People cry out for direction… Where can I go? Where should I move? Whatcountry is safe? Tell me! TELL ME! 

Holly Deyo, Contributor
Activist Post
April 11, 2012
FEMAcamps, increasing earthquakes, government intrusion, warrantless searches,global economic collapse, mandated healthcare, RFID tagging, climate change,solar kill shots, terrorist threats, violent social unrest, court-drivenlegislation, unprecedented Presidential control, spy cams galore, staggeringdebt, Congressional circumvention, racial clashes, increased drug-resistantdiseases, unbelievable climate extremes, unbridled government coercion, unfairtaxation, class disparity, ramped up Earth changes.Whew!I should have written this article four years ago, but people would not havelistened. Now it is nearly too late. Increasingly people feel the answer is toflee our country, move somewhere else ~ move anywhere else. Before youembark on this likely one-way journey, let me share with you what it might belike.

In the last 12 months, I’ve read numerous accounts of peoplesuggesting to those who have the means to move to Central America, Canada,Australia, Costa Rica, New Zealand, Mexico, anywhere  ~ besides here. Even before that when peoplehad heard we’d lived in Oz many years, inevitably comments poured in,”I’ve always wanted to go to Australia!”

It’s time for a reality check.  Living in a foreign country isvastly different than merely visiting it for even 6 months. As a tourist you’llbe treated like royalty as it’s your pocket’s contents they want, not yourpresence.My husband moved to Australia to pursue his advanced propulsion research in1971. At that time, Australia welcomed him like a chick to its nest. Many ofhis closest friends are still those who live Down under and three of our childrenand their families live there. But these are people that it takes years to bondwith, to be accepted by.

Australia is a unique and beautiful country, but not without built-in problems.Let me say at this point, that it is not my intention to offend any Australianor any person living in another country. If they moved to America, they mightfeel the same way I did living elsewhere. To this day, Stan and I have dearfriends In Australia with whom we still write and Skype.

Six months ago Stan lost his oldest Aussie friend Charlie Parker. Chas builtthe

Ballarat Wildlife ParkinVictoria from the ground up. He befriended Stan when he first set foot in TheLucky Country helping him beyond measure, and they remained friends for over 40years until his death in November. You don’t ever find better friends than heand his wife, Val. They were our Aussie family and there are others, too, thatwe’ll let go unnamed. So I’m not picking on Australians. It’s just theexperience I’m compelled to share because people are looking for answers.It was 30 years later, nearly to the day, when Stan came home to America.

In theintervening time, I had lived in Australia 5-1/2 long years and feel qualifiedto give an eagle-eye assessment of residing in a foreign country having givenit a “fair go.” It is nearly impossible for people to adequatelyexplain what it’s like to live abroad without having done so. Yet many punditspontificate on this subject while sitting cozily in their American bugoutquarters.


When I moved to Perth in 1996, it wasn’t that I wanted to leave America. It wassimply easier for me to relocate there than it was for Stan to come here. I washigh on the prospect of marrying my beloved, and hummed happily while packingboxes and boxes and even more boxes. Thinking to be clever, I’d ironed everystitch of clothing beforehand and packed it carefully so that chore would bedone for about 6 months. There would be more time to get used to my newcountry, my new husband and sightsee.
When most of it arrived through customs several months later, everysingle piece of clothing had been removed from countless boxes and shoved backinside in massive colored wads of tangled, wrinkled fabric. Some of my mosttreasured items ~ things that would have meant nothing to anyone else ~ weremagically “lost”. Most surprising was to find that the Cuisinart had been usedsometime between Denver and Perth and put back into the packing dirty and oily.LITTLE THINGS THAT WEREN’T SO SMALL 

After the first glow of romancing a new country wore off, innumerable changessurfaced. I had to learn to drive on the “wrong” side of the road. It meant anew driver’s license and a new test. Everything was measured in metric fromdistances to recipes to weight. Road differences like irritating roundaboutshad to be negotiated, but driving-wise, most frustrating was traveling to aspecific destination.

InAmerica where even numbers are on one side of the street and odd ones on theother, often there was no logic to addresses. It was random chaos. On manyoccasions, once you crossed an intersection, the street you were driving onvanished and it became a whole other road. Oopsies. Sorry, the change wasn’t onthe map! For people new to the area, it was like driving in a time warp.I used to be a pretty decent cook, took gourmet classes occasionally in KansasCity and knew my way around the kitchen with fair ease. However, it was likesomeone had sucked my brain out between leaving Denver and arriving inPerth.Shopping was culture shock! Many ingredients that were common in the Stateswere non-existent Down under, and when you could find them, the prices mightrival those for your first born. Other problems encountered were equivalentconversions. In the States, a “can” might consist of 14 oz., but there it couldbe 300 grams, which when you convert it, is only 10-1/2 oz. This differencecertainly mucks up recipes.

It’s these seemingly small irritations that are a big part of why femaleimmigrants to Oz generally only last two years. And this time frame is for oneof the countries most like America. That two-year statistic is according toAustralia’s Dept. Immigration and Citizenship, not something scraped off thebottom of my shoe.

Nowthink what that transition would be like to a country where you don’t evenspeak the language….Imagine trading every single thing you know, every piece of history youidentify with, every single store you’re used to shopping, every landmark youassociate with your culture, every street familiar to you, every joke and bitof humor you “get”, every idiom that’s a part of your language, every holidaythat is your tradition, every convenience you take for granted. Weigh all thatand more; it carves a big hole out of your heart.I remember seeing programs on Aussie TV that originated in America. It was sogood when they panned the city and one got to glimpse a slice of home, even iffor a few seconds. Though those seconds brought more waves of wretchedhomesickness, it was wonderful to see America again.


The most screamingly hilarious, ridiculous stroke of insanity came with themandatory immigration papers. Because I arrived in Australia unmarried, it wasassumed I had moved Down under to improve my living standards. Improvemy living conditions? Are you kidding?

I N T E R I M  S I L E N C E

Please excuse this interim silence. I had to collect myself from the hysteriathat threatened to erupt while contemplating that improbable thought! Imaginemoving from the world’s superpower to a somewhat backward (in the smallertowns) socialist country to “improve my circumstances”.
To be fair, Australia gets a lot of Asian, Indian and Indonesian immigrants,and in those cases, yes, most likely they would be moving to better conditions.Second point of fairness, when we lived in Perth, it was closest to living inthe States since many U.S. service people are stationed in Fremantle, which isjust south of there.Generally people in Western Australia “get” Americans, and we met someabsolutely delightful folks. That said, Perth is a big city and if your purposeis to get out of the line of fire, like here, you don’t want to be in heavilypopulated areas.

In the ensuing four years, a stack of paperwork literally 2” thick had to becompleted for the Australian government. Every 6 months I had to exit thecountry for 6 weeks at a time to not overstay the visa. That became veryexpensive for the two of us. I also had to prove that my personal funds weresufficient to show that I was an “asset” and would not be a burden on theirwelfare system. Background checks were run on me both in Colorado and in Perthby their police departments to make sure I wasn’t some bolting criminal. Ohyes, I had to pay for these too.


Next came medical checks. A complete physical was performedespecially to make sure I wasn’t carrying any transmissible diseases and, mostnotably, ones of a sexual nature.Essays of why I wanted to move to Australia had to be completed and submitted,along with birth certificate, social security number, personal history, and aton of other data that clogs the memory banks.Over the course of the 4 years “approval” time, four recommendations fromAustralian friends had to be submitted attesting to my good character.

This is what it’s like when you play by the rules just for residency, nevermind citizenship. That said, U.S. citizenship was one thing I would never, notever, have relinquished. Four long years later, nearly to the day, approval tostay in Australia was granted. However, by that time, homesickness for Americahad reached astronomical, unbearable heights and Stan and I considered movinghome.

Thank you God. Thank you God. THANK YOU GOD and praise YOU! But it wouldbe another year and a half before it came to pass.

During these 5-1/2 years, because I retained my U.S. citizenship, we paid dualincome tax on the same money, which was very expensive. This made Stan extrahappy since he had to do paperwork for this exercise every 6 months ~ onereturn for America and one for Australia. It was like enduring male PMS every180 days that lasted two weeks at a crack.


Before moving to Australia for two decades I had run a small, very profitablebusiness. Hired, fired, trained, interviewed prospective personnel, did thepayroll, quarterly returns, etc. I was used to handling everything andanything, and making all decisions.
Imagine the surprise to find that Down under many women are still viewed ashaving no minds except for creativeness in the sack, washing laundry andprepping food. Imagine dialing the clock back two centuries ~ Didn’t the daysof man’s knuckle-dragging disappear in the ’60s? Not there. Even Stan wasshocked to see the disparity in treatment.

Without being a snot, I still expected to make decisions beyond what to wearthat day. That was a mistake.

One day, Stan and I were shopping and I whipped out a $100 bill for the clerkand the change was given to Stan. He handed it over to me and we went about ourbusiness. This happened time and again, and not just by men. Women, too,thought the fairer sex, meant you were the stupider sex.

Just asnow, Stan and I ran our own publishing business. When I answered the phone, themale Aussie caller would invariably ask for Stan. When screening a call anddetermining that all he wanted was our P.O. Box address, he still implied theonly person capable of imparting that information was my spouse.About the 10th time this occurred, the poor bugger at the other end of the linegot a full ear-blast. His jaw is probably still dragging the ground, along withhis knuckles.CHAT ME BABY 

Another example of basic country differences showed up in the grocery store.You know we Americans can talk the ear off a deaf person. We converse whilewaiting in line, we talk to strangers; heck, sometimes we even talk toourselves. We’re naturally a friendly lot.
While waiting in line at Coles (it’s like Safeway here) I was bored spitlessand attempted to engage in conversation with the woman behind me. At first try,she pretty much ignored me. On the second attempt, she looked at me like I hada third ear. Finally she gave in and you could see she thought it was prettynice talking, but breaking the ice required a sledgehammer. Anyway, it made mesmile, which remained glued on my face till reaching the checkout clerk.Clearly there was something off here.

I didn’t know her from a bar of soap, but asked if she was OK. She mumbledsomething and continued chucking groceries into the bag. This woman couldn’thave been more than 19. She was frail and her hair was bedraggled and dull.Frankly, she looked hammered with tiredness.

Again I asked if she was OK and she confirmed that she was just exhausted. OK,19, healthy, why are you so tired? Despite her reticence to talk to a stranger,let alone a Yank, she said that once she finally got off work she had to gohome and clean house. Then she had to make dinner for her boyfriend and hisfriend who also lived with them. She barely had time to study before droppinginto bed and then having to get up just to do it all over again. When askedwhat they did all day she replied, “play video games”. I’m sure my mouth musthave hung open a full 10 seconds before recovering from shock to ask her, “whydo you put up with this?”

Then it was her turn to be shocked. Apparently it had never crossed her mind tothink things could be different. She had been beaten down for so long, “down”seemed to be her only direction. We talked a little longer and by the time thegroceries were sacked, you could see the wheels clicking around in her mind.Maybe life could be different….

Stan and I arrived home in 2000 on a scouting mission for a place to live.Restaurants were alive with conversation and with people laughing. Stan lookedaround in surprise. It’d been so long since he’d heard just normal conversationwhile dining out. In Australia it really wasn’t the done thing. People got onwith eating and little else.


Later when we passed through a mall door, a little old lady held it open forhim. When we passed through, he turned and asked, “Why’d she do that?”
Huh? “Do what?”

“Hold the door open for me.” He replied patiently.

“Because that’s what we do here. It’s just common courtesy.”

I can’t tell you the number of times when walking through a door in Victoriaand the person a hair’s breath away let the door slam right in my face. It justwouldn’t occur to them to do otherwise.

What itdoes do is point out differences once again between Americans and “somewhereelse.”NEARLY NAKED 

One way women feel at home in a new environment is through shopping.

If wecan just find a store we really like, it makes us acclimatize easier. However,shopping for clothes there was nearly impossible. I simply could not find jeansto fit. My body is curvy and long-legged, but most Australian women are eithermore straight-legged and they gain weight in their middles or they are Asianbuilt with very short, lean legs. Either way I simply couldn’t find Levis tofit and ended up importing them from Colorado. It was beyond frustrating and Ididn’t purchase more than two pieces of clothing the whole time in Australia.OK, these are bearable grievances if you have no alternative for whereto live. One could suck it up and buck up if necessary. Trouble was, I didn’thave to, and it made the longing to go home all the stronger. I just didn’tfit.YOU’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE 

One November really dear friends gave us a surprise Thanksgiving feast. We weretouched down to our toes and Carmel had even made a traditional pumpkin pie,though Aussies normally eat pumpkin in soup. Their entire family had come todinner from around the country ~ all 11 kids. One of their sons was aninternational banker in South America. Mike was refined and sophisticated; hehad a quick wit and even quicker tongue.
Partway through dinner, Mike inquired whether we’d read an editorial thepreceding week in The Age, Melbourne’s lead newspaper. No we hadn’t,should we have?

Quietlyhe nodded, “Yes, this bloke wrote a piece about what’s wrong with Americans.”
Hepaused, and then continued. “They’re over sexed, over paid and over here ~ still.”
ThenMike flashed an engaging grin, but we sensed his underlying animus. Livingprimarily in South America, he been exposed too long to ill feelings towardAmericans and it was impossible for him to disguise his own dislike.This sentiment dates back to WWII when many U.S. servicemen took their R&Rin The Lucky Country. By all counts, American men had more $$ and their teethwere better. We had better diets, so our men were bigger, healthier andgenerally better looking. Those are Mike’s words, not mine.Australian women fell all over themselves thinking if they put out theservicemen would marry them and take them back to America. Instead, it produceda rash of illegitimate babies, literally thousands of them and Americans wereblamed for that, pretty much like we are for the rest of the world’s problems.Somehow, it was always conveniently overlooked that if the Australian womenhadn’t been so easy, they wouldn’t have ended up pregnant.

I looked over at Stan; he looked at me. You could have heard a leaf drop twomiles away. For a moment, no one said a word. Then Carmel quipped, “Wouldsomebody please pass the peas?” She must have been beyond mortified and we wereembarrassed for her for Mike’s brash manners.

A second clue came to light about the true feelings some Australians share whenStan took our truck to the mechanic. Every time we saw Joe, he was alwayssinging and talking about going to America. His dream was to conquer L.A. andhit it big in the music industry.

We gotto be friendly to the point where Stan shared with him a bad experience ofbeing hugely overcharged by a repairman. Joe started to say something andchanged his mind. When Stan prompted him, Joe finally conveyed that it was theprevailing attitude that most Americans had money. If they had money, they had“screwed somebody to get it”. (Believe me, that is the ‘cleaned up’ version.)
And ifAmericans had screwed people to get what they had, it made them fair game forthe same. Hence the overcharging. It was just assumed about Americans andwrongly so. Through the years, Stan learned it was best to live in jeans anddrive a beat up car or your wallet would take a waxing.Wow! Was that attitude a shock! Stan had started an egg business at age 13 andI had worked every day since age 15. I worked year round and all through highschool and university while carrying 19 hours a semester. No one “gave” usanything, and both sets of our parents had instilled in the kids a strong workethic. The Australian “tall poppy” attitude was disappointing.WHEN THE WORLD COLLAPSES 

So now you have a general picture of what it’s like on the downside of livingin a foreign country during good times, a country as much like America as you’llfind with the possible exception of Canada. To be fair, it is much moredifficult for women to adjust to living outside the U.S. than it is for men.Additionally the older people are when they move, the more difficult thetransition.
We’ve had half a dozen acquaintances over the past few years move to Australiaand New Zealand.

Theyquit their job, sold out, and moved their entire family to a place they’d neverbeen. Thinking to make the best of it, they dug in as had we.When I say “dug in”, it took us two full years to make our 10-acre farmletself-sufficient. It was truly a beautiful property with two wells, two ponds,fully fenced acreage, steers, good neighbors, stored food, a productive gardenand everything was debt-free. However, those are just “things” and it can’treplace family, your heritage and your ties.Within two years, three tops, those people who had moved to Oceana packed it inand came home to America. Those were expensive lessons ~ all in a fit to“escape”.


What if you are abroad when the SHTF?

Howwill you feel when all that you loved disappears?
Youwill, in essence, be a country orphan. It is something neither Stan nor I couldcontemplate. We would rather go down with the ship so to speak, than to saveour buns, but have your heart ripped out. When we finally decided to come home,it was after much prayer ~ 6 months in fact, of asking for direction.Stan has shared this dream/vision in interviews before so I’ll just referencethe barest outline. He was shown this exact location, where we live now,looking southwest to the mountains as seen from our basement window. Threetimes on the map was spelled out B E U L A H, which is the small town we seefrom that perspective. When he lifted his head, an invisible hand pushed hisface down again to look carefully at the map. It doesn’t get much clearer thanthat.In 2001 when we came home and for many years before that, Stan knew thatAmerica would be taken out of the picture. Then, more than a decade ago, Ididn’t have a firm grasp on that concept. Not really. All I could think aboutwas coming home to Colorado. So even though Stan knew this will not end wellfor our Nation, he obeyed the Lord and moved us where he was shown.

So chances are when things go south globally, it will be perceived as America’sfault if not in actuality.

Rightnow you might be contemplating moving out of America or perhaps you’ve alreadydone so.
Maybethe natives are friendly now, but how will they treat you if you are seen asthe cause of their new-found misery?
You maynot be directly responsible, but you will be the bull’s-eye of their hatred,for deep inside you will always be American.When America goes down, the world will too, and while the entire world grievesour destruction, poo rolls downhill and attaches to all in its path. RememberRevelation 18:9-20?Where will people get the better-made goods and to whom will they sell alltheir stuff? Aren’t we the great consumers?

A lotof people have posed the question: just exactly what or who in scripture isBabylon?
What isMystery Babylon?
It’shard to believe that it could only be a literal place because while there aremillions of Christians in this country, most would not have the financial meansto pick up sticks and move across the world.
Whatcountry would take in millions and millions of fleeing Americans?Consider that it’s no one thing, but a system, a religion, and a place. Entiretreatises are devoted to this subject and Mystery Babylon is not the point ofthis message so please don’t write me on this.
Thiswas a rhetorically-posed question only.What is hoped by this author is for those thinking of moving abroad that youconsider all ramifications rationally and carefully.
Do not romanticize such a move.
Thereis nothing romantic about it.
It isdifficult and expensive and one that will leave wounds in your heart you can’teven imagine. Then pray about it. If the Lord shows you unquestionably toleave, then do so and He will take care of you.I love our country, but not its government. It has become a corrupt andcontemptible machine.
Whilethis Nation resembles little of what it used to be even 25 years ago, it isstill the best place and I’m glad to be home.Regardless, make your preparations as quickly as possible. So many, many peoplefeel ~ Stan and I included ~ time is running out on nearly every front.Getting a new place ready and fully equipped, whether within the U.S. orabroad, takes time and considerable money. The dilemma is well summed up by the’70s punk rock band, The Clash in ShouldI Stay or Should I Go? ~
“IfI go there will be trouble, if I stay, it will be double.”
Whateveryou decide, Godspeed.
Holly Deyo is a writer and researcher who hasproduced books including GardenGold and Dareto Prepare!  Her website Milliennium-Ark is a must-read to keep up to date on newsfrom around the web on a wide variety of topics.
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