The web is full of lurid tales of people who leave their cocooned existence in richer, colder climates to find comfort in the third world. What we read about most often is when their experiences go sour.
Frequently, it is either because they have liaisoned with children too young to be out there in the company of “different” foreigners or because they have been found lifeless in some tropical bedroom.
The picture painted here is not positive.
Realistically, when one person or other decides to take a few days off and fly themselves to some warm, brown, country one knows for a fact that they do not come to merely take pictures of the lush landscape and the various shades of green. They come, and there is no denying it, to seek for release. Release from the repressed societies they live in and family arrangements they may be getting away from for a while.
The thing goes bad when people decide to fall in love for that young twenty-something they have met at some club. That is not good. Simply because you come from different worlds and you have different outlooks on life. More often than not, it is the vacationer who is going to end up footing the bill. The bills of his beloved and, it is suspected, the beloved’s next of kin.
Am I saying, then, that people are not allowed to fall in love? No. I am merely saying, and I have met many bi-national couples, that long distance love is hard for two similar bank accounts, what to say when there is a discrepancy in the solvency of either one or the other fellow in the relationship? Something’s gotta give.
It is entirely possible that I am being a bit severe on foreigners that go on vacation in the south and meet with, unwittingly, the bogeyboy, girl, man. It is a risky enterprising.
It is specially risky when you fall in love and you demand devotion from your twenty-something. Oh, don’t.
Oh, you are a prude and a spoilsport. No, I am all for the fun of it. I am for the good feelings and good emotions - and peace of mind.