In the old Tarzan movies, there were always greedy, white villains with rifles who wanted to hunt elephants or get their hands on precious diamonds. To achieve this, it was essential for them to establish relationships with the local people. These were aborigines with primitive languages, who paid tribute in strange rituals and displayed various superstitions. However, they were cheap, helpful, and submissive labor. It seemed their only job was to serve them. The greedy explorers needed provisions from the natives and some porters to fulfill their mission and then, once the loot was obtained, return to their country, richer than when they arrived because nothing cost much in those places.
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I explain this because in the neighborhood I spend my days surrounded by expats who do expat things, live among expat couples and expat offspring, but my relationship was one of invisibility until the other night my first real contact with one of them occurred. He told me, among other things, that he had bought an apartment in Badalona to rent it out. In his country he couldn’t, but here, he could. I almost felt him placing a bullet with provisions on my back and telling me that, at dawn, we would set off towards Sacred Mountain to find Monkey Man.
An immigrant lives where I no longer want to live; an expat kicks me out of where I want to live
An expat is like an immigrant, speaks like an immigrant, but, if it comes to it, complains like a tourist. An expat earns a salary in their country, doesn’t pay taxes in yours, and teleworks in Poblenou. My expat confessed that in his country he couldn’t live like a rich person, so he came to ours to be able to do so. Maybe one day he’ll get into indigenous languages. He finds the sound of calçot funny. Just then, two people enter the bar. One with a small guitar and the other clapping. They say Barcelona is powerful. Well, look at that.
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An immigrant lives where I no longer want to live. An expat ends up kicking me out of where I want to live, by skyrocketing rental prices, dinner and meal costs, and by living unforgettable experiences served by porters, guides, waiters, and bicycles at their service. An immigrant creates community because they have come to stay and pay taxes, and an expat does not. Ultimately, this is pure class struggle. Masters, servants, crocodiles, and sidewalks like quicksand.
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