I’ve been waiting a long time to write this post. As I sit before my Mac, a torrent of emotions go through my mind. Where do I begin?
I’ve come home, kawan kawan. It’s raining outside as I write and I can smell that old familiar scent of the rain mixed with the heat emanating from the concrete floors below. That smell evokes so many pent up memories in me. When I was little, I looked forward to the respite that rain would bring. It’s always hot in Singapore. Just before a storm, there would a breeze that spreads through the island I call home. In that breeze, sweet remembrances are evoked.
I sit with my right side to the glass verandah door, listening to rain as it falls
on the palm trees that grow around the courtyard below. There is a pervading calm around and for the first time in many months, I feel a sense of tranquility spreading inside me.
Home evokes many emotions for different people at different stages in their lives. Home gives the feeling of security, of familiarity, of warmth and friendship. “Hearth and Home” are two potent associations in the English language and acts as a metaphor for the heart where one’s psychological home resides. “Home is where the heart is”, completes that metaphor in a full sentence. Home is a place of refuge, of acceptance, a “sanctuary of belonging” as one commentator has put it.
You will remember that whilst living in Paris, I embarked on a journey to hunt down the veritable tastes of Asia that would satiate my then impending loss of the sense of home.
This lobster noodle dish was devoured in Singapore, 2016. The Italian was looking for a resto where we can savour that old familiar taste of Mandarin-Kitchen-lobster-noodles. He did some screen swiping and keyboard tapping and voila!
Even he is starting to feel a little homesick for London City which was home for 15 years before we moved to Paris.
You may not know this but since starting my food blog in Paris, I’ve relocated once more, this time repatriating to Singapore. I said I’ve come home, kawan kawan at the start of this post. But have I?
It’s been four and half years since returning home. I am now in the midst of writing a memoir and I’m thinking of calling this memoir – My Home not my Country.
How did I come from being the Homecoming Queen to now feeling a sense of displacement in my own “country?” I guess you’ll have to stay tuned for more.