Why I, a German Living in the Philippines, Think About Filipinos in Germany

I’ve been living here for a long time. I have a Filipina partner, we have a child. We’re about to move to Germany — not forever, but for years. And I’m thinking.

Not about Germany. I know that place, I grew up there. I’m thinking about my partner.

Because I know what she’ll miss.

Here, you’re never alone. You need help? Someone shows up. You’re sad? Someone notices. There’s always someone ready for you, everywhere. Nobody asks if you want help — it’s just there. That’s how it is here. That’s how you are.

In Germany, nobody sees you unless you show yourself. Nobody catches you unless you say you’re falling. Not because Germans are cold — but because respect there means: I won’t interfere. It’s expected that you can handle it. And if you can’t, that you’ll say so.

The system there works. Health insurance, child benefits, employment office — everything runs. Processes, not people. Reliable, fair, predictable. But quiet.

Many Filipinos there have jobs, speak the language, are integrated. On the outside, everything’s fine. On the inside, something’s missing.

Both paths have their price. Here, you pay with obligation — utang na loob, no help comes free. There, you pay with silence.

I’m not writing this to discourage anyone. I’m writing this for everyone who dreams of going to Germany — or of having a German partner — and only thinks about the good parts. There are good parts. But that’s not all there is.

Why does this affect me?

We’re leaving soon. Partner, child, me. Stability, education, future — that’s the plan. But I already know: when our child is grown, we’ll come back. Here.

Germany gives you structure. The Philippines gives you belonging. I need both. But I want to grow old in a place where you’re not alone — even when you didn’t ask.

That’s what’s on my mind. I’m curious what you think.