Why do we always think that "ELSEWHERE" is better than our own country? (page 11 of 23)

The worst is when a foreigner tells us the truth about our country.

But first, the truth has to be true... or how do we know if it’s true! And then, for me, my country is here; I have a nationality I didn’t choose but keep, for lack of the courage to be an "apostate of all nationalities."

Hi Jean Claude, That vaguely rings a bell about Talleyrand—I think someone mentioned it to me before...

Best regards...

The worst is when a foreigner tells us the truth about our country.

But the truth must actually be true... or how do we know if it is? And then, for me, my country is here; I have a nationality I didn’t choose but keep, for lack of the courage to be an "apostate of all nationalities."

Clarification: when I say my country is here, I mean wherever I am—Brittany, Uzbekistan, the USA (no, I don’t go there since I refuse to visit Israel and a few other powerfully corrupt countries), Liechtenstein, Puglia in the heel of Italy, France (including overseas territories), Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha! (in Canada), Burlesque or Condom, Morocco...

Talleyrand = a clever but extremely twisted mind who, as I’ve already told you, managed to serve his own interests while serving those he worked for—right up to Napoleon I, who said to him: ... You’re shit in a silk stocking! ... Have a good evening, Temur, and see you soon. — Vietalier.

Would Napo Léon have been as rude as Nicolaïev Sarko-Premier?

No, it's Cambronne! When the British general addressed the surrounded Old Guard at Waterloo with "Brave Frenchmen, surrender!", he replied "Piss off, you idiot".

Damn! Did I get it wrong?

Yes, my dear Chnoupi! Napoleon’s retort to Talleyrand is historic and authentic; now, crude, I don’t know, but old Nabulione really let loose at his minister with full intent and good reason. Indeed, the Lame Devil—and I’m being crude too—was truly rotten to the core and had neither faith* nor honor! Best regards, — Vietalier. * : let’s recall that Talleyrand was also the Bishop of Autun between 1788 and 1791... which didn’t stop him, as a fine representative of the high clergy, from thoroughly enjoying the so-called weaker sex! ... There, he was right!!!!! No?

I don’t doubt your knowledge of history, and I’m terrible at it—except when it comes to everyday life. The lives of "great men" don’t interest me. Actually, it’s interesting to note that these so-called great men are often short in stature (Napo, Sarko, Hollande are well-known examples).

Some gossips claim that Corsicans are short because they were told, "When you grow up, you’ll go to work." 😏

As for Hollande, you can forget about him having the stature of a great man—figuratively speaking, and in pretty much any other domain, he’s a total zero. H I.

By the way, even if you were Corsican yourself, your reverse humor about Corsicans and work would show a healthy mindset, free of grumpiness or touchiness, which is all good and puts you in the "worth hanging out with" category. Note that I’m saying this without knowing if *I’m* even worth hanging out with!

And for a laugh, here’s a little bar joke: What’s the difference between the numbers 51 and 69? Answer: Only 51 smells like ANISE! The other one doesn’t quite have the same spelling or scent! ... I did specify it was a bar joke, so it’s lowbrow but not mean-spirited.

Pace e salute; warm regards from Vietalier.

As soon as I return to France, I tell myself, "it's better elsewhere." Wherever we’ve been, I feel a kind of lightness in living—less restriction, less pressure, less sadness—and I catch myself dreaming of somewhere else, of going to live somewhere else, a simpler life, more authentic, with colors, color everywhere, markets, clothes, homes, etc.!!! Meeting souls, real people, gentle and kind, and letting go completely of all this modernism, this technological excess, the indifference toward others, the confinement, the racism against the elderly in France, against the poor, the weak, the beautiful, etc... etc... fleeing the news, politics, jealousy, meanness, stupidity, greed. And in my moments of clarity, I tell myself that ultimately, there are pros and cons in every country, every city, and that the best of all worlds isn’t down here, perhaps. But also that you have to know how to COME BACK to better LEAVE again—but still...!!! IS IT BETTER ELSEWHERE?😏😏😏

It’s funny because I just got back from Budapest and had the same thought. Every time I return from a country, I don’t really think it’s better elsewhere because it depends on the country visited, and on the contrary, you can tell yourself that in France, we’re lucky, that we’re well off compared to others, and that our country is beautiful. But I find the French (sorry, my fellow countrymen) more and more annoying every time I come back from a trip: stressed, not nice, arrogant, sad. It’s been happening to me lately, no matter which country I visit. You don’t need to go far to realize that the people in some countries (even European ones) seem happier, less stressed. Is it being on vacation that makes us think people are nicer elsewhere? That’s possible! In any case, you notice it when you arrive in a country where you’re greeted with a cheerful "hello" in the local language, and then returning to France, the icy welcome—or even the lack of welcome—at the airport brings you back to our sad reality. I’m not sure the French are really that nice to tourists, convinced they live in the most beautiful country in the world. Actually, every country has its own beauties, whether in the people, the landscapes, or the culture. And as Jupitéria said, it’s good to Come Back to better Leave again.

Hello. And I still haven’t changed my mind......except that the idea of leaving for abroad is haunting my mind even more now! Oh, the most beautiful country in the world, France, well, not for me either. That would be a pretty narrow view of the world’s beauty. French-style chauvinism, I guess! It’s hard to make people understand that you can’t worship France, love it, and still want to stay—another odd and strangely limited perspective! A country rich in history, with undeniable heritage and cultural treasures, I’ll admit, and one that would do well to keep us hooked just like that! But no! I still dream of that *elsewhere*, and I fully intend to leave this arrogant one in its delusion of perfection.....because there’s so much to say about that too! Goodbye grayness and gloomy faces, hello to you, foreign lands, in your bright attire that makes life so simple and sweet.

When you're somewhere else, here will be somewhere else too!

Oh no! I still dream of that elsewhere and I fully intend to leave the arrogant one in its delusion of perfection... because there’s so much to say about that too! Goodbye gloom and long faces, hello to you, stranger, in your radiant light that makes life so simple and sweet.

A simple and sweet life because you’ll arrive from France with your French passport and money earned in France. Be careful not to bite the hand that feeds you. 😉

I’m responding to the original question in the thread:

For me, it’s not necessarily better elsewhere—it’s just different. That difference might suit us better, without it being "better" overall, just more tailored to who we are.

Plus, it depends on the "elsewhere." In really poor countries, I don’t think it’s better (it doesn’t exactly inspire me). I can recognize the good things we have in France, and I don’t assume it’s better next door. Actually, I’d even say the world is a bit messed up everywhere (yes, I know—I’m such a positive person 😉)—just not in the same ways. Some things are better, others not so much. It’s up to each of us to find the place that’s the *least* messed up for us, the one that fits us best, and that’s not always easy! You really have to know yourself, which ties into the idea of traveling within yourself that I read in this thread. I think traveling helps us get to know ourselves better...

Personally, some "elsewheres" appeal to me more than others, but that doesn’t mean they’re better—just that *I* might feel more at home there.

I’d love to try living in a country that attracts me for a while, just to test it out and, in a way, take another journey into my deeper self...

Hello there, stranger in your suit of light that makes life so simple and sweet.

Uh, how to put this—I’m afraid you might be in for some disappointment if you really believe what you wrote....

Hello,

Yes, no doubt.

Personally, I see several reasons for this tendency—which I experience and feel myself—to find the grass greener elsewhere. I’ll try to put it simply in a few words.

First, when I’m in a foreign country, I don’t feel accountable for what happens or is said there. It’s very comfortable. You might be annoyed by a practice, a way of doing things, or political choices, but at least you can observe them calmly from a distance, without feeling involuntarily associated with them. Being a foreigner is restful—it spares you from feeling responsible for something you disapprove of, saves face, and prevents shame. I love that.

Then, there are undoubtedly societal models, types of social relationships, and attitudes toward rules, laws, and the state that suit each of us more or less. For example, I struggle a lot with how the French typically relate to rules and laws. I’m very respectful of them, but I realize that in France, this isn’t the right way to act or live if you want to get by well. The rules are made *not* to be respected, and benchmarks are hard to find and assess. This applies to tax rules, for instance—those who follow them are the useful idiots, the losers in a game played by different rules. This feeling of not having the "user manual" for France, of being in perpetual discomfort due to my temperament—more liberal, poorly accepting of state-imposed moral norms, and believing they should be a matter of religion—also contributes to making the grass elsewhere seem decidedly greener.

Michel

I’m responding to the original question in the thread:

For me, it’s not necessarily better elsewhere—it’s different. That difference might suit us better without being "better," just more adapted to who we are.

It also depends on the "elsewhere." In truly poor countries, I don’t think it’s better (well, it doesn’t make me dream). I can recognize the good things we have in France, and I don’t imagine it’s better next door. In fact, I’d even say the world is a bit rotten everywhere (yes, I know, I’m such a positive person 😉)—just not in the same ways. Some things are better, others worse. It’s up to each of us to find the place that’s the *least* "rotten" for them, the one that fits them best, and that’s not always easy! You have to know yourself well, which ties back to the idea of traveling within yourself that I read in this thread. I think traveling helps you get to know yourself better...

For me, some "elsewheres" appeal to me more than others, not because they’re better, but because I might feel better there.

I’d love to try living in a country that attracts me for a while, to test it out and, in doing so, take another journey into my deeper self...

It comes back to what I was saying—that "elsewhere" suits you better!

But I’m the same in many ways. While I know we have a beautiful country with plenty of perks, France isn’t where I feel my best, and I love escaping it for all sorts of reasons (which I won’t get into here since it’s not really the topic, and I don’t want to spark a debate about France). I don’t necessarily see the grass as greener elsewhere in every way, but in some ways, yes, and there are countries where I feel more at ease, more like myself, etc.

Like you, I also enjoy the status of being a foreigner, a traveler, observing things and people. But even in France, I don’t always feel "integrated" and often observe things and people—just less so than elsewhere.

That said, there are places where I feel better, but I’m well aware that being on vacation in a country and living there are two very different things, so I don’t idealize life elsewhere.

Yes, there are many places in France where I feel like I’m absolutely abroad, actually... The south, where I hardly ever go, and... Le Mans, for reasons I can’t explain. 🙂 Still, the state’s centralism forces us to carry this misunderstanding and sense of otherness. Sometimes, it’s a burden.

Michel

But even in France, I don’t necessarily feel "integrated" and I often observe things and people, even if less so than elsewhere.

No, but I was talking about daily life, actually!

I don’t travel much in France, in the end.