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I’ve long been fascinated by China – probably the result of reading James Clavell’s novels as a kid and my father’s tales of two years spent in Hong Kong in the Fifties! My own trip to Hong Kong 20 years ago further inflamed my fascination with the country and its culture, but a bus ride out to the New Territories to take a peek through the border fence was as close as I came to seeing the country proper.

So reading Alan Paul’s new book on expat life in China has been a real eye-opener.

Big in China

In Big in China Alan reveals a world of sequestered expatdom. The multinational ranks he depicts are cloistered together in compounds boasting well-maintained streets lined by large houses, with clubhouses, gyms and swimming pools. The kids go to the international school together and play at each others’ homes. There are family sports days, barbecues, dinners with friends.

For many daily life is made easy by cheap domestic help – cooks, cleaners, drivers and nannies are par for the course, creating a luxurious lifestyle only a few could expect to have back home.

As Alan observes, it is all too easy to become immersed in this expat bubble – a world of privilege, ease and security.

Yet it is also one of sterility. And to his credit, Alan is determined not to become a prisoner behind the expat gates. Instead, he is keen to find the China that exists for its population. He relates his adventures as he cycles off by himself to explore the local villages and countryside, his journeys into the hinterland, his efforts to learn the language, make friends and taste the ‘real’ China, from its food on up.

The picture of China that emerges is just as complex as the one gleaned from inches of newspaper and magazine columns, with all its beauty and ugliness. Yet it is coloured by great insights into the immense joys and frustrations that life in China offers for expatriates.

Pros and cons

As a growing economic (and political) powerhouse, China presents an extraordinary opportunity for expat entrepreneurs and employees on assignment to make their mark, and a lot of money.

But China has much else to offer besides a step up the career ladder. Its beautiful and varied landscapes, and diverse cultural riches dating back thousands of years are incentives enough for many inquisitive foreigners.

As becomes evident from reading Alan’s book, there are inevitable challenges to living in China too.

For one, there is the language barrier. There are important cultural differences in terms of the structure of society and individuals’ interactions with each to navigate as well – many of which it can be nigh on impossible to fully grasp as an outsider.

Issues such as media censorship and political repression may come as a stark counterpoint to the societal norms to which expats are accustomed.

In addition, there is a real risk of physical isolation and introversion creeping in. As Alan relates in his book, for one thing it is notoriously difficult to obtain something as simple as a Chinese driving licence. Yet without it you lack the freedom of movement we take for granted back home.

China’s notorious pollution, with all the health risks it poses, is another problem that the country is only belatedly trying to tackle.

In short, China is hardly the easiest place in the world for an expat to move to. But what it does promise is one big and exciting adventure of life-changing proportions. Just ask Alan.

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It is exactly a year now since we repatriated from Spain to the UK. It was lovely to return in time to have Christmas with family, but looking back I wouldn’t do it the same way again. For rather than enjoying those magical weeks in the run up to Christmas, we had to spend them up to our ears in boxes, sorting and packing belongings.

Having moved several times before, we knew how much work was involved. Still, it’s amazing to discover how much “stuff” we had managed to accumulate, and how long it takes to sort.

The question then is always what do you do with it?

Which are the essential items you absolutely must take with you when relocating? Which bits can be given or thrown away? And the biggest quandary, what do you do with the rest? You know, the stuff you want to keep, or that you think might come in useful “some day.”

Unless a friend or family member is happy to give up their garage or attic indefinitely so you can jam it full of your belongings, the only real solution is to use a self storage facility. They come with several advantages:

1)      It’s cost effective 

For one, it is inexpensive these days to rent storage space. In addition, there are no long term contracts. That means that as you settle into your new place you have the flexibility to collect your boxes when you are ready for them.

2)      It’s safe and secure 

Any self storage facility worth its salt will have effective security measures in place to protect your property. Look for 24hr CCTV and individual alarms on the storage rooms.

3)      It’s convenient 

Self storage has become more and more popular in recent years. As a result, there is probably a self storage facility[1] close by.

Where possible it is best to look for facilities near both your old and new homes. That way you always have the option of keeping any overflow you’re not sure if you want or have space for safe.

4)      It’s flexible

Unless you’re relocating to a place where the weather is pretty much the same all year round, you may also want to think about storing all that stuff you only use at certain times of the year – for example, skis or scuba gear. That way you won’t have it cluttering up the house the whole time. And that can do wonders for your state of mind!


[1] For example, Big Yellow Self Storage has over 70 sites across Britain. You can see their facilities and locations at http://www.bigyellow.co.uk/.

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Buying a property in your home country can be a time-consuming, expensive and stressful experience. So think what it’s like trying to do it in another country.

Abroad you may face unfamiliar market conditions, uncertainty around how to arrange a mortgage or how they are calculated, what legal processes are necessary and the fees you will have to pay. To complicate matters further you may not even speak the language.

Those are the sorts of obstacles my wife and I had to navigate when buying our house in Spain. It is not an experience I am eager to repeat.

Much better, I now realise, to get an expert who knows the market intimately to take the strain.

Professional Help

So I was intrigued when I heard recently about a Spanish-based company called Shortcuts Property Search (www.shortcutspropertysearch.com).

Their service is tailored to make both the searching for a property, and the actual buying process through to the signing of the escritura de compra/venta, as easy as possible. This is especially useful for people who don’t speak Spanish, and/or don’t have the time or money to make various trips to Spain before making up their minds.

Crucially, the service comes at no cost to the client either, as normally Shortcuts finds properties through agents who then pay it part of their commission. In situations where Shortcuts finds a property from a private seller the firm charges a 2% commission.

For the moment, Shortcuts Property Search only operates in Spain. But if you are buying property elsewhere in the world I would advise looking for a company that can provide a similar sort of service.

It will make the purchase process much easier and more enjoyable, saving you the stress and bitter aftertaste that can otherwise result. In the long run it will probably save you cash too, by helping you avoid all those ill-suited places, and instead finding you the best deal for your money.

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Adultery, family feuds, multimillion pound inheritances – par for the course for family life among the British aristocracy perhaps. But the Thynne family, holders of the Marquessate of Bath, are more colourful than most.

The current Lord Bath is known for his flamboyant clothing, the murals he has painted on his private apartments, and the scores of girlfriends (he used to call them “wifelets”) he has had – and made portraits of – over the years.

He is also the owner of Longleat House, the beautiful stately home in Wiltshire. Completed in 1580, it is considered one of the finest examples of Elizabethan architecture in Britain. It was also the first stately home to open to the public.

Longleat is best known though for its safari park, with its collection of lions and tigers, monkeys, rhinos and deer. The brainchild of the 6th marquess, the incumbent’s father, the safari park was opened in 1966, becoming the first such drive-through animal experience outside Africa.

Having heard so many good things about Longleat, and wanting to experience more of what England has to offer since moving back from abroad, my family and I took the opportunity to visit a couple of weeks ago.

I would have liked to trawl around the house itself, to sample the wealth of history and objets d’art on show. But having been subjected as a child to a succession of tours of grand old houses by my own parents I decided it best not to inflict the same pain on them.

Instead we enjoyed a selection of the many other activities Longleat has to offer: a ride on the miniature railway, fun time in the Adventure Castle, an exploration of the Postman Pat Village. Plus, of course, a drive around the safari park.

There was so much more we didn’t have time to see either. Still, we can save that for another visit. And I know our kids would be eager to go back.

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The blind man came yesterday. Or should I say the man to fix the security blind that covers our patio door.

 

We’re on first name terms, José and I. Not surprising, given the number of times he’s had to come to our house in the four years we’ve been living here.

 

He must have fixed that blind at least half a dozen times. This time it had come off the roller on one side and jammed half up. Lucky really, as on previous occasions it’s got stuck when all the way down, leaving the lounge shrouded in gloom and forcing us to climb through the window if we want to get out onto the patio. Fortunately we only had to wait three days for José to show up this time around too.

 

While he was here he mended the kitchen window as well, as it keeps sagging on its hinges, making it almost impossible to open. It’s only about the fourth time he’s had to sort that one out though, so I shouldn’t complain.

 

As for the window in our daughters’ bedroom … well, that’s another story.

 

We’d asked about it while the house was still under construction. One day, while visiting the site to check on progress, we found the builders about to install the windows. There would be a tilt-and-turn one in the kitchen, and another in the downstairs bathroom.

 

“Could we have the same mechanism in the second bedroom?” we asked.

 

The architect, developer and the head of the building firm consulted. “No, it’s not possible,” we were told. The frame was too small to support its weight, they said. Being ignorant of such matters, we shrugged our shoulders.

 

Eventually the house was finished – two months late, so six months early by Spanish standards – and we moved in. But the sliding patio door locks kept breaking (too much weight on the door for too flimsy a lock it turned out), so we called José back in … six times.

 

During the course of one of his visits I pointed to the kitchen window. “Is it possible to have the same mechanism in the bedroom upstairs?” I asked.

 

“Of course,” he replied. “I just need to add a piece to the top of the frame.”

 

I explained to him what I’d been told about the frame being too small. He shook his head. Nope, complete rubbish. It would cost me about 50 euros to get it changed though. Ah, that explained why the developer had said no.

 

So José said he’d come round and sort it out. Which he did, several weeks later. He took the window off its hinges and returned to his workshop to add the necessary pieces. A couple of hours later he was back, as promised. Unfortunately, he could only put on one piece of the necessary mechanism, he explained. They were missing the other bit, but he’d order that and return to install it as soon as it arrived. It would take ten minutes to do.

 

We waited. I called and left a message with his secretary. A few weeks later I ran into José in a local shopping mall. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I’ll give you a call and come round in a couple of weeks.”

 

We waited.

 

I called again and left another message.

 

A little while after I bumped into José in town. “I’ll come one day this week,” he told me. “I’m not sure which, but I’ll call and let you know.”

 

We waited.

 

I called and left a message. I went up to the factory. José had popped out but would be back in five minutes. Could I come back then?

 

I returned half an hour later. José was still out. I talked to his dad, who owns the business. He’d speak with José when he returned and get him to come see me.

 

We waited. I called and left a message with the secretary. Nothing.

 

It’s now two years since José first came to change the window. So I took the opportunity while he was fixing the blind to ask him if there was any progress on the missing part for the bedroom window. I should have known better.

 

José shook his head sorrowfully. Unfortunately, he told me, the guy who manufactured the pieces has gone out of business (which hardly came as a shock).

 

The good news though is that over the last decade José has installed the same style of window in many other houses around town. So all we have to do now is wait for one of them to be knocked down or have their windows changed and he can nab the missing piece we require.

 

Shouldn’t take too long, I figure. Another five years or so and I’m sure we’ll have it sorted.

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