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These (still) young girls won’t let me be…

13 August 2010

One thing I notice about the “expat” advice columns and message boards is that the “rentistas” dominate the conversation.  That’s fine, since most of the people who use those sites ARE rentistas, but those of us who are not living on a foreign income can’t always follow their financial advice. For us working or dependent resident aliens,  we’re not trying to figure out how to stretch our foreign income, or the best way to transfer assets … we’re trying to figure out what to insure we are still eating after a certain age.

Most of the rentistas I know are smart, active, involved people:  like the Boy Scouts they’re trustworthy, loyal and helpful (excluding a couple of perverts I knew who were  –er — boy scouts).  Still, advice on,  say, filling out claims for Canadian medical insurance  is only of limited use to me… not being Canadian … and  Dr. Simi being my physician of record.

The rentistas are fortunate in that they can give logical advice because … well, they moved here for a logical reason:  like it was economically possible to do so and they wanted to.  And did.   Those of us who did not come for logical reasons — to pursue a spouse, or an experience or … just washed up here and decided we were home, have our own set of concerns.  And our own network for the schemes and dreams on which we hope to survive.

A friend of mine who is about the same age I am, and also has to consider what to do financially if we happen to live a “normal” live span and I have been corresponding recently.  Living, as she does, in one of the tonier gringo ghettos, she noticed an opportunity for long-range financial security that I don’t have here … one based on the theories of big game hunting and the relative profusion of well-heeled widows in her community.

Despite certain obvious liabilities for such an undertaking (although I’m a believer in the theory that one should “trophy your handicaps” — and I’m not sure my personal vision of Hell being a long, interminably dull cocktail party is necessarily a handicap —  an aversion to meaningless socialization may be an  asset in some situations), I’m quite flattered to be considered a likely candidate to succeed at such an undertaking.

However, when I mentioned this to another woman, also in our somewhat exclusive club of the deserving under-invested, the upshot was a sizable contribution to the Mex Files.  From with I conclude either  “N” is right, and I’m a natural for big game hunting, or “M” sees some long-term growth potential in what I’m doing now.

Ni modo. I’m extremely flattered either way, and flattery will get you anything.  Including, by way of a thank-you,  this analysis of the whole plan presented with the same grace and good humor by two other unforgettable ladies.

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