April 8, 2008

• Expat Home

  During all my years as a happy expat, I’ve never ever had a “proper home” in the sense of a place with only my own things. Not until now, that is.

  I’m not sure what happened, but last year I just got so sick and tired of having my things in storage that I decided to ship it all  here – all 96 boxes. And it took quite a while to upack everything, but now I have what I’ve never had as a wanderer around the globe: my own proper home.

  Just having access to all my books, for one thing. That’s absolutely fabulous. I just can’t get over it.

  

  Or being able to arrange my study exactly the way I want it, with my own furniture.

  

  I don’t know if I’ve always had this idea that if you like travelling and living the expat life, you automatically exclude the option of having your own place. Like it’s a choice of either, or. But sitting down with my calculator last summer, I worked out that the cost of shipping all my stuff from London to Oman was equal to 19 months of storage, which means you’re in the black if you stay two years in one place.

  

  So, now I’ve got my beloved Ivar shelves and tiled mirrors.

  

  My copper pot from Lapland, my antique books, all my VCRs, tapes, CDs and DVDs in one place – I mean, that has been like almost decades since that happened last. And being able to connect my TV to my super-duper speakers. I mean, I knew that this bit here could be connected to this bit there, but with most of my stuff perpetually in storage, it was just a theoretical idea. Until now.

  

  And being surrounded with stuff I’ve chosen myself. I know that’s the norm for most people, but for an avid globetrotter like me, this is a new experience, I tell you.

  

  It’s almost like I don’t know if I want to go to Europe for a visit this summer. I’m happy here. 

  And, yes, I know! My home looks like an IKEA show room – but that’s the way I like it.

  • 10:20 am
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