Trine Blogs – Home

I often think about the meaning of the word “home”. I use it all the time to describe the destination I’m going to, and it’s often confusing for people when I say I’m going home. Does it mean to my place in Tilburg? Does it mean to my boyfriend’s place? Does it mean to my mum or dad’s place? Does it mean to Denmark in general? What does it mean?

Honestly, I don’t know. I wonder if moving around so much has disabled my definition of “home” – or perhaps enabled me to set up a makeshift in whatever location I’m in. We moved abroad to Zimbabwe when I was 6, and returned when I was 10. Since that time we moved around a fair amount of times, lived in different houses, different cities. My parents divorced, which meant another change of houses. I started university and moved again. During my BA I was offered the opportunity to study in Glasgow, Scotland, and I grabbed it instantly. Another move. And then I finished my studies and came here. Everywhere I’ve lived has been “home”. But it’s always been temporary.

Sometimes, on the train, I look out the window and I get that feeling you get when you’re on vacation. Do you know which one I mean? The one you get when you just watch the scenery, take in the people and the buildings and the traffic, and you feel like you’re far from home. It’s a bit exciting, and it’s a bit strange, and it’s not “home”.

Really, though, the Dutch landscape resembles the Danish one a fair bit when you’re just looking out the window of a train (though one might argue that all blurs look the same). But it’s flat here. So flat. I was thrilled by that in the beginning (rejoicing that I would never have to bike uphill with the wind against me for a while) but… it’s not right, it being so flat. Where do you go sleighing in the winter? Where do the “nisser” live? Where are the ancestors buried? I miss my hills and all the memories and lore contained within them.

I’m looking forward to going home for Christmas. And here I mean just back to Denmark, back into the laps of my family and friends. It’s funny – I came here to get away from the mentality I disliked so much, to get a change of scenery, to pursue something that felt right. To satisfy the restlessness in me. I hadn’t expected I’d miss what I left behind this much. Funny how life goes.

Here’s one of my favourite songs about home. They say home is where the heart is, but what if your heart is split over two countries, between all your loved ones? I’ve met some wonderful people here that I’m not willing to give up any time soon, I’ve made a nice little “home” for myself in my room. But outside… It’s still not the same. I wonder if anything will ever truly feel like home.

How do you build a new home? I’ve heard that you make cats feel more at home in a new place by rubbing their paws with butter. They’ll lick it off and feel more comfortable and at ease. Butter is nice and all, but somehow I don’t think that’s the trick here…

Trine Larsen (23) from Denmark studies Management of Cultural Diversity at Tilburg University and blogs for Univers.

_Advertentie.