2011 to 2021. Ten years during which it barely limped along there in the end. Even now I remember my enthusiasm starting it up; I was still in Toronto, inside my tiny mid-town apartment surrounded by boxes, trying to decide what's going to cross the ocean and what's staying behind. I left so many things. I didn't fully believe in the permanence of the move, no expat does. Immigrants do. And I remember thinking about how interesting it would be to document the details of my move to Romania in blog form. I chose the name expatro because I was an expat in everything but nationality. I had some family here and spoke the language, badly, but you're not anywhere close to native until you clash, repeatedly, against the new system, adapt to its rules, and blend into the tapestry by adopting local mannerisms. My return to Romania, though expatriate in form, was at its core a repatriation. The motherland reclaiming a long lost son, that kind of thing. But these technicalities a