners could mean too much trouble. Too many unemployed foreigners living off the land also means trouble.

We reverted our sights back on Belgium. The laws governing foreigners are far stricter and not anyone can saunter into Belgium, set up shop and hope for the best! There’s a correct and legal way to do things in Belgium and I was beginning to like that. The schooling quality is far superior to London. Our schooling here couldn’t compare. Not even private tuition would come close to what our little girl could receive in Belgium besides for the fact that I couldn’t afford private tuition!

Yes, I’ve been the rebel. Yes, I could still be the rebel but something’s changed…am I ill? Have I *shudder* grown up? I no longer relish in the excitement and over-bubbliness of an unrestricted economy and loose business laws and policing. I yearn for stability where the boundaries are set and the law ensures those boundaries are met.

Our family always has been, to a certain extent, only attending functions or gatherings if the mood takes us or if we feel obliged. I fancy myself as quite Bohemian.

Simply being in Belgium will satisfy my rebellious self. I will always be the foreigner. I will die being “that crazy foreigner” even if I don’t do the crazy.

Then there’s the violent crime that causes more death in my country of residence than in some war-torn middle-east countries. Everyone I know has been brushed if not directly, then indirectly by ghastly, senseless deeds. The chance of something horrid happening to any member of our family is more likely to happen in this country than in Belgium. Yes, there’s crime everywhere but the chances are more slender in Belgium. Who knows, perhaps they’ll even endeavour to catch the criminals there. In our country, only 1 in 20 murder cases ever end in conviction. In a very literal sense that means I can end a life willy-nilly and stand a 1 in 20 chance of ending up in jail for it. Pretty good odds if you’re a criminal.

In short I want boring.

Our worldly possessions, the beautiful home we so sought and finally found,  our heirlooms, trinkets and furniture, everything so hard gained and placed in our lives in those special places to convey just the right ambience. What to do with it all? Should we pack it all up and hoard it here like so many of our predecessors did? The amount of families who have their lives in a storage facility somewhere in the hope and want of returning someday would fill a city.

No.

As hard a decision as it was, we decided to rid ourselves of everything. We are fleeing the country after all! We will keep a few precious items and those items will go over with us, but we don’t intend ever coming back to stay so storing things here is pointless. The selling off of pieces of a hopeful life, a dream has been very hard but oddly liberating too! With each heirloom that goes back to a family member to treasure, with each item sold comes a slight sting and then a lightening of the shoulders.

The house, our home, is going to be a very big sting but a necessary one. Until the house is sold, our ship cannot sail. It is the anchor that holds us fast to this country and once released, signals our sails to bellow, our flags to fly and our journey to begin.

Ciao for now.