SO THIS WEEK, I finally booked a flight to the country of my dreams, Vietnam. Having been my foremost travel destination since my late teens (being an unashamed Vietnam War nerd), I will be officially touching down in Hanoi in just over a month’s time.

Words could not describe my excitement as the realisation finally hit home. There it was, in front of my face… confirmation of my booking aboard a Vietnamese Airlines flight. It was almost anti-climactic… too easy. There was still so much to do – vaccinations, itineraries, suncream and insect repellant.

And what did I do?
 I took a Snapchat of it.

Living and working in Abu Dhabi for the past two years has easily been the most bittersweet time of my life. To say I have a love/hate relationship with the country is an understatement. The blisteringly beautiful heat, the dust and sand in every conceivable crevice, the abundance of disposable income, and the embarrassment of disposable people. Most days I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. But the travel opportunities afforded by working in a tax free environment like the UAE are one the biggest draws to this emigrant lifestyle. I’ve visited far-flung places with an ease that, had I still lived in Ireland, would have taken months of planning and saving.

Snap-happy

With all of this travel, comes this newfound urge to inform my internet acquaintances of my every move across the globe. Many pawn it off as boastfulness, but I know that I am not alone when I say that on any of my travels, in the Gulf or further afield, my smartphone is close at hand. Documenting and recording my journeys via social media has almost become an automatic reflex; you find yourself unconsciously alert for the perfect “check-in” or the optimum selfie moment.

A quick glance at Facebook or Twitter assures me that I am definitely not the only perpetrator of such misdemeanors either. In fact, I can proudly claim that I am by no means the worst. We all have that one “friend” (often used in a very loose sense of the word) who provides us with such an unrelenting commentary that we could swear we’re actually travelling with them. Although a lot of it boils down to barefaced envy-baiting mixed with self-absorption, I do believe that there’s more to the craze than meets the eye.

It’s not all it’s cracked up to be

Whether it’s by choice or necessity, living (or travelling to an extent) in a foreign country is not all it’s cracked up to be. But, by God, we make a damn sure it seems so.

Living abroad, you can find yourself existing in a strange kind of limbo. You don’t necessarily want to be home, be it for lack of opportunities or a multitude of other reasons. But living abroad is by no means a “fix all” solution either. The family and friends you’ve spent most of your life with are hundreds, even thousands of miles away from you. You’re living in a strange land with an alien culture, and although you will adapt in time, it rarely fills the void created by what you’ve left behind.

What’s worse is when you return home. Having lived abroad for any substantial length of time, the life you return home to is never the same as the one you left. Although this is not necessarily a bad thing, the sense of displacement you feel in trying to adapt back to your old lifestyle when you return is terrifyingly unsettling. Whether you like it or not, your absence has shaped your identity, and it can be exceptionally difficult to readjust.

You now assume a plethora of new roles, all influenced mainly by your general absence. One thing is for certain, though, it’s not the figure you left behind. You’re now known as an “expat”, and it’s inescapable. You’ve missed the anecdotes, the nights out (both good and bad), and the moments of pure mundanity that you quickly realise how desperately you wish you were part of. The stories and experiences you bring to the table are no longer relatable, and you find yourself struggling to remember how conversation flowed so easily in the past.

You miss the moments you never thought were important

Part of the reason you move abroad is usually to ensure you don’t miss out on parts of life you could never experience in your home country; new cultures and experiences that were unattainable until now. But in your efforts to do so, you start to realise that no matter how amazing your new home may be, you miss the moments you never thought were important.

So perhaps we can be forgiven for excusing those “friends” we all have that can be a monumental pain in the arse when it comes to their online travels. Certainly, social media allows them to share important moments of their adventures with friends and family while simultaneously keeping in contact. But to the casual acquaintances, the “I haven’t spoken to them since school” group, rest assured that these photos are aimed directly towards you too.

And perhaps every grudging “like” given to yet another photo is exactly what they’re looking for. It’s a subtle form of affirmation, a kind of twisted confirmation that the decision they made in leaving the small things behind was justified.

Believe me, it’s tough to admit it. Emigrating is one of the boldest statements of independence a person can make, striking out on one’s own in the most extreme of fashions – and admitting defeat can be cripplingly humiliating. Make no mistake about it, the vast majority of photos posted and Snaps sent carry a pathetically vulnerable subtext: please feel jealous of me, or all of this is in vain.

So spare a thought the next time you see an annoying photo of that guy from school in Australia on a disgustingly picturesque beach with an offensive amount of hashtags. They may look like they’re having the time of their lives, but remember – they need you all to know that.

James Dunne is a 24 year old teacher living and working in Abu Dhabi. Read more by James on his blog.

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