The Angry Expat

The Profile of a Ubiquitous Grump

DALL-E’s representation of The Ubiquitous Grump. I think it nailed it.

The following is not satire or exaggeration; it reflects my experience living on the Placencia Peninsula in Belize. I wrote it about a year ago when my family and I were struggling—feeling the growing pains accompanying a two-year mark in a new country.

Disclaimer

I want to clearly state that I do not see all foreigners—or expats as so many colloquially like to call themselves, for better or worse—this way. I've met some wonderful, kind-hearted people here, whom without, the challenges of moving abroad would have undoubtedly been worse. I am usually a pretty positive dude, but the end of 2023 and a good portion of 2024 were challenging, and writing is cathartic for me. The following was a pressure release, which I didn't plan to publish out of fear but also out of a lack of platform—I wasn't on Substack at the time, and www.thegreenhousebythesea.com was meant to sell a house, not dissuade people from coming here.¹ Nevertheless, I recently found this in my Google Docs, and with hindsight, I find it amusing. However, it is still relevant and accurate to living as a foreigner in Belize.

I now want to share it because there is a cohort of people in Belize who fit this profile to a T—those shrouded in entitlement and who carry around the proverbial stick up their ass. Those who take on the mentality of the Romans, but not in the sense of "do as the Romans do," but more as, do as the Romans did when they conquered a good portion of Europe and Asia.

It isn't just a Belize thing, either. Peruse any Facebook 'expat' group for other Central American countries, Mexico, or the Caribbean, and you will find mirror-image personalities loitering with their sticks at the ready, vampirizing the energy of the innocent, albeit naive, questioners.

So, before we get into it, I implore you: if the following words spark a defensive flame within you, look at yourself and analyze if this is you. And if it is, smarten the fuck up!

A Ubiquitous Grump

Wherever you go, there THEY are

-Me

It doesn't matter where you go in this world; they are there. The more beautiful the place, the more likely you will find them. Pristine beaches nestled beside quaint little towns along the shores of the Caribbean? Yup. There they linger, like a tropical storm cloud, ready to rain down negativity on an otherwise sunny day.

Attempts to get away from them are futile. They flock to the most beautiful places. Through a strange act of osmosis, they unwelcomely balance out the peace and beauty of a place. Shitting on every light-hearted parade.

Their motive operandi is to stick their gin-blossomed noses into business that isn’t theirs. Oh, you have permission from the landowner to park your RV on a vacant lot² with epic views? It doesn't matter; a Caucasian beer-bellied interlocutor will undoubtedly accost you the moment you step outside at six in the morning—Christmas morning, to be precise. The lush will rant about how you've parked on private property—which he does not own, I might add—and go on about some unbeknownst grudge he has against trailer owners, as if everyone who travels in an RV, converted bus, or camper van is some stereotypical country-bumpkin-trailer-park resident from tornado alley—not that there is anything wrong with that. Meanwhile, other grumpy boomers passing by take photos of you and your children without your consent in some awkward attempt to capture and incriminate you in a suspected but false act of trespass.

Their entitlement is palpable. They arrive in foreign countries and impose their grumpy standards on the local way of life in a newaged act of colonialism:

"Oh, there aren't building permits here? Well, there should be!"

"What about local bylaws? There aren't any? How will I impose my grumpy-ass ways on my neighbours and force them to bend to my will?"

"Dogs just roam free here? There should be leash laws!"

"The beaches are public? They shouldn't be! I bought an oceanfront property!" Then they put up fences where there shouldn't be any and construct built-in structures and impediments to access to give passersby the impression that they own what isn't theirs³.

Their presence pollutes. Many of them smoke, contaminating their bodies with black clouds of chemicals—the smoke wells like their shitty energy, which they spread to others wherever they go. With smoke-scarred voices that rasp tiredly, they spoil the tranquil air breezing off the sea and pollute your ears with their dinosaur-call-like coughs emanating from deep within their charred lungs, killing themselves with the same voracity that they destroy a positive outlook.

A smile rarely crosses their faces unless it's in response to the sarcastic remark they spit in your direction or when they feel they've one-upped you.

Hypocrisy is a key trait. I already mentioned how they will attack you for being on private land (with permission) they don't own. They will thrash you for having a dog off-leash on a public beach while their dog wanders the same patch of sand. But it's okay for them to be there because they own the land adjacent. "I live the fuck here!" they will exclaim with lousy grammar when you remind them that their pet, who is but a cubit away, is also off-leash. Seeming to forget that the beach is public, they will glare at you and storm off, ranting about calling the cops about some leash law that, even if it exists, is not enforced by any branch of law enforcement.

They will come to your home to tell you what people are saying about you behind your back in some passive-aggressive way to "help" you and show their disapproval for something you were completely unaware of. They will claim they do not gossip while perpetuating the hearsay loop and actively engaging in what they claim to disavow.

They prowl Facebook groups, injecting negative feedback whenever possible. They could contribute something meaningful to the conversation but opt for snarky, unhelpful, and hurtful remarks that fit their fancy just fine. Negative for negativity's sake.

Sit beside one at a local bar or restaurant and express interest in moving to the beautiful location. They will tell you that you shouldn't, that "it's not a place to raise kids," and that it is generally a bad place to move to, in a subtle way to gatekeep you from realizing a dream. Yet, when you ask them how long they have been living or visiting there, they will tell you 10 years! It's apparently a terrible place, but they keep returning or have yet to move away.

They will talk shit about your toddlers for only wearing diapers in record-breaking heat in a beach community. They will tell you to “get a handle on your kids" when you are the only patrons in their open-air establishment. They will make you feel like your children are an embarrassment and that they are a burden in their presence, seemingly forgetting that they have some of their own or at the very least, were once kids themselves.

But probably worst of all, they hide behind the facade of “a good Christian." They stick their snobby, righteous noses into other people's business, criticizing how others choose to live their lives and conduct their businesses. “It's not a good look," they'll say, backhandedly spreading their disdain-filled "impartiality" when no one asked them for their fucking opinion.

My rant is over, but I want to close this out with a bit of verse I've titled,

So Many Few

What do you do with so many few?

Their presence is small, but we hear them all.

If you retort their beck and call

They will stew and lash back at you

"Live and let live?"

"Fuck that!" they say.

"You live my way.”

“Or you’ll regret the light of day.”

The best solution of all

Is not to fall,

Victim to their trolling call.

But instead, turn your head,

Plug your ears

Know that their behaviour just reflects their fears

How have I managed in the last year?

I act as a mirror—no filth gets near,

I reflect the spite right back.

And let them see just how they act

And how things will be.

For my life is for me,

And I live it for only a few:

My wife, my kids, and my dogs, too.

1. The home is no longer for sale; we’ve decided to stay as my wife and I have emerged from the doldrums of life stronger and more resilient. I’ve recently rebranded the old site into a new endeavour called Foreign Hub

2. The lot is gorgeous yet up for sale. It has since sold. The previous owner had an RV there for a brief period of time. The suspicion arises that the shitty neighbour is behind the attempt to offload it.

3. The beaches in Belize are public and there is an ongoing debate in the country about access. There are supposed to be easements so nationals can enjoy their native land, but far too many expats deny them access. Enforcement is weak, government officials are easily bought, so many just do as they please.

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.