The emigrant's farewell

"I think on its valleys with fond admiration
though never again its bright hills I will see
I'm bind for to cross the wide swelling ocean
in search of fame and fortune and of sweet liberty"

Cara Dillon


Up until maybe twenty years ago, moving to another country meant you really left. And generally, for good. You would say goodbye to all your friends and family, fully aware that your means of staying in touch would be limited to writing letters and maybe a phone call at Christmas and on your birthday, and get on a boat or a plane, without knowing if you would ever have the money to "go home". Even though I'm obviously not as old as some of the immigrants who left Ireland after the potato famine, or as the Europeans who left for the new world after the second world war, I distinctly remember moving overseas before the advent of the Internet, when an airplane ticket anywhere would involve selling a newborn, and a phone call was so expensive, you would set your egg timer for three minutes before dialinghome, and still have an aneurysm when the phone bill came in.

Nowadays, with the ease of the Internet, it's so easy to think that emigrating to another country is nothing more than moving to the next town, or a few hundred miles away at most. Calling home has become so cheap, your relatives will frown and wonder about you when you don't call home on a regular basis. There is no getting away with odd hairdoes or intense assimilation into your local culture either, as you can actually talk to and see your relatives through your webcam. Since you can now fly home for almost a nickel and a dime, there is no getting out of Christmas either, just as there is also no excuse for not staying up to speed with the Dutch news, or letting your native tongue slide just a hair, as there are millions of Dutch websites you can visit every day.

But somehow, none of that has made moving overseas any easier, at least for me. If nothing else, it has almost made it harder. When you think about it, there is the true emigrant's experience does not really exist anymore.
For one thing, there is no more real farewell. Sure, you say goodbye, but you know full well that once you get off the plane, you can get on Facebook, or Twitter, or Skype, and talk to the people back home as though you never left. And there exactly is my problem; you have left. You are now living in a new country, with new rules and customs, a new language, and a whole host of things you have to learn and adjust to. But how can you adjust to your new life when you have the ability to act as though never left your old one? When you can still chat with your old friends, and order Dutch goodies, and read Dutch newspapers every day? When you can fly home on a whim?
And on the flipside, how are you going to deal with that sense of homesickness that is inevitably going to come? A homesickness that few people will understand because well, there is the Internet. And you can talk to your friends, parents, and old neighbors through Skype, and so there should be no reason to miss them, right? Exactly. Only there is, but you won't be able to really put your finger on it. And more importantly, how can you get over missing the polder, or the dykes, or the canals, or the Dutch cows, or the bicycles, when you can look them up online?

I'm not saying we should go back to the days of the steamtrunk, the big boats, and the dramatic farewells on the docks of Rotterdam, and Cherbourg, and Derry. But sometimes I think our lives could be a lot less complicated.

Days turning from red to green
It's hard to believe that spring
Is here so soon and I've been gone so long

Keep sending your letters on
Memories of home are still
Haunting my days and I am losing my way

High tide, changing moods
Familiar faces I know
High tide, changing light
Familiar places I'll go

Keep playing out my favorite song
Cause sometimes I sing it so loud
I'm praying that you might hear
And sing along

Days turning from sweet to dry
Memories of home are still
Haunting my days and I'll wait for your reply

High tide, changing moods
Familiar faces I know
High tide, changing light
Familiar places I'll go

High tide ~ Cara Dillon