There should be a welcome mat here somewhere
In the past few decades, I’ve lived in approximately 8 cities in 6 countries on four continents.
That tally doesn’t include the hundreds of hostels, sofas and floors I called home for most of my early 20s. In the past decade alone- my more settled, grown-up 30s- I’ve lived in 3 cities in two countries and have averaged a new flat every year. Since moving to Shanghai back in February of 2009, I’ve already called three flats home. By June, that number will be bumped up to four, as our landlord is selling our flat as soon as our lease is up.
It’s a bit tiring.
If you were to look at my hypothetical apartment rental score sheet, you might think I was a fickle flake with no sense of permanence, no desire to be settled. A nomad who is still saving up for her first herd of yaks, who is still on the lookout for the perfect ger (hey, Mountain Equipment Co-op, I’m looking at you here!).
In your mind, you possibly imagine me surrounded by unopened boxes, still packed from the previous move. Hell, you probably think I have no boxes at all. Maybe a 20 liter backpack with three changes of underwear and a ballpoint pen. Scratch that- I have, at most, a hobo handkerchief satchel tied to the end of a rough stick.
Yeah, no.
I have come to realize over the course of my rather geographically unstable adulthood that, in spite of my rather ambitious travel CV, I am horribly, irreconcilably domesticated. My very core practically screams for a kitchen, a garden, a plump and furry cat and a fireplace with a cup of hot tea. I came out of the metaphorical closet on that one back in September with my other blog, which practically rolls around in the kitchen with a degree of glee matched only by a dog rolling in dead salmon by the river’s edge. If you are unfamiliar with such an occasion, trust me: dead salmon + dog + rolling around = bliss.
I currently own a wok, a smallish counter top oven, a rice cooker and a sturdy, clay-lined crock pot. I have houseplants that are still alive. I own a vacuum cleaner (a hand me down from a more stable expat friend, but still). Hope I will possess one of the best vacuum steam mop combos in 2019. I have two pairs of slippers (winter and summer editions), two full sets of bedding, and a closet full of clothes that will never be able to be compressed into a backpack.
Don’t even ask me about the number of shoes I currently own. Or, for that matter, about the heart breaking number of magnificent shoes I’ve had to abandon all over the world over the years.
My favourite hand-made Turkish shoes, lost in one move or another, circa 2005
I have also come to realize that, for whatever reason, my two biggest compulsions- impulsive, minimally-baggaged travel and emphatic domestic hermitude- effectively cancel each other out. If I indulge in one by, say, travelling around Myanmar or Cambodia or wherever for a month or two, my brain is preoccupied by conflicting impulses: Yay travel! Yay adventure! Boo instability! I miss my kitchen! Wahoo! I’m in Yangon! Waaah- I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything! Hey, wow, new places! I totally want to stay here forever! No, wait- I want to leave now!
And so on.
Ever since I stopped working at my full time job last June, I’ve found myself retreating more deeply into quiet domesticity. I don’t want to go out. I want to stay in, I want to cook, I want to bake cookies, I want to read and drink tea and be quiet. Shanghai (and by extension, all of China) is out there, all big and sprawling and noisy and overwhelming, but I don’t really want to engage with it. I don’t want to talk to people. I travel a lot for work- short stints around the country, staying in fancy hotels I wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford, taking taxis that I don’t have to pay for, spending the 36 or so hours that I’m there either in my hotel, in a taxi or locked in a small interview room with a stream of 30 or so kids filing in, one by one.
Parts of me are embarrassed by my retreat into solitude. After all, I live in China. I should be out exploring, tasting the delicacies, talking to the locals, etc, etc. Thousands of people sitting in their work cubicles back home, secretly perusing travel and lifestyle redesign websites, are collectively wrinkling their brows in scorn, dismayed that someone who has been given so many opportunities to do interesting things– adventurous things– just wants to drink tea at home, wrapped up in a warm duvet with a book.
And I suppose I do those interesting things to a certain degree- after all, my job kind of has me talking to locals all the time, for hours on end, and many of my meals and journeys are in unfamiliar territory. It’s just that when it’s your entire life (and has been for nearly two decades), sometimes a boring little routine starts to look tempting.
Back in the mid-2000s, when I had just moved to Istanbul from the wilds of Anatolia and had finally found my first unshared apartment at age 30, I used to sit at my living room table, looking out at the neighbours’ garden, making lists of what I wanted to do with my home, if and when I found somewhere more permanent. Every flat (or room or bed) that I’d had until then had been extremely temporary, with flatmates, room mates, other people’s furniture, other people’s books and art, other people’s leases, other people’s rules. I wanted a place I could stay as long as I wanted, where I could choose the furniture I loved and paint the walls how I pleased. I contemplated how I would fill my spice rack. I carefully filled my hypothetical bookshelf.
I used to sit at my window and make lists of what I would have in my home, if I had one for more than a year.
In spite of my deep seated craving for permanence, I left every flat I’d rented after a year, or sometimes less. I went through 4 flats in four years in Istanbul. Each was lovely (and flawed) in their own way but each needed to be left, for one reason or another: restlessness, a need for a change of scenery, a new job, poor impulse control, frustration. Cracked walls, dreadful plumbing, bitchy neighbours, freezing and unheatable winters, pervy landlords, impossible rent increases. Everything had to change with great regularity. Accommodation Shepparton offers a superior level of accommodation, service and quality.
I still craved a core of stability but at the same time I continued to dismantle the scaffolding. Sometimes I’m quite certain I am my own worst enemy.
Anyway.
We have to be out in the next month or two so I will be flat hunting again. I have decided that after I find the right flat, I am going to contact a reliable services like this to help with the changes. I woke up this morning having temporarily forgotten through my sleep foggy brain that everything would be in a state of upheaval soon enough. It was a bit like waking up after a terrible break up or after a brutal fight with a good friend that changes everything, when it suddenly dawns on you that everything is permanently altered in a small but crucial way. That chunks of your foundation have been chipped away at- again.
It’s just a flat and there are thousands more out there. I’m not afraid of change. I’ve done it a thousand times before and am constantly adapting every day anyway. I had just hoped that some things would remain constant for just a while longer, until I was actually ready to let them go.
Maybe the next flat won’t have cracked walls or draughty windows (so no need to find cheap shutters to purchase) or a shower that takes 10 minutes to get hot water. I’m crossing my fingers.
One of my Shanghai neighbours, up the road.
28 Responses
Bah. I’ll have to start apartment-hunting again in June. That’s 12 times in the past 8 years. Though I’m still at a stage where I enjoy moving to a new location, I’m not a big fan of the actual process.
By the way, the fact that you’re a traveling domestic goddess? Earns you automatic sexy points. Still envious of your mad cooking skills!
Michi recently posted..Riding a Bike With No Hands.
I know I’ll be fine once we have moved– if we can find a decent place. Shanghai’s a bit tricky that way. Nice flats come at a price that we generally can’t afford.
Crossing fingers that luck is on our side!
And thank you for the title of Traveling Domestic Goddess. I may need to put that on my next business card!
This really resonates with me. Just moved into a new place in Beijing (someone else’s furniture, someone else’s lease, someone else’s rules) and went to IKEA to get some basics. I almost collapsed of pure WANT. It was hard to convince myself not to buy that great and cheap spice rack because, well, I’m only here for a year, but most importantly, I don’t own any spices!
I’m such a sucker for a spice rack too! Even when I barely had a kitchen, I craved one. I still don’t have one… but I do have a makeshift drawer for now. When we move again, I’ll likely be off to IKEA too, for the tiny details that make rental places really a home.
I hear you MA!! As one very similar who has finally given in to the urge, (still renting but with garden at least for the first time EVER since I was a child!) I have to stay it is quite good. But now I am the one looking longingly at travel programmes (curse you addictive travel channel!). Enjoy it while you can I say 🙂 … and when you don’t enjoy it anymore, go home 🙂 Victoria’s lovely.
Victoria is certainly lovely, but I know from experience (my last attempt at going/staying home was 2000-2002 after coming back from 3 years in UK/South Africa) that if I go back and settle down I’ll be going nuts within months. I spent most of my two years researching how to leave, even though I was secretly enjoying the rare hint of stability I was experiencing. I have no idea how to balance my need to leave with my need to leave.
PS Am slightly envious of your garden!
As usual, I am convinced we are twinsies. I battle the same split personality of alternately wanting to be a hermit with lots of pillows and houseplants and kitty cats and wanting to be a lady hobo living out of a van. I haven’t bought much since moving to China, but I’m already sad thinking about leaving my few possessions behind when I go away — the pretty green mug with the Korean writing on it, the fruit bowl I splurged and spent an entire 30 RMB on, my couch… oh, my couch! But, at the same time, I’m excited about the possibility of moving on and finding new stuff… and, perhaps, a new couch. (I can dream, can’t I?)
P.S. LOVE those shoes. I’m now convinced I need to move to Turkey and buy lots of custom-made shoes.
Sally recently posted..Weeklyish Challengey Thingie: Five Challenges, One Weekend (Or “It’s Possible I’m a Superhero Now”)
I had an amazing cobbler in Istanbul, in Kadikoy on the Asian side. He also made me custom-built knee high real-leather Doc Martens for something like 100 lira (about, oh, $50-60?). Those were left behind when I left Turkey as they were too massive to carry with only a 20kg x 2 luggage limit and 6 years worth of lovely stuff to take with me. Agonizing- like Sophie’s Choice but with shoes, books and gorgeous tailored coats.
I am really battling the twin desires to settle down, grow veggies and be thoroughly domesticated and to run off to, say, Mongolia to track down a ger-tailor so I can start herding yaks in style.
settle down and grow veggies or run off to Mongolia to herd yaks. LOL.
I’m about to commit suicide over this question.
Meanwhile I’m sitting in a tiny condo in Florida with 2 cats, a dog, and 2 adult children.
Lordy.
Lovely. We are pretty much in the same place, but I bet I have much more “stuff” than you. And three dogs and 3 cats. Sometimes I think how much easier our lives would be if we did that selling everything thing. But I like having a home, a real and true home, and as much as I am so ready to leave after being back in Penang for a month I am also so grateful to have a place waiting when I return, even when I’m not ready to return.
Thank you. I used to have more stuff, including a cat (who now calls my parents’ house in Canada home, at least until I’m a bit more geographically stable) and lovely 2nd hand furniture slowly acquired in various Cukurcuma antik shops in Beyoglu, that broke my heart when I had to leave it behind. We don’t have furniture of our own here because I can’t bear to continue the cycle of growing attached to things only to leave them in a year or two. I have a feeling that a lot of the people who sold everything to live out of a backpack didn’t spend most of their adult life that way. It’s a nice thought when you’re stuck in a cubicle, aching to travel, feeling bored with stable life back home, but I’m not sure it’s a sustainable lifestyle for an entire adulthood.
Ah, someday we will meet and have several cocktails while we talk about all this. You know, I left Thailand last August because I wanted to settle down…I haven’t done that yet, and likely won’t until my husband’s (!) green card comes through. I haven’t had my own apartment for over a year now and I’ve been living from what I had in just about two suitcases for over a year and a half. And…I’m not sure how I feel about it all. Sometimes I’ve desperate for a house, a car, a job (and insurance!!!!), all of my baking goods…and sometimes I just want to keep living the way I’m living. Sigh. Life.
Good luck on your apartment search!
Megan recently posted..WTF? (What THE?! Fridays): American Tuesday Edition
I still can’t believe you’re married. It sounds so grown up! And yeah, I veer wildly between craving complete stability and embarking on wild flights of fancy. I want both. Is it possible to have both?
Insurance? What is this ‘insurance’ you speak of? Never heard of it 😉
so interesting
Yingying Xue recently posted..Southerly days
Thank you 🙂
I understand. Whilst the idea of an actual home is scary, it grows really tiresome moving from place to place. Since 2007 I’ve lived on 3 continents in 5 countries, in any number of houses… I like to travel light and not own too many things, but after a while you get tired of tossing things away and settling into new places.
David S. Wills recently posted..Weekend in Nanjing
Aye. Same. I think that by living minimally for so many years, I actually ended up buying the same things over and over again, everywhere I lived– which kinda defeats the purpose of living simply. And really, I’ve grown fond of growing roots, at least until I’m ready to not be rooted. I think it goes in waves.
I have a two year contract on my new place in Buenos Aires and I still can’t wrap my head around that. Since I moved in I’ve looked at my little balcony, imagining lettuce and a little herb garden and maybe even something growing up the trellis so that the guys in the fruit and veg store across the road can’t see directly into my tiny studio.
I bought furniture because I had to, but that optional garden was a huge step. Dad was here last week and basically forced me into it. I don’t want to move again – oh god no, not for a loooong time – but my mind automatically assesses everything for resale value or movability. It feels weird to nest… but I’m really liking it. Really. I may have gently stroked and sung to the new buds of rocket in my little herb garden… or… um… not. Why are you looking at me that way?
Camden Luxford recently posted..Learning Chinese: Notes on language utility
Two years? Oh, bliss! We’ve been bouncing around on one year contracts forever because landlords won’t commit. It’s exhausting spending 4 out of the 12 months allotted, worrying about the next move and trying to emotionally extricate yourself from your flat. Also, it’s hard to commit to decorating or growing a tiny garden or really making it your own when you know you’ll not be there long…
I once bought furniture… then sold it barely a year later. Never did it again. I’d love to have my own though. Am tired of other people’s tastes.
Man, I so feel you on this one. In my 20’s it didn’t seem like a big deal to pack up my stuff and haul it to a new apartment/city/country, but now that I’m in my 30’s all I want is a little place of my own that I can make beautiful and cozy and just for me. But then, I also really want to keep traveling and seeing the world. I keep hoping that one day I’ll end up in a city that just screams at me “This is it! You’ve found your place!” And I’ll stay forever.
Good luck with the move though! I hope you get your home one day. 🙂
P.S. The missing shoes/clothes thing is a killer, right? I was just sitting here wondering if it would be worth it to ship some of my shoes home before I move on to my next place. I’ll probably end up leaving them though (I always do).
Yup yup yup. Exactly what you said. I can definitely say that Shanghai isn’t the city of my dreams, by any means. It’s not bad, it’s easy, it’s comfortable but it’s like an arranged marriage where’s there’s no real spark, just familiarity. I crave a cozy home to settle into but the restlessness is making it difficult.
And the shoes, oh don’t get me started on the shoes! Handmade knee-high faux Docs from my cobbler in Turkey, beautiful embroidered soft leather ballet flats from bulgaria, powder blue chunky 3″ platform Mary-Janes, those other purple Mary-Janes in the photo with the little yellow leather flower sewn on… heartbreak!!!!
I have a closet full of shoes here (mainly because I can’t fit the local clothes so my shopping habits tend to veer toward collecting the only thing that does fit- shoes) and there are several I’d be heartbroken to abandon. Hmph.
I think you have a good conversation here. Anyway I like this post!
Nicole recently posted..murano glass
Yep, tension between domesticity and motion. Impossible to reconcile.
We’ve been working for years to have two home bases, one in Asia and one in the west. The western one’s sorted, for now — a small place in Sicily where we’ll spend a month or two every year, filling our annual bread and cheese quota — but I’m not committed to any particular place in China long-term. Sure, we’ll be in Beijing for three years or more. Currently living in a university hotel, and I’m scheming to rent a live/work art studio later this year in Caochangdi — a district where all the housing’s technically illegal and we could get booted at any time.
And with the home in Sicily, yes it’s great to have a few Indonesian and Chinese pieces of furniture that I’ve loved, and art from the past, and clothes I’ve forgotten. Familiar faces help, too. But then the wanderer says: “sell the place in a few years! Move closer to the sea and those Greek ruins in Agrigento! You need to get out of this small town!”
Sheesh. A girl can’t win.
Ebriel recently posted..Studio Sicilia’s Finished!
Until I started this blog and all you guys started coming out of the woodwork, I thought I was the only person who had these mixed feelings. I never related to the sell-everything/live-out-of-your-backpack-forever message, mainly because I’d done that my entire adult life already and it held no mystique. Nor did I crave the picket fence and long term job and total geographic stability. I’ve never imagined myself getting married or settling down. Now that I’m heading toward 40, however, I wonder if my preferences are leading me down a path that will be ultimately a lot more challenging than anticipated.
Am curious about your potential studio…
Your comment – as usual – really resonates with me. What is ‘home’ is a question that’s I’ve never answered well. I put the first payment on the studio 3 years ago, after 6 months of barraging the estate agency with questions, and 2 years of obsessive online research on cheap houses (under US$20K) in Europe. The US$ had just shot up short-term and I decided to throw my savings into a house and a town I’d never seen before. A mortgage isn’t an option for us so it had to be somewhere inexpensive and small, where we wanted to speak the language.
We’d just moved from Hong Kong to Australia and quickly found that Oz was pleasant but not a long-term option for us. So I felt doubly uprooted, and lost. And somehow, having this little place to fixate on, to buy little things for (like a Burmese repro. tattoo gun as a toilet roll holder) gave me a focus for those desires that I think are only natural, and that increase as time passes. As we travel more, often we find that where we are now isn’t all that different from where we started out.
And if you’d ever like to house-swap Shanghai for Sicily, just let me know!
Ebriel recently posted..Visions of Penang
A house swap with Sicily? Don’t tempt me… maybe next year! This year, we’re heading to Morocco!
Love this post! And I just love your blog so much. Like yourself (and Sally above) I battle the same indecisiveness and need to have it all. We’ve been on the road 6 years now, and have a storage unit in Dubai and one in Sydney. I need to go sort the one in Sydney that we’ve not looked at since we left for the UAE in 1998. We’re in Australia at the moment visiting family and working on stories and I’ll see a beautiful old apartment in an art deco building or a grand old Victorian terrace house, like the homes we used to have, and for half an hour I’ll be tempted to get the stuff out of storage and settle down again. An hour later, we’re discussing whether to settle back in Dubai, or go to Cambodia, or do that trip to Bhutan or Burma, or even move to Shanghai! Don’t worry, we all hear you. But what do we do about it? I have no idea. Will we be eternal drifters? Maybe…
I’m always looking at beautiful old flats and wondering what it would be like to live in them for as long as I wanted, to fill them with carefully chosen pretty things, to be stable enough to manage a menagerie of cats and dogs…And then I go book flights to Morocco, because that’s how we roll, yo.