if i'm wearing the right clothes, i'm in "it". the right moment. in the classroom this afternoon, i was decked out in classic belgian oral exam-wear: collared blouse, dark trousers, accent scarf, black overcoat, boots. as it has in the past, it helped boost my confidence and mask my insecurity. and i was delighted to discover that 6 degrees can be a very pleasant experience. i didn't have to be bundled in my normal student clothes of sports jackets, jeans, and rubber shoes. and i actually tried to tie my scarf in a feminine way; not in the usual bunched-around-the-neck-to-ward-off-the-cold way.
one year of looking at other people in the streets is finally rubbing off. this place has grown on me. i can feel it seeping into my marrow and settling comfortably on a settee. it's not hard to peer under the frosty facades of belgium. i was engaged in another one of those stare-down contests with the central library clock, which stood haughtily against a shockingly clear blue sky, daring him to hang his head. i lost.
i was perfectly content to meander along the way until my steps found home. but home isn't here, it's a continent and 7 time zones away, a little voice whispered. is it, i countered. home is with your energetic, bubbly, fresh-faced students, the ones you miss like crazy, another voice piped in. no, home is a few blocks away, over a little hill and down a cobbled street and up a tiny stairwell... my thoughts petered out. not in that cosy house tucked at the foothills of antipolo that watches the floods rush by in june?, wheedled voice number one. in my mind's eye there crossed a vague remembrance of strong wet drops on my windshield, the wiper whipping back and forth in vain. then a stronger image gripped me: imelda marcos and gma in what seemed to be an embrace, today's banner photo, at malacanang. i stifled an overwhelming desire to throw up. how could i go home to that? home is waffles and yoghurt and wool and turtlenecks and maillots. stern-faced bankers barking at me in stilted english, making me look like the fool they believe i am.
i don't want to go home anymore. because i am home.
if something is worth doing, it's worth doing well, baby
4 comments:
Hi Svelte, Thanks for dropping by my site and leaving a comment
I am glad you're getting accustomed to where you are. Yes, I saw that picture of Imelda and Gloria. Made me puke, too. And to think we are almost in dire straits here, they seem to be concerned about being plastic just to keep their heads above water, politics-wise, that is.
(aka pinayhekmi)
Given time and enough nook and crannies and corners to call your own spot, any place, especially when there's a loved one there, becomes home. Glad you're getting there, dear svelte.
hi rolly, thanks for dropping by. that's the one thing that really makes me saaad. the politicking. i guess this is de rigueur anywhere in the world but to see it up front leaves a bad taste in the mouth. hay! mga bweset. may karma din yan, mga bweset.
tintin, slowly but surely. a year ago, i never thought i would fall in love with this grey spot of home called belgium. it's amazing how the heart expands! unpredictable. wonderfully so!
I know how you feel, but in my case, I was dying to leave even before I had "left"
Of course, I miss having family and friends around me (not to mention the food!) but I found our conservative ways stifling and somewhat narrow-minded. It stunted my growth and I was suffocating.
Then add to that all the atrocities committed against heart and hearth: greed, corruption, brutality, snobbery... enough to make you lose faith in our people as a whole.
Maybe someday, someone will make me want to return to my roots, but as of now, I don't really care much for the country... only the people I left behind.
:: Brooke™ ::
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