.a home is where your butcher is (on denizens)

I’m on my way back from a week’s visit at my home in Poland. One of my homes?

I’ve been in the UK for so long, I don't know where 'home' is anymore. Born in Poland, I've lived my entire professional life in the United Kingdom, traveling extensively around the world for both work and pleasure. Not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. I would most likely have much higher quality of life and experience fewer struggles, at least during my uni times, had I remained in Poland. I watched from afar (near shore?) how Poland’s economy has been transforming from “Come to Poland, your car is already there” 90s theft jokes directed towards Germans, blocks of flats made of slabs, to one of the most beautiful countries in the world which has it all - the sea, the mountains, the wilderness, great food and the infrastructure and now thriving economy as one of the very few (and I’m saying this objectively, having seen a large part of the world).?

For better or worse, the place where we grew up usually retains an iconic status. But while it's human nature to want to have a place to belong, we also want to be special, and defining yourself as someone who once lived somewhere more interesting than the developing Ko?obrzeg, a 50 000 people beautiful Polish city, yet catered and priced for German tourists, is one way to do that. All of my family and most of my high school friends are in Poland. Some lived abroad during their uni years, some gained experience abroad, some reached high level directorship / prestigious statuses, made lots of money, and got burned out, only to return to their roots and relative safety.

Each time I return to my hometown - despite visiting a couple of times a year - I feel like that twin brother who just came back from space. Everyone has moved on, grown older, settled down, while I still carry my young, (fairly) worry-free mindset. But I guess they see the exact mirror of that.?

I feel like home in Poland, even though I left when I was 19, and I cherish every moment with my mom and friends who always find time in their busy lives to see me, because I know how fragile life is, and how shocking it feels, when you suddenly find out that someone you used to know and laugh your lungs out with, is no longer here.?

I love the fact that my neighbours and all my local bakers and butchers recognise me, that I can borrow some salt when I’m too lazy to go to a shop and that there is some kind of repetitiveness and anchored routine in all my chaotic, ever changing life.?I also love my life abroad, and the fact that I get to experience many cultures, feel welcome in not my birth countries. I never gave in to the idea that the world is hostile, life unfair, and ‘the other’ people are evil. Naive me??

I feel honoured to work on important problems and I strongly believe that had I never left, I wouldn’t have created those opportunities for myself. But when I think of returning for good, it doesn’t feel right. ?

My guess is that after so long abroad, you just can’t fit in anywhere. I have to accept a constant state of limbo where I don’t feel right here and I don’t feel right there. But inside your home, surrounded by your loved ones, you can feel right. That’s the only place you can be you.

Stick to your yard.

Historically, humans have been deeply rooted in their immediate surroundings. Mainly, because travelling was inefficient, expensive and often dangerous.

In medieval Europe, the average person rarely ventured more than 20 miles from their birthplace in their entire lifetime. The concept of leisure travel didn't become popular until the 17th century, with the rise of the "Grand Tour" among wealthy young European men. Before the industrial revolution, most people were tied to the land through agriculture or local trades, making long-distance moves impractical.

Less worrying about where to go, more focus on what veggies to grow or how to stuff that nasty fox that just ate your chickens, with a buckshot.

The implications of rootlessness

I sometimes wonder, is this global citizenship a permanent shift in human behaviour (at least for those privileged among us who get to choose), or merely a temporary whim in the grand cycle of history? Will we come full circle and start creating neo-poleis (π?λει?) - city-states, just like in ancient Greece or Roman Britain? Perhaps this will happen when we colonise Mars, and travelling once again becomes dangerous and expensive. Ironically, limited options often free us from mental burdens.?

It is now unthinkable, given how we live in our modern, globalised world where we’ve been neatly sold an American dream and joined the cult of individualism. We seek outside in hope of discovering ourselves inside, and “finding our tribe”, when all that we need may be right in front of our eyes .

Maybe Gen Z will be the defining generation of that? We’re now more aware of the environmental impact of frequent travels, so we could see a shift towards more sustainable, localised lifestyles with stronger local communities and sense of belong, that so many of us has lost.

Then, paradoxically, our ability to connect digitally with the entire world might reduce the need for physical travel, letting us "bring the world to us" rather than constantly seeking it out. And if people do eventually switch part of their lives to metaverse, exploring different places without moving their physical shells (l only hope we don’t end up as Wall-E version), maybe this would be the neo version of it??

Can you water my plants while I am away, please??

Such life of a global citizen, a denizen of the world, raises profound philosophical questions about identity, belonging, and the nature of home; when we're not bound by geographical constraints, how should we define ourselves? If we’re sum of the people who crossed our lives and the experiences across different cultures - do we risk becoming cultural chameleons, adapting superficially without deep connections??And does the freedom to go anywhere actually lead to a sense of belonging nowhere? What's the psychological cost to this rootlessness?

But if home is not a physical place, what is it??

Mental souvenirs

For now, if home is where the heart is, then by its most literal definition, my home is wherever I am. I've always been liberal in my use of the word. If I'm going to visit my mom and family, I'm going home and if I'm returning to London, or, now, oftentimes to Mallorca, I'm also going home.

For me memories, too, are cued by the physical environment. Don't you also feel that when you visit a place you used to live, these cues can cause you to revert back to the person you were when you lived there? For me, the old school notebooks, chokers and hair accessories, collection of tapes, pirated CDs and DVDs still stocked on the shelves painstakingly remind me of my terrifying German teacher, but otherwise, colourful teenage days. ?

Someone once said that

No one is ever free from their social or physical environment. And whether or not we are always aware of it, a home is a home because it blurs the line between the self and the surroundings, and challenges the line we try to draw between who we are and where we are.

I can't possibly live everywhere I once labeled home, but I can frame these places on my walls and in my photo albums. They are reminders of my many selves: the becoming-independent student in Poznan; the more adventurous person I was living briefly in Japan; the carefree spirit I embodied in the Canarias, living and working in an RV; the hot-blooded, hand-gesticulating (okay, that actually stayed) girlfriend I was in Naples; and the most ambitious version of myself I've been in London. As long as I am standing firmly on the ground, I know I will find my way in any situation and any place.