I was never the person who saw her life living in one place. From a young age, the idea of settling down in one city felt confining. There was always a part of me that was curious, chasing the thrill of new experiences, people, and opportunities. As fate would have it, my life has become a tale of two cities; each holding a piece of my heart.
It’s been almost seven years since I left my hometown. I like to think the country I moved to chose me, as it was so random that it felt like destiny, though I didn’t realise it at the time. So, I accepted the job offer, packed up my stuff and moved to Poland, without having any idea what was going to happen. I imagined it would be a cool year-long adventure – at most, a stepping stone. Little did I know that this “temporary” move would turn my life upside down and now, I am still here.
One thing I could always count on was my hometown not changing its vibe. No matter what was happening in my life or in the world, a walk in my neighbourhood showed the same people at the same places. The same coffee spots were occupied for hours on weekends. The same loud conversations, gossip, and laughter were exchanged between friends. “You are not going to believe what happened to so and so.” Same observations flew around about the weather, people’s outfits, and local politics. In the corner of the city centre, there was always the same group of men who sold foreign currencies and could help you with legit or even shady business. Summers were always hot, and autumns were always rainy. There is a certain beauty in that routine. Everyone has a place in the small ecosystem.
For the last seven years I have been building life in a new, bigger ecosystem, with its own rules and routines. It’s different people at different places, waiting in line wherever you go. Bright lights, big city, hustle and bustle. Meeting strangers, both exciting and disappointing. Coffee spots that no one occupies for hours, but takes a coffee to go and is on the way out. Quiet public places. People knowing exactly where to stand in the metro to exit faster and rush to their destinations. Chilling in parks on weekends because there are so many of them. Summer evenings with daylight by 10 pm. Dancing in the large crowd on the steps on 1950s building, to the hits of 2000s (a millenial fever dream) and feeling like finally you belong in the crowd.
Somewhere around the third year of living in this place, I started calling the new city my home. This is eventually where I am building my life; this is where my apartment, plants, books, and friends are. But it also opened up a question of identity, loneliness, and sense of life – who am I between all of these places? What does home actually mean and where is it? Is home really only a town you are just a guest in, or something more?
I’ve come to learn it is both where I came from and where I live now. Each place has shaped me- one in my early years and the other in my late adulthood.
While beautiful and exciting, it’s also gut-wrenching to miss out on the small everyday things—my hometown friends’ milestones, my family, the familiar weather, coffee catch-ups, and spring in my old neighbourhood. Nowadays, when I come back, I see it – not only have I changed, but my hometown has changed too. There are new kids on the block, new buildings, and streets I’ve never heard of. I can’t make up for what I missed, no matter if I try hard or not. While familiar, it no longer feels entirely mine.
Yet, I always find comfort in coming back to the well known rhythm of my hometown, where life continues at the same steady pace. The way people respond and laugh away at same old, same old. It reminds me of where I come from, it reminds me of childhood joys and simplicity. I am aware I am full-on romanticising the comfort at this point; almost like a Hallmark holiday movie. But, real life awaits after the closing credits.
Similarly, the city I live in now isn’t fully mine either: I am learning the language, making friends, I create routines, I have all my favourite things and places. However, despite all the effort and occasional victories through language and cultural barriers, the place wasn’t fully mine to begin with. Sometimes, you feel like a stranger in both places, belonging and yet not quite.
At times like that, I remember to be grateful that I actually get to live this life. I wanted to live abroad, see the world, and I am figuring out the way to do it. It comes with its privileges, adventures, failures and challenges; it really is the best of times and the worst of times sometimes. For now, it seems home is not just where my mostly still alive plants (R.I.P. to my orchid) are; it’s where I find familiar places, routines, adventure and fun. It’s a place of comfort that I come back to. For me, that place of comfort will always be between multiple cities, or at least a tale of two.
Home is where I want to be, but I guess I’m already there. This must be the place.
👏🙌🫶
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