I have had so American compatriots from the lower 48 who moved/emigrated to scenic, charming/interesting places beginning in the 1980's - Hawai'i, London, Paris, Rome, low-crime coastal enclaves in Brazil, northern Thailand, Ecuador, etc., etc. Of course I used to love having hosts in these alluring places, and I realized after each visit a consistent pattern in the first hours of our reunions: 2-3 hours of therapeutic moaning and bitching by them to me about the "unbearable" inconveniences, generalized ennui, the presence of too many other Americans, government incompetence, snobbery or boorishness of locals ... I learned that unless, for example, you are condemned by poverty or karma to live in a South Asian slum, favela, villa miseria, Mexico City colonia, or one of those existentially horrifying exurbs of the US Sunbelt, etc., we are all -- arguably -- lucky to be in creaky, Fellini-esque, Buenos Aires, with the luxury of time to kibbutz on web forums, as opposed to gathering cardboard at dusk in Palermo to feed a family and maybe get drunk occasionally with or subsistence earnings ... I suspect a lot of this debate about the merits of various expat destinations is a way of expressing the perhaps unconscious longing and sadness --that often accompany leaving our "homes", however imperfect -- and the fear that we may die without having found paradise ...