The Englishman in Batam, Indonesia: Fourteen Years That Rewrote the Meaning of Home

I was born in the North East of England, UK. I have lived in Batam Island, Indonesia, for the past fourteen years. And I would choose it again tomorrow.

This is not a brochure. This is not a highlight reel. This is the honest account of a British expat who left, stayed, married, built, and found a life that outstripped every expectation his birth country ever set for him. It is written for the expat still weighing the leap — and for the one already living it and quietly wondering if he made the right call.

The Pull Was Always There

I never planned to leave the UK. I felt it. From very early in my working career, I carried the instinct of an old English pirate, the pull of new seas, new countries, new lives. When my first taste of Southeast Asia arrived, it did not creep up on me. It confirmed something I had always known.

The lifestyle sealed it. The sun. The freedom. The people, local and expat alike. Great projects, great teams, and a country that met me halfway before I had earned the right to expect it. I became entrenched — in the places, in the friendships, in the decision to stay.

The hardest part of leaving the North East of England was never the region itself. It was the family and the good friends who made me. The roots. The groundings. Those never leave a Geordie. But the pull forward proved stronger than the pull back, and I have never regretted the trade.

Indonesia did not just meet my expectations. It exceeded them.

How a Family Was Built

I met my wife through my admin lady. I was working seven days a week, month after month, and she asked me — quietly, kindly whether I was looking for someone. She introduced me to a friend of hers: a professional woman, beautiful and kind inside and out. That was the beginning of everything that matters.

Our son is growing up bilingual and bicultural. He speaks fluent English and near-fluent Bahasa Indonesia. He attends international school on Batam Island and has studied across several countries as our work has taken us. At home, he moves within his mother's and grandmother's world the Indonesian one and he does something that melts me every time I see it. When he greets his elders, he lowers his head and lifts their hand towards his forehead in a gesture of respect. Salim. No British boy learns that by accident. He learned it because he belongs to it.

My wife has been the bridge for all of it. I am typically English and stubborn still am to this day. She is far more easy-going, far more generous with time and patience, and she has carried our family across the cultural gaps I could not always see myself. When I was stressed, when I misread the situation, when I struggled to understand the pace and rhythm of her people, she solved it before I knew there was a problem. That is not a small thing. That is the reason our marriage works.

The Englishman's Castle

My Indonesian home sits within a housing estate on Batam Island. My neighbours are serious businesspeople in serious mansions. I am the quiet Englishman among them. My home is what I built to my dreams and expectations, and it is enough.

The mornings are the reward. Breakfast with my wife and son, pondering what the day has in store for us, taking in the awesomeness of the jungle the forest, as we would call it back home and the Singapore Strait views beyond. Maybe a walk. A drive. A round of golf with the family when the schedule allows.

The evenings match the mornings. When I return through the gated community after the day's work, my wife and son are usually waiting for me at the front of the house — a warm greeting, a smile, a cuddle from both. Taking time out for the family is what we all must do, but it seldom fits into a hectic working schedule. When it does, I sit with my son and hear about his day. His homework. His taekwondo. His swimming. His friends' stories and adventures. That rhythm carried us through Dubai. Through Egypt. And now home again in Indonesia.

The English artist Sting originally of the 1980s group The Police sang about an Englishman in New York. Using his words: I am the Englishman in Indonesia, specifically Batam Island. And the house I built here is my castle.

The Way the Workforce Receives a Man Who Stayed

Most Western expats working in the Southeast Asian region rotate in and rotate out. Some live in hotels, complete their scope, and move on. Others stay longer and leave a footprint that lasts. I have taken the second path further still embedding myself, my family, and my legacy into the island and the way I am received on site reflects it.

Across the Batam, Karimun, and Bintan yards, the local workforce know me. They know I am a professional. They know I am a family man who lives on the same island they do, living their way of life alongside them. That has earned their trust. They know that when I say the door is open, it is open. When I say I will call them, I call them. I have shown that consistently, for years, and the courtesy that comes back has been humbling a quiet, elevated respect I did not demand and will never take for granted.

Staying changes everything. It changes how you are heard, how you are trusted, and how you are welcomed.

The Honest Reckoning

I will not pretend it is easy. There are hard days. There are stresses that no expat brochure describes. And there is one concern that sits above all the others for me now that I am a family man.

Medical care.

Batam has adequate facilities for the routine but for anything serious, the reality is that you head for the ferry. Singapore General Hospital reported around 80 medical evacuation cases in 2024 and 2025, up from roughly 50 in 2023, with many patients arriving by fast ferry from Batam. The journey to a Singapore hospital is around 45 minutes across the water if you can make it, and if you can pay for it. Without robust medical insurance, a single Singapore transfer can run into tens of thousands of US dollars.

That is the honest weight of expat life here. One slip. One bad accident. One serious diagnosis. It is the concern that never quite leaves the back of my mind, and I will not lie to any reader about it.

What I Would Tell the Expat Considering the Leap

Every so often, a British engineer in his forties reaches out and asks the same question in different words. Is it worth it? Would it be worth it? Will I lose everything?

My honest answer is this. Think carefully. There is a lot of hard work here. There is a lot of challenges. There is infrastructure that looks in place and is not always so. Come across into Southeast Asia with your eyes open. Engage with the culture. Take your time to learn the differences. Be prepared to be stretched emotionally and financially in ways your birth country never asked of you.

But when you get through those first few difficult years, ask any long-term expat who has made a life here. Their answer will match mine. The life is enriched. The families are strong. The children grow up with dual heritage and dual understanding — and they grow up better than their parents, because of it. That is the point. That is the prize. You come here to better yourself, and to better your family, for the future.

It will be extremely difficult for several years. And it will be worthwhile.

A Verdict, Fourteen Years On

The InterNations Expat Insider 2025 survey ranked Indonesia 8th of 46 global destinations, placing it firmly in the world's top ten expat countries alongside Thailand, Vietnam, the UAE, and Malaysia. I did not need a survey to tell me that. I have lived the answer.

I left my North East family roots eyes open, carrying on as a stubborn Englishman with the instinct of an old pirate. I arrived in Southeast Asia and found a life I could not have designed on paper — a wife who bridges cultures with grace, a son who respects his elders, a home I built with my own vision, and a workforce that treats me with a kindness I did not earn quickly and will never take for granted.

I am the Englishman in Batam Island. This is my castle. This is my family. And this is the life that outstripped the one I was born into.

The bottom line : I would do it all again.

About Malcolm

Malcolm Garrington MPM, EngTech, ACQI, TechweldI, TechIOSH, is a senior EPC professional with over four decades of leadership across Oil & Gas, Offshore Wind, Petrochemical, Shipbuilding, and Power Generation projects spanning Africa, the Middle East, Europe, and South East Asia. He writes on leadership, culture, and the human realities of a life spent on international projects. The views expressed are personal reflections and do not represent any employer, client, or professional body.