“Whenever you talk about your country and your family, you always have the biggest smile on your face”, my colleague told me over lunch when we were talking about the Christmas holidays. I explained to him it’s because going home is something special and I’m allowed to be as nostalgic as I want. I can dream about that life there is better, that people are happier and that the air is cleaner. And flats are cheaper.
But at the end of the day, I live here in London and I have lived here for the past 6 years. Praising your hometown and country is very different from actually living there and now I’ve been away for such a long time that if I went back home I would praise London instead.
Actually, I do it already. I tell my mother that there are no decent restaurants, everything it’s too expensive and there are no raw prawns at the supermarket (you know, the criteria every city must meet).
It seems impossible to be happy with what you’ve got, but at least I’ve got two places I consider home. And seeing these sceneries covered in snow come Christmas will make me forget about the raw prawns in a jiffy. Should they be covered in slush however…. let’s not even go there.