Home

Home is more than a place in which one lives, home becomes an instinct. Just as birds are instinctively homing to their summer nesting grounds, so do we eventually feel drawn to the one place that becomes our home. We associate our homes with comfort, warmth, happiness, familiarity and predictability, each creating our own order and way of life.

I have had three very distinct, very precious homes.  And a sweet story from a friend on Facebook has made me want to share a little about these homes.

The first was the rental on Annie St in Brisbane city, where my parents, brother and I lived when we'd first arrived from Kazakhstan to Australia. I was here until I was 11 years old. This home was surrounded by a community and network of almost all the kids I was at school and church with. Most of us were foreigners with complicated names and parents that were studying and working hard, which enabled us to have practically unsupervised afternoons on week days and get into all sorts of mischief as a result. Our different backgrounds taught us from an early age to embrace cultural and language differences and we each were able to grow confident in ourselves as a result. Our teachers encouraged very healthy unison through multicultural fusion and days were we would each bring a plate of our traditional food, or teach the classroom several words in our native languages.

To this day I maintain bonds of friendship with the kids and teachers from that school and in that suburb, whether forged through mutual punishments for convicted mischief, or through the difficulty in international acclimation and the tenacity it took to simultaneously learn English and keep up with the educational curriculum. I will always recall this home and these years of my life as some of the very happiest and best.

Age 11 brought much heart ache and misery, when the house my parents built was completed and I was forced to move across town to the South Brisbane suburb of Kuraby. A new suburb, new school, new teachers and kids; most of whom were Australian with the same culture, simple names and trouble saying mine. I felt very ostracized and instinctively gravitated toward the only other foreign girl there. We are still great friends, but she would be the last true friend I made during my adolescence in the south of Brisbane, for the following year brought high school and after that college, both adding more loneliness and misery.

I lived in this house until I was 19 and I've often wished I could call it a home, yet I can't. Family is one thing, but I was always happier when we were at the beach for holidays or away on weekends. I struggled keeping friends during these 8 years and begun to brood about a lot. It was excellent for my creative writing, since I wrote some of my best work up the stairs in that little back bedroom, but I was becoming a social recluse and developing some kind of depression as a result. All of this would, over the years, increase my negative associations with this house further.

My second home was in Rockhampton, QLD; where I moved at the age of 20 to pursue my college major and attempt independence. Rocky (as it's known in Aus) saved me! Here I met my sister and best friend for life, as well a multitude of other great friends and a family that quickly embraced me as their own; one that I could never now function without. I guess my attempt at independence failed, since I went from one family to another, but there is definitely something to be said for being loved unconditionally by a family that's not related to you: it grows your confidence immensely (while studying and slaving away in the hospitality industry helped too!).

I had believed that I would grow old in Rocky, preferably close to my bestie and the beach, yet at the age of 23, I was forced to give up my comfort zone, my bubble and home in Rockhampton due a force not to be reckoned with. It was one that had defeated me, body and soul: love. As I've previously mentioned, I'd fallen in love with a travelling American boy who was stationed temporarily on the other side of Australia. Despite fighting tooth and nail to deny the reality of my feelings and our future - I was overcome.

We lived together on the beautiful Scarborough Beach in Western Australia for six months, before an utter miracle took us back across the country to my beloved Rocky, where we were married less than two months later. It wasn't long hereafter (and by no great surprise) that we were uprooted again. In September 2010 (as most of my readers know), I made my second international migration, to the USA; and here, I have found my third home.

Although we've only just moved into a new apartment in Midtown Atlanta, and we're not fully settled in yet, I've now moved around so much that I'm not as attached to dwellings as I am to people. I've learnt that it's never the house that becomes a home - but rather the people in or around it. Having just celebrated our second wedding anniversary, I've realized that my love has only grown for this ungrounded, travelling boy and my third and final home is by his side.  As my friend said today in his touching story:

Home is where the heart is.

Perspective

Last week on my way out of the shopping centre where I work, I held a door open for a lady who turned out to be Australian. Once again reiterating the fact that we live in a tiny world, for she was practically my next door neighbour in Brisbane; when I’d lived in Kuraby, she lived in Salisbury.

We blabbed like old friends the entire walk to the train station and on the train through the three stops I make daily. As this was her very first week in Atlanta, she made me laugh as she pointed out the things she was noticing for the first time about America and Americans: things I had also experienced upon arrival but had long since forgotten about; things that don’t stand out at all anymore.

She pointed out (as I once had) that the sheer variety in retail over here is mind blowing. There is MORE of everything from shower curtains and tea strainers to furniture, makeup and clothing.

Another thing a fresh Aussie notices is the sky! Even in the summer months, the sky in America is a lighter blue –a faded blue, compared to the vibrant one in the sky above OZ.

The other major difference that is sure to disorientate is that –aside from driving on the opposite side of the road and having the steering wheel on the opposite side of the car – people even walk in the opposite direction! And I had never noticed back home that the direction in which our escalators ran was the same as the direction of the road system until I came to the US and noticed it in reverse.

And one of the funniest and most honest things she said was: “it feels so good to be able to swear! Americans are so polite all the time, it seems inappropriate to – but Australians love to swear, it’s who we are! We’re suppressing who we really are when we aren’t swearing… it’s liberating when we get to talk freely!”

While it was nice to get a fresh perspective, it unsettled me to notice the changes within myself that I had subconsciously made! How could I be losing my Australian accent after a meager year in the States, when I was always the first to discriminate about those Australian super-stars who move to the States and “sell out” their Australian-ness after a mere decade!

Will says now that I’m used to life over here, when we go home for our visit in November; it’ll be home that feels strange and different. It will be interesting to see what strikes me as “odd” about my home! I never thought that was possible, but then, I never thought I’d stop ripping this bloody paper currency either!

... Now if I could just learn to spell in "English” the American way…

My dream apartment has come true!

On the 30th October 2010 Will, Baxter and I moved into the Mayfair Tower... and on the 7th of November, I wrote this post in my journal, which I wanted to share on my blog:

My head is spinning from happiness!  Last week, Will and I left his mother's house in Peachtree City and moved into my dream apartment in Midtown Atlanta.  The 2 bed/ 2 bathroom apartment (floor plan) is on the 23rd story of the Mayfair Tower high-rise and to me, it's the most beautiful building in Midtown.  The views from our windows are amazing, with one side facing Piedmont Park and the other facing Buckhead. I can't believe how lucky we are and I just know living on 14th St is going to be awesome!

Entrance

The Two Mayfair Towers

View of Mayfair/ Midtown from across the pond @ Piedmont Park

Moving to Mayfair

We've done it!  We've found an apartment!  After looking at almost every building in Midtown, we have found the perfect one!  Ironically, it was the one building we didn't immediately look at because we thought it would be too expensive, but it was the one I secretly REALLY wanted!  It was tough for Will and I to agree on a place until now - our requirements were so different!  

He wanted a building that was safe and had each of the following: a concierge, key access to all entrances, security cameras, apartment complete with Internet, dishwasher, washer, dryer, pool, gym and for it to be located on the highest possible level of a high rise with a balcony.  

Things that were important to me were: that the building was attractive from the outside, that the overall street that the building was located on was attractive, that the interior was clean, modern (if possible) and of course attractive, that the bathroom and kitchen especially be in good condition with no grime, rust or mould anywhere, that we have a wardrobe big enough for both of our clothes + my shoes, bags, scarves, hats and belts; and finally, that we have a bathtub.  

Well the Mayfair Tower ticks all of our boxes (except no balcony - but it would have been too dangerous with such a small dog anyway... and no pool - but let's face it, we're too germ-a-phobe to get into a shared pool anyway!)  To me, it's in the best building in Atlanta and the apartment has the best floor plan and most awesome view! We will be on the 23rd level with views on one side of the apartment facing Piedmont Park and on the other side facing Buckhead. 

Here are some pics... move in date on the 30th! 

Main entrance

The two towers
(the one we're moving to is the tall one on the left -
the other is called the Mayfair Renaissance) 

View of the towers from across the pond at Piedmont Park,
where I shall walk Baxter every day :)