#there is a hc to be had here on how flor changes between the start (teal mask) and after becoming champion (indigo disk)

[shootingstareon]

meeting you

[bites-kms]

Home Sweet Home

For the last 4 years, I’ve been living what I like to call a “gypsy style”. The first time I left my parents house, I was 25 and I went off the whole way: I moved half way across the world. I moved to Ho Chi Ming City seeking for an opportunity to grow, betting on a love story and eagerness to eat the world. The brief was simple and clear: find the perfect location. In a city where there are more bikes than people, having the chance to sneak around and conquer the streets -and the heat- by foot felt like winning the lottery. By this I was earning independence and I was keeping my freedom, without needing to resort to any kind of transportation but my will and my feet. 

It was the first time I was making that amount of money (1500 usd/month!) and I felt rich. I didnt mind about the apartment as long as it felt cozy and it was well located. It was our first apartment together. Yes, we lived together in Montevideo before but this was finally “ours”. We didnt have an oven, a challenge we learned to overcome. I ended up fixing the bathroom cabinet with some wrapping paper I went and bought on a stationary store near by. It was a serviced apartment with the sweetest cleaning staff who came three times a week and the lovely “e-moi” doormen. Those people were part of my Vietnamese family. I didnt care about not having a couch, or having mismatching knives and forks. I didnt care we didnt have proper utensils. It was actually better: the only thing we needed to carry away with us the day we would leave were the fridge magnets. We made tv-weekend marathons, and locked ourselves indoors during rainy season, with only one window on the “living room” from where we could stare and admire the rain drops and thunderstorms. We had ants and/or termites eating our rented furniture and food. But, regardless... 44 Ngyuen Phi Khan was paradise. I loved it there. It was casita. I was extremely happy. I really didnt want to leave.

A year and 2 months later, I struggled for 2 weeks, homeless, spending free nights in Arlanda Radisson Blue Airport, a lot of money on an Airbnb in Huddinge, Greater Stockholm Area until a miracle happened thanks to Fabrizio and Sodertorn University: I found my 14 months home in Sweden: Kanslivagen 13 at Riksten. At the beginning, it was quite a struggle: a dirty kitchen, and an even dirtier toilet. No control over the heater and a cold winter approaching. I lost the only bus that passed by multiple times and mis-matched the pendeltag that took me to civilization. Until, one good day, I finally made it my home. It was my first and only student apartment but I managed to make it super cozy with just the desk, a chair, a bed, a kitchenette with a bar that were already there and a DIY table I painted myself. I couldnt resist the urge of going to Ikea and armed myself with local artifacts made in Sverige - which of course they later crossed oceans to reach my following destination. It was far away and small, so I didnt have many people over, only my friend Angelica for a couple of blog lunches and Flor the moment I first moved in and the moment I needed to move out. When my parents arrived, the air mattress occupied the whole room. It was with great joy that I slowly made it a home. A cozy place. A Swedish place, with candles, love for food, memories with neighbors - other Erasmus exchange students-  and a lot of Ikea products. When the ICA, the local supermarket opened on its corner, it changed my life completely. And when the spring sprung, that was also a game changer. Although it was wonderful waking up to a snowy window and a white forrest, seeing the flowers bloom through the snow and getting the bus slowed down due to a deer crossing the road was something I’ll never forget. I was so sad to leave when I couldnt renew my lease. 

After 3 month living in Flemingsberg, in an apartment I didnt feel like my own, sleeping on the living room where the TV was and using the bedroom to put down all my luggage, I moved back to Asia. This time, to Singapore. I bounced for a month between what it used to be my home with my person to my rented serviced apartment the company chose for me, few blocks away from my new job. Trying to find a place where to feel safe, where to grow, where to dare to be myself again while dealing with a broken heart was difficult. Choosing not moving back with him was one of the toughest yet wisest choices I’ve ever made. I first saw and loved a place in River Valley, not too close yet not too far either from his place, but the agent was not willing to negotiate. Found one right next to his friend’s place, a few blocks away, 10 to 15 minutes walk from his. And that’s when I formally decided and moved in to 524 Kampong Bahru Road. 

The apartment had a weird distribution: at first it got me excited, later on I thought of multiple ways to make it better. The kitchen was nice. It was the only time in my life that I had Smeg appliances and they were as good as they looked. I had a bomb shelter, a quiet view to a green little forrest, a pool I hardly ever used and a voodoo master and/or witch who was living right next to me with tons of cats by some temple ruins (I believe the only ruins on that central part of the island). Kampong Bahru was my shelter, my hood and also my cave and prison. I didnt get furniture, because again, I knew I was moving, I knew this was temporary. I already got all my utensils from Stockholm so I only needed some details. Only few people were able to come and I’m happy they were all meaningful people and friends I met in Singapore: Lari, Hersheys, Lizi, Sameer and stop counting. I wish I had a better place and opportunity to host all those wonderful souls I met along the way. 

And when the time to move had finally arrived, regardless of my attempts to sell my beloved stuff, I ended up donating all of them to the Church. It was a symbolic fresh start. It was a metaphorical cleansing. Donating all the things I love to people that need them would provide those items with more love from their new owners. And that was all that mattered: leaving Singapore - with all that it implies - full of love, with a smile and in peace. 

And now... after this crazy roller coaster that started years ago on the 15th of September 2014, after 1405 days, 6 countries, and endless miles in my millage account - although not as many as the tears this ex-pat life decision costed me- I can finally say I reached home. A table.. that’s the power of a table. I bought a massive furniture that connects me to my roots, to my pleasure of cooking and eating, of celebrating, of creating. It will allow me to host parties, dinners, thanks and friendsgivings. It’s creating a little anchor. It’s baptizing my home. So... this is it... I’m staying. NYC, you’re home now. 

I needed a moment to soak everything in. I looked at my living room. I saw the water tank outside my window. I winked at the Crysler building between the clouds. I laid over by the edge of my bedroom door. I took a big, deep breath and a massive glance around. I looked up, in compliance with all those people who I met along my way and helped me reached here. I thought about my parents and the Nonos. I know how proud they are of me. I’m proud of myself.

I made it. I’m living the life I dreamed of. Without knowing it, I knew I wanted to come to NYC (who doesnt want to live here once during her or his lifetime?) and I always thought it was very unlikely. But... I guess the other pitstops were just trampolines for the big jump. 

The NYC jump. The grown up jump. The jump that lead me home. 

That blind leap of faith. 

I felt it this Saturday, when after some long, stressful hours I could managed to assemble this beautiful Ikea Fanbyn Bar Table (that’s what I call “full circle”) by-myself!. I later placed the 4 beautiful stolls I found on the streets of Greenpoint, which we later hand crafted, refurnished and upholstered with my Dad, the wonderful art piece my talented friend HC gifted me in Singapore, with the 2 vases I got on my blog ventures in Sweden, only then, I could definitely say this is it. I’m home.