Homebase & Homesick
So I went to bed feeling resolved. When I awoke, I called my real estate agent to confirm that I would take the small serviced apartment I saw in District 1 that was walking distance to school, my good friend, and a nice yoga studio. The clincher was that it only required a one-month deposit and was a three-month lease. I was trading size and my amazing view for proximity and flexibility. The extra bedroom had meant that I’d finally “made it” and eagerly awaited visitors. But in truth, it would only be occupied for 1% of my time in Saigon and I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. Furthermore, the indoor space I wanted for hosting dinners and house parties is not needed (evidenced by the lack of ovens in all kitchens and abundance of free food delivery). Restaurants, takeaway, bars and nights on the town prevail. And the outdoor space that I thought would need to counteract the traffic, noise and crowds of the downtown is still available anytime I want to hop on a xe om (motorbike taxi) and visit my friends in D7. I need more time to let go of the life I loved in Jordan and reframe my thinking to enjoy how things happen here.
That also goes for my partner, colleagues and dear friends in Jordan, all of whom I miss immensely. Knowing that they have regrouped and are having great fun (as they should) makes me feel as if I’m missing out. As I go through the challenges of adjusting to a new country, I keep wishing I could call them or curl up on their couches to talk. Leaving my partner has been especially difficult. I am intensely homesickness; however, home for me is not the US, home is where I have flourished for the last two years. I am fighting the fantasy of returning to Jordan. What would I return to? I was ready to move on from my job. Many friends have or will soon move away, and those who stay will adjust to my absence. The barriers in my romantic relationship will still be there. I always knew that leaving that life behind would be hard, but that realization hasn’t helped much in midst of the emotional aftermath. The expat life has provided so many blessings that I would not change for the world, but it has also been filled with tough choices and painful farewells.
So I went to bed feeling resolved. When I awoke, I called my real estate agent to confirm that I would take the small serviced apartment I saw in District 1 that was walking distance to school, my good friend, and a nice yoga studio. The clincher was that it only required a one-month deposit and was a three-month lease. I was trading size and my amazing view for proximity and flexibility. The extra bedroom had meant that I’d finally “made it” and eagerly awaited visitors. But in truth, it would only be occupied for 1% of my time in Saigon and I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. Furthermore, the indoor space I wanted for hosting dinners and house parties is not needed (evidenced by the lack of ovens in all kitchens and abundance of free food delivery). Restaurants, takeaway, bars and nights on the town prevail. And the outdoor space that I thought would need to counteract the traffic, noise and crowds of the downtown is still available anytime I want to hop on a xe om (motorbike taxi) and visit my friends in D7. I need more time to let go of the life I loved in Jordan and reframe my thinking to enjoy how things happen here.
That also goes for my partner, colleagues and dear friends in Jordan, all of whom I miss immensely. Knowing that they have regrouped and are having great fun (as they should) makes me feel as if I’m missing out. As I go through the challenges of adjusting to a new country, I keep wishing I could call them or curl up on their couches to talk. Leaving my partner has been especially difficult. I am intensely homesickness; however, home for me is not the US, home is where I have flourished for the last two years. I am fighting the fantasy of returning to Jordan. What would I return to? I was ready to move on from my job. Many friends have or will soon move away, and those who stay will adjust to my absence. The barriers in my romantic relationship will still be there. I always knew that leaving that life behind would be hard, but that realization hasn’t helped much in midst of the emotional aftermath. The expat life has provided so many blessings that I would not change for the world, but it has also been filled with tough choices and painful farewells.
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