For as long I’ve known, I’ve been a bit of
a vagabond. Not in the sense of a tramp; I like to have a roof above my head
and preferably a nice one if I can help it! Don’t call me spoiled, but I do
appreciate some comfort. Like a soft warm bed, a good shower and some personal
space. A place like that can be found anywhere, at least that’s what I like to
think. In my own home, I have created it for myself. When away it doesn’t seem
to take much effort either.
Nevertheless there’s more than meets the
eye. A variety of countries I visited gave me a sense of belonging soon after I
set foot on their soil. Like I could live there, or I would want to! Or at
least that I wanted to return, perhaps time and time again… Egypt was – and
perhaps is – such a place. First time I visited I was quite sure it wouldn’t be
long till my next visit. That was indeed the case: it took less than 3 months.
In fact, I did go back a couple of times within less than a year and ended up
moving there by the end of it. Call it Kismet, but casually I had applied for a
job in Cairo and before I knew it, it was handed to me on a silver plate..
Moving to a country that is so fundamentally different to the one where you’re from can’t be easy, yet I had that sense of belonging. It could take me off guard at the strangest moments. One of my favourite was when driving back home from work on that awful Ring Road. We would get stuck in traffic on an almost daily basis, which would allow me with plenty of time to look around and soak in everything I saw. Rural migrants risking their lives trying to cross over as if they were still back home, unfinished buildings by the roadside (because living next to a highway is posh!), bilingual signs with funny spelling ‘mistakes’ in English, a thick layer of dust everywhere and palm trees. Palm trees! It would never fail to hit me with a small, sharp pang. Oh my god, I’m living in a country with palm trees!! It would take me home with a sense of gratitude.
Moving to a country that is so fundamentally different to the one where you’re from can’t be easy, yet I had that sense of belonging. It could take me off guard at the strangest moments. One of my favourite was when driving back home from work on that awful Ring Road. We would get stuck in traffic on an almost daily basis, which would allow me with plenty of time to look around and soak in everything I saw. Rural migrants risking their lives trying to cross over as if they were still back home, unfinished buildings by the roadside (because living next to a highway is posh!), bilingual signs with funny spelling ‘mistakes’ in English, a thick layer of dust everywhere and palm trees. Palm trees! It would never fail to hit me with a small, sharp pang. Oh my god, I’m living in a country with palm trees!! It would take me home with a sense of gratitude.
The other day I was struck with that sense
of belonging once again. Oddly enough, I was in the region where I was born and
raised. At the tender age of eighteen, I had pretty much ran away, out into the
world. I have always loved its flatness, its emptiness with only distant rows
of trees and scattered farms for variation. Even the greyness of the water and
the sky would put my mind at ease, bringing me back to the days where I had
just left and still felt the urge to visit on a regular basis.
Last time around something upset me.
Driving around with my beloved I enjoyed pointing out all of these places from
a more and more distant past. I was entertaining myself with the thought how I
had escaped the ugliness of all the cheap modern buildings. A lot of distinct
land marks had disappeared over time. That’s when it hit me: the place from my
childhood is slowly fading away. This place looks nothing like home anymore..
photos from:
* http://www.ptank.com/blog/tag/cairo/
* http://www.omroepzeeland.nl/nieuws/2013-05-08/430306/bluswater-wetteren-mogelijk-over-dagen-pas-westerschelde#.UpR8bWS1W68
* http://www.ptank.com/blog/tag/cairo/
* http://www.omroepzeeland.nl/nieuws/2013-05-08/430306/bluswater-wetteren-mogelijk-over-dagen-pas-westerschelde#.UpR8bWS1W68