I remember having a conversation with one of my aunts at my parents (then) new house during one of my vacations. She asked about how I feel about being at home.
'Home? I miss home' I replied
'But you are home' she interjected
'My home is in NL, this is my parents', not mine.'
It was a weird vacation. There I was at my parents' and I had homesick. I missed my home. My (then 7077 miles away) tiny place in a tiny land. Until that point I'd never had a thought to call Holland home. Before, I had this love hate relationship with Holland. With its gloomy weather: it is grey most of the time, too windy and too much rain. Its flat topography: mount St. Peter is only 300 meter high (yeah, I know!), I live in a place 7 meter below the sea-level yet price of seafood is high. Its foods: raw herring (yum), drop(yuke), bitterballen(hmm), patat met or patat oorlog (lekker!), and milk produce (hmmm), to name a few. Its people with their sobering take on things and their way of gezelligheid. And of course its liberalism and Dutch tolerance.
I guess Holland grew on me. It wasn't love at the first sight like it was with Barcelona. Holland snuck up on me while I wasn't looking.
I know some would see me as a snob, calling
Holland as my home. I don’t care, it is just how I see and feel it at this moment. It is home where I can do what ever I want, when I want it, with who ever I want to do it with. It is home where I can safely be myself and by myself. It's home in the sense that it's the only place I've been for the longest stretch in my life.
Growing up I moved from place to place, the longest one being 6 years in a row in one small town. I remember feeling envious when a friend of mine told me about him living in the same flat for 22 years. His home. How I wish I had that luxury. The closest thing I have is living up here for more than one third of my life. So sue me for being snob.
Indonesia represents my roots, my upbringing, my carefree youth and my early education. While Holland is the country where I (mis)spent my adulthood, where I fell in and out of love(s), where I lost and found myself.
I still am Indonesian, with Indonesian passport. Yet I feel out of touch with Indonesia. I have no clue who’s who in Indonesian politics, or entertainment industry for that matter. I have no clue how much things cost in Rupiah, except for the price of a kilo of baby corn is Rp. 12000 in Jakarta as my mom mentioned it the other day.
However, when I am up here in Holland I feel nostalgia for Indonesia. Its foods. Its climate. And, oh, the fact that we have maids. Yes, I am spoilt that way. I really miss having maid when I am sick and have to take care of myself, when my RSI acting up and I have to do household chores. Yes, you can get sick from eating at kakilima's. Yes, 35 degrees is now to hot for me to function properly and I can't stand airco so I'd be damned. And yes, sometimes having maids suck. Despite all, I'm still longing for Indonesia that I knew of. The one that I left behind.
Maybe I am just doomed to long for Indonesia when I am in Holland and to long for Holland when I am in Indonesia and yet never truly, completely feel at home at neither places.
Tell me, how many homes is one allowed to have?
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