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Which Wh- question is it to you?
I’m writing this post not from Vietnam, where I moved to last March to join my better half, but from my parents’ home in Thailand during a three-week visit. As I’m typing out these words, dad is finishing up his healthy boiled egg-tomato breakfast (it’s actually delicious), and mom is busy sweeping the floor of our two-storey home.
“Home”—today’s keyword. For some, it’s a place. For others, it’s the people. For me, it’s a combination.
When I moved into our flat in Vietnam, I immediately felt at home. Our one-bedroom, then two-bedroom became my world, my snug little corner where I can be myself, work, rest, and play. It wasn’t so much the place, but because my partner was there. To me, he’s always felt like home, even only a few weeks into the relationship.
It took a while—just over a year to be exact—for the physical apartment to feel like home. I remember the shift distinctly. I was out all morning doing meetings for my company and thanks to my (former) phone’s super-fast discharge (read: fucked up) battery, I had to head home mid-afternoon to charge my phone.1 That day, as I plopped myself down on the living room couch and began flicking through our TV channels, for the first time, I felt at home.
Flying back to Thailand a week ago, seeing my parents at the airport, that felt like home. Sitting in the car with them as my dad drove us back felt like home. Walking into the familiar house while struggling to remember key pieces of information (mom, where are the towels???) felt like home. Sitting here now typing at the dining table feels like home.
Is it a Who? What? When? Where?
I’ve always thought my home is a Who? question, that it’s the people who make a place a home for me. I’ve felt at home in Bangkok because of the friends I made through work (I’m meeting them all in this trip, crammed into a one-week extravaganza of breakfasts, lunches, coffees, and dinners.) I’ve felt at home in Ho Chi Minh City because of the few great friends I made there (I can count them all in one hand.) I’ve felt at home in our apartment because of my partner, and in this house because of my parents.
But when I really thought about it, I discovered that not to be true. Home is also a What? for me. The mug from Prague I’m using in our Ho Chi Minh City apartment every morning. The Little Prince coaster I forgot to bring from Thailand that’s felt like a missing piece of home ever since. The small pink pillow I hug going to sleep at night in my parents’ home. The magnificent soundbar in our apartment that turns a song into a symphony. This newsletter—or rather, the act of writing. And now my new phone.2
Home is also a When? That year abroad in Paris where everything felt magical and I felt right at home strolling down the treelined boulevards. The summer working at Eurostar during the London Olympics. The one month I lived in Bavaria with my German ex. If I’m to go back to all those places, it wouldn’t feel the same. Yes, Paris would still feel magical. It’d still feel great to ride the Eurostar train. Bavaria would still be full of gorgeous beers. But it wouldn’t feel like home. The memories I made during those specific times made those places home. And going back now would be re-visiting, not re-living them.
And, of course, home is a Where? London will always feel like home to me. I spent so many years there, and going back even for a short visit has always felt like going home. The winding alleys around my partner’s old apartment in Hanoi. The bakery close to my parents’ home where I’ve been going for my cookie3 and lemon iced tea fill for over a decade.
My home is a combination of all these questions. It’s the people, the object, the time, and the place. Maybe I’m greedy, but I’d like to think having such a diversified home provides the rootedness that grounds my life and gives me comfort wherever I am.
Now for the How? question
Your home may be a diversified set like mine. Or maybe it’s purely the place, or the people, or whatever it is that feels like home to you.
But maybe you don’t feel at home anywhere. Maybe you’re about to move to a new place and wondering how you can make it a home.
To answer the How? question, you’d first have to know which Wh- question defines “home” for you. And that’s a question only you can answer.
As for me, the Who? in home is the most important aspect. So I always start by making friends. Although I already had my partner to ground me when I moved to Ho Chi Minh City, making friends of my own was top of the list. And I was extremely lucky to make one right off the bat, literally within the first few weeks of arriving.4
I’d made a couple more recently, just before leaving for Thailand. And I’m very pleased to see this network of friends expanding and excited to see where these friendships will take us.
Apart from the people, I also took the What? with me. Taking a mug from home for my morning coffee was a must, and the Prague mug made the cut. I intentionally kept up with all the activities that made me feel at home—writing, reading, café hopping. I even returned to an activity that used to make me feel at home in London but fell by the wayside in Thailand—cooking.5
For me, having the Who? and the What? was sufficient to make Vietnam feel like home. And in time, as I sat down on that couch and began surfing the channels, the Where? also clicked.
What you do to make a home for yourself is entirely up to you. It’s a deeply personal question, but one worth asking.
What do you think?
So do ask yourself this and let me know:
Which Wh- question is your home?
Is it a Who? What? When? Where? A combination, or none? And how do you make a place a home? Send a reply, leave a comment, share this with someone who feels like home.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash
If you’re wondering why I didn’t simply take my charger with me, it’s because I was also carrying important documents that I wanted to safely deposit at home before coming back out for the evening.
No more fast discharge babeh, just fast charging all the way! Thank you Xiaomi for making great phones.
Best cookies in the world, hands down.
Shout out to L. May our culinary adventures continue across time and place.
Good (and cheap) food is so plentiful in Thailand that it renders cooking obsolete.