Where is home? Immigrants’ edition.
When someone asks where home is for me, my initial response is Belgrade. That’s where I was born, went to school, had my first date, and the first heartbreak. That’s where I have a group of close friends I have known forever. Where I have my absolute favourite coffee place. That’s where I speak the language I use to count to ten and beyond.
But that’s not where I had my first job, first flat or where I met my soulmate. Belgrade is not where I learned how to cook, manage bills and money. That’s not where I learned (the hard way) to make a difference between good and bad people. When I was 24, I moved to Berlin and turned it into my ‘new’ home.
However, Berlin is not where I started my adult life — England is. In my late twenties, my partner and I moved to the British countryside. That is where I learned to prioritise, grow my career, save and invest money. Hertfordshire is where I seriously started thinking about my future as a grown-up.
The moment you move your life to a new country, home stops being a place. Instead, it becomes a feeling of peace and comfort that allows personal growth.
For me, home is now sitting next to my sleeping dog on a rainy day in Belgrade. Home is watching a film on the couch with my partner, in our house in Hertfordshire. Home is walking down the Kastanienallee in Berlin, especially when it’s sunny.
Sadly, moving abroad is a necessity for a lot of people. And it’s often not glamorous at all. Wars, poverty, financial difficulties — you name it. In some cases, it’s not even your decision. That’s when it all hurts much more.
But regardless of your “why”, the moment you start paying bills in a new country, complaining about the traffic, weather, or the government, that place is your new home, and nothing is the same again. You grow as a person in an inexplicable way, and you are changed forever. All the wounds you get trying to fit in become scars you start wearing with pride. It’s your new shiny armour.
For some people, this is sad. Whenever I joke about it, my British friends (who at best had a ‘gap year’) don’t laugh. They look at me with pity and try to find an appropriate response.
On the other hand, I find it amazing. Moving to a new country makes your heart grow and fill with love you didn’t know could exist. Your mind broadens, and you learn new traditions, expressions, and ways of living day-to-day life. Sometimes even a new language. It’s just like travelling, and at the same time, nothing like it.
In recent years, the concept of the nomadic lifestyle and remote working became very popular. I have read interviews where people who tried it claim it makes them feel like citizens of the world. Sounds good, but is it true? My impression is that they get stuck in the honeymoon phase and love everything about their new location. The food is exotic, the overall system is so much better than in their home country, people are all so welcoming.
That’s great, and I definitely want to try it very soon, but it can’t be compared with moving abroad. Life needs to be a little bit boring sometimes. That’s how we grow.
Not knowing the local language hurts and makes you feel stupid.
Not understanding how banking works can cause some serious damage.
Not having friends feels lonely.
But then you push yourself, maybe cry a little, get super uncomfortable, and all of a sudden, you’re a new person, with a new home. You meet parts of your soul you never knew you had.
Moving to a new country is difficult, but if you’re ready to try, it’s worth it. If you’re reading this and seriously thinking about moving, consider this your sign.
