I have travelled, if not extensively, at least an appreciable amount around Europe now, enough to have a sense of cultural preferences, things I like about traveling generally, things I dislike about traveling, and where I could or should plan out my list of next places to visit for the first time. I’ve reached a point of getting to know the countries of Western Europe in particular to such an extent that I’ve seen three different types of places emerge: the places I love and could easily see myself living in, where I feel in tune with the culture and (probably) speak the language; the places I like to visit, but don’t appreciate on a profound enough level to consider moving there under normal circumstances; and everywhere else, from indifference to active hostility. What is it about the places in the first group that makes them different?
My first reaction is to say that it’s a gut instinct, that you just experience it, a certain feeling whether upon arrival or after a short time spent in a place. You connect with the particular energy of a city when you enter it and just know that it’s right for you. That, however, is not too satisfying to the inquisitive person asking why? So I’ll elaborate on it with a little bit about each of the three places I’ve come to accept as such and why.
Lisbon is home. It is the city I actually call home, where I have my legal residence, where all most of my possessions reside, and where I study and (look for) work. It got to be that way by accident, but I made a conscious decision to come back time after time, because it has a very familiar mixture of provincialism and cosmopolitanism that I connected with quickly coming from Denver, with the advantage of an extremely mild southern European climate that doesn’t know or understand snow. Lisbon has many layers despite its small size; it is strikingly beautiful at a glance but a further look into the nitty-gritty of it reveals plenty of ugly faults. It’s a city where walking the streets gives a strong sense of opportunity, a sort of “what if?” that I resonate with, seeming to always spend my time wondering more about the future than living in the present.
I have often described Paris as akin to visiting relatives: it’s a home you can always go back to, but too much time in it at once gets frustrating. Once you’ve taken your time to tourist your way about the city, it opens up different faces of itself to you in neighborhoods you wouldn’t have had a reason to visit if you wanted to see any of the innumerable landmarks, museums, or other points of interest to visitors. It’s less expensive than the touristic side of the city can make it out to be, and has just as much of a diversity of people and lifestyles as a city of so many millions ought to. I learned French from an early age and get on quite naturally well with French culture; I’ve never particularly experienced the supposed snootiness or arrogance of Parisians the way they’re famed to be. Quite the contrary, I have made many close friends who constitute a social base that lets me feel at ease and at home in the city of lights.
Barcelona combines the things I like most about Paris and Lisbon in one city while being a microcosm of political issues that I study academically. I find the city easy to access and not lacking any of the creature comforts that I am accustomed to from the other side of the Atlantic, though linguistically it is still more inaccessible than Paris or Lisbon. As a linguist of sorts, the challenge of diving into a new linguistic surrounding is a positive point, as life feels more dynamic when everything is a discovery in how to go about the routines of life differently. Barcelona is less overwhelming than Paris and larger enough than Lisbon not to feel like an overgrown village, with modern and well-functioning public transport alongside a pedestrian-friendly footprint. Had it not been for Lisbon, Barcelona would probably have become my “other” destination outside of Paris.
Despite being well-known and large cities with considerable touristic volume (less so in the case of Lisbon), all of these cities have something that works for my rhythm of being. They’re different from the places I simply like but wouldn’t live in because in each there’s a personal element—be it the cultural similarities of Lisbon and my hometown or the southern European cosmopolitanism of Barcelona—that distinguishes them from the crowd. I’m inclined toward southern Europe perhaps because my linguistic knowledge propels me there, but also because over the long of time I seem to have adapted plenty of its mannerisms considered typical. Quite the opposite is true of many people I know, yet when comparing notes on why the conclusions are much the same: the places you could call home might be different from where you came, but they resemble it (or are diametrically opposed to it; the principle of side of the same coin applies) enough that their choice only seems natural.
Where would you call home if not for where you’re at now, why?
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