For the past 8 years I was “homeless”. I am not blaming it on anyone but myself. I have itchy feet and once out of high school, I packed my bags and started my life episode of packing boxes, moving in, getting to know the place and its people, falling in love, wanting more, packing my boxes, moving out and moving on. It got to the point that my friend K. pointed out that my email was my only constant address. Of course, I always had my parents’ house back in Munich to go back to, but in between grad school, traineeships abroad, exchange programs and travels I lost the sense of home. I moved to Manila almost 2 years ago and until now I am “waiting” for my feet to itch, but... Nothing. Three weeks ago, I moved into my new condominium in The Fort (yes, I still move around but at least within the same city). I feel a bit derooted; I miss my tiny studio in Pasig. After all I spent almost two years living in it. But this is different. Now I have a full functioning kitchen, a bathroom that can comfortably have D. and me brush our teeth together, a real dining table to host dinners, a balcony that has a view, a couch to slouch on with a good book, plenty of storage space for clothes, bags, shoes… I have a place to call home… Not quite sure for how long. But, for now, I feel good about it. The nomad in me is retired.
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