So we've landed back in Tana. Usually I feel a little rocky when traveling between the first and third world, if I may use this old-fashioned, politically incorrect term. My mother's favorite saying that translates into something like: men may travel on a horse but the soul follows on foot, is even more accurate these days when you can cross a distance of 5,000 miles in 11 hours.
Lost in my own home
Although I am used to living in two worlds, returning to our house in Mada felt different this time. I took a rather long break, the longest ever, during which time I did not think very often about Madagascar. I have to admit that in my country, Holland, Madagascar does not really live. Anyway, when we came back home last night after having traveled in six countries where we slept in at least 20 different beds, I had the strangest sensation: I felt lost in my own house. Literally. For example: I could not find the sugar anymore, nor the coffee cups and I kept opening the wrong cup boards. This has never happened to me before. For a little while I thought I was having a few senior moments, but my daughter had the same: she too could not locate the sugar anymore!
Home is where...
Fortunately it was only a matter of time, after a day I opened all the right kitchen cabinets again. But it made me re-think about the question: where is my home? What does 'home' mean to me? Home is where the heart it, says the famous proverb, but what does that mean? Is my heart where my family is, where my roots are, where I'm working and living, or where I can find the sugar without any trouble. These questions are particularly valid being an expat.
I've found my answer: home is where I open the kitchen cabinets and at once find exactly what I need without any hesitation!
Lost in my own home
Although I am used to living in two worlds, returning to our house in Mada felt different this time. I took a rather long break, the longest ever, during which time I did not think very often about Madagascar. I have to admit that in my country, Holland, Madagascar does not really live. Anyway, when we came back home last night after having traveled in six countries where we slept in at least 20 different beds, I had the strangest sensation: I felt lost in my own house. Literally. For example: I could not find the sugar anymore, nor the coffee cups and I kept opening the wrong cup boards. This has never happened to me before. For a little while I thought I was having a few senior moments, but my daughter had the same: she too could not locate the sugar anymore!
Home is where...
Fortunately it was only a matter of time, after a day I opened all the right kitchen cabinets again. But it made me re-think about the question: where is my home? What does 'home' mean to me? Home is where the heart it, says the famous proverb, but what does that mean? Is my heart where my family is, where my roots are, where I'm working and living, or where I can find the sugar without any trouble. These questions are particularly valid being an expat.
I've found my answer: home is where I open the kitchen cabinets and at once find exactly what I need without any hesitation!
I can only agree with you Susanne. After 8 wonderful weeks in Denmark, I woke up in my own bed Tuesday, - and couldn't find out where I were, - and why the door was in that part of the room.... But now, I'm happy to be back and have found the "sugar in the right cubboard" ;-) And we're all preparing for school start on Monday. All the best to you, and thanks for a great week in Blokhus :-)))) Annegitte & Co. xxx
ReplyDeleteI am sure the Sugar is saying "Welcome Home". I really enjoy keeping up with you, we miss you very much in Belize. Hugs and Kisses to Michel and Sol.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to your latest blog. Home is where I wake up in the morning.
ReplyDelete