One of the joys of living the ex-patriot (aka immigrantThe White House in Washington D.C. January 21, 1957AP!) life here in Mallorca is that you get to meet people from across the United Kingdom practically all the time. Think about it, if you were living in LondonManitoba scraped throug, Leeds or Liverpool, more than likely you would usually only mix with folk that were generally from the same area.
When you decided to migrate south to the Mediterranean, it may not have occurred to you that even your fellow Brits weren’t exactly the same as you were used to at home. I have to say that I find it touching that most of our Spanish hosts think that because we are British, we are all of the same mind, or of the exact same purpose under the benevolent gaze of Her Majesty the Queen. In fact, for that very same reason we are bound to be friends, or at least friendly with each other to the exclusion of all others. Sorry, wrong!
Most Brits living abroad are a little suspicious of each other. Think about it; we have here on this island a British community that approximates the numbers of a small British town. Yet in living here for the past two decades, I witnessed more petty jealousies, and illogical tribal posturingThe Hospital for Sick Children is preparing to accept up to 50 pediatric in-patients from most Greater Toronto hospitals — some from as far away as Newmarket and Oshawa — to make space fo, than I would have ever expected before I arrived here. Maybe that’s because we are domiciled away from home and living in an ex-pat bubble, indeed do we become afflicted with what can only be described as an embarrassing level of small town syndrome?RELATED: What's On Thursday 3 February and Friday 4 February
I’m not in with the ‘in’ crowd!
Here in Mallorca I have noticed that all those of us ex-pats who live outside the south-west corner of our island are certainly annoyed by the perceived, and let’s face it, real Palma centric nature of pretty much all that happens on the island. For the rest of us however, there is comfort in imagining that north of Santa Maria – you all race pigeons and never wear tights on a freezing Saturday night out on the town. Nevertheless, I do find it quite bracing that no-one will ever have a good word to say about anyone lest they get above themselves, in that time honoured, small town fashion.