Feeling at home in my new home

I never really thought about my cultural values when I lived in my home country. It is not that I wasn’t aware of them, I was, but it was so ingrained in me that there was no need to think about it, I lived it. It was something that we all shared and because of it, there was no need to be reminded of it, it just took place in our commonly shared experiences. We all knew what to expect from each other in how to behave, to think about certain things, our values, in general. And I don’t mean that we all had to have the same opinion about everything, certainly not, and that was ok, but we saw the world through the same lenses and shared the same worldview. In a certain way it brought some comfort, a comfort I only understood or became aware of later on.

After migrating permanently to a new country, I felt the loss of my cultural environment and some of the clues that glued and defined my sense of self, my identity. I remembered that what mostly affected me was being deprived of taking things for granted. In the beginning, I felt the excitement of exploring the new place, everything seemed different, and the difference carried in itself some curiosity, it was fascinating. But my excitement about the new faded away the more I got used to, and I was left with a feeling that it was lacking what constituted me- like knowing the restaurant which served my favorite food, showing up at my best friend’s home without planning in advance, being able to speak my language… How I missed the sounds of my language after a couple months living abroad! I remember how much my throat muscles hurt in adjusting to sounds of the new language. How I missed the sense of heat in my skin from my home’s hot weather. I missed so much that I turned the heater on so high to the point that I could sweat so I could feel in my skin that sensation. Does it seem crazy for you? For me it was nourishing, and helped me to deal with my loss of the sense of belonging and the threats on my identity. I needed things and to do things that brought back my sense of self, which reminded me of who I was and what I liked, which brought my own home to the new place where I was now. Some American friends told me that after feeling so homesick, going to a McDonalds and ordering a Big Mac brought back to them the feeling of what meant to be at home. Lucky Americans that there is one McDonalds everywhere around the world, and we face the challenge of bringing home to our new home.