Home is...

My biography will commence something along the lines of: She was born in Germany, moved to Switzerland at the age of ten, aquired two nationalities and lost any sense of the notion "home".

Hallmark greetingscards often claim "Home is where the heart is"... yet what if your heart cant pinpoint "Home" anymore?

Having grown up in the environment of the International School of Geneva, i lost the meaning of nationality. Sure, my friends came from Sweden, Norway, the USA or Tanzania but it never mattered where one was from. Friendships formed between people of any nationality and religion. Boundaries, as they exist in the minds of may, ceased to exist.

Following graduatio, i moved to the german part of Switzerland and began my carreer as a law student. And everything changed. I speak four languages fluently- yet Swiss-german is not one of them. During my time at school, we all spoke english or french, thus creating a common ground. One could never tell where you were from when you opened your mouth. All this has changed. Now, i simply need to say "Good Morning" and i am confronted with "oh, you're forgein..." Most of the time, its not meant in any offensive way, yet there are times i can tell that there is more than meets the eye.

I have a swiss passport, i can cook fondue and i know how the country works, who runs it and when the national holidays are- yet i will never be swiss enough. There will always be something about me that is "too German". At the same time, when i go back to Germany, i feel lost. I can no longer relate to half the things people are saying- ive been gone for too long. And this is where the story beginns:

Is this feeling of homelessness all a part of growing up in a world ruled by Erasmus and cultural exchange? Hardly. Spending a semester or a year abraod cannot in any shape or form be compared to what it is like growing up in the world of the "3rd culture children". The term "3rd culture children" refers to young people who have grown up in the international environment, have travelled the world, own several passports and have more frequent flyer miles than most people have on their bank accounts. Having to move every four years or having your friends change as regularly as some governments makes for a rocky childhood- no matter how privileged you are.

Having a place to call home gives you a sense of security, of knowing where to go when the going gets rough. However, not everyone has such a place. Just think of all those who have been persecuted and arrested. Over the past few years, ive been desperately trying to create a home by force. Yet at the end of the day i have come to realize that for me, home is not one specific place, but a feeling. Its the feeling of stepping off the airplane in New York where the air is vibrant, its roaming the streets of cities such as Berlin, where creativity is unlimited and freedom is more palpable than anywhere else.

Home is where freedom lies.