The expat experience tends to run along these lines:
Arrival: OMG I love this place! It is so fantastic! The people are so warm (wahahaha of course because you're only interacting with tourism staff)! I could live here FOREVER!!!
3 months: Hmmm this place isn't as cheap as I thought it would be, I mean the price of X has gone up X amount since I got here. And cabs, their expensive, how do people even get around this city?
6months: WTF they're raising my rent AND they want me to pay another commission even though they've done NOTHING but print out another copy of the contract?!?! These people are total a-holes! Stab you in the back, and when you're walking down the street no respect, and when I ask for something they treat me like crap because I don't speak much Spanish. At least I'm not spending so much on cabs since I figured out public transport.
1 year (if you make it that far): Ok so I went home for a visit and you know, it was nice, but.... boring. I went out for lunch with some friends and it was like in and out -- as if they couldn't wait to get out of there, I don't even think we were there for 2hrs. And everything so ORGANISED, I can't just call them and do something last minute, we have to book for Saturday on Tuesday and then these crazy people want to meet for dinner at 6:30. Customer service back home is FANTASTIC but life... well it's just...boring.
2 years: So most of my friends who I met when I first got here are gone, but I dunno, I just can't seem to get out of this place. Might be that I've met this great guy/girl and you know their family is nice. And it's great, maybe I don't have a tonne of friends here but the few I know are sort of in the same experience as me, and it's great that I can just go over there or for lunch on a weekend at 1 and suddenly it's 10pm and the times just gone by shooting the shit. Sure I still can't stand going to microcentro, the dogshit outside my front door is driving me crazy, and my neighbours are effing insane, but you know, there's something about this place.
5 years: So man, wtf? I'm still here. It's nice and all but christ those flights are killing me. I'd be happier to go home but the prices. And now it's me + my other half and they need a visa and I'll be footing the trip. Forget it, easier to just take a holiday in Brasil.
7 years: Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? I feel like we've been talking about leaving for years but just can't get it together. My friends back home are all getting fantastic jobs, half of them managed to get a mortgage, we're here struggling to pay our rent. But we went home for the first time in 18months and it's like wow, so CLEAN. So we've made a big decision, no, we're not leaving, we're just moving to another barrio.
9 years: Ok, I'm obviously a sick twisted motherf--er. What the hell is wrong with me? This country is a mess but now I'm in so deep, and I'm stuck on a local salary now, saving to get out of here is killing me. And I couldn't believe my friends were complaining about the prices on things there. I mean, most of the stuff is soooo much cheaper than Argentina. They don't know how good they have it.
10 years: We're leaving, that's it! We're LEAVING.
15 years: Yup, still here.
