I accept that my life has no permanence. It’s hardly ever had any signs of permanence ever. I’ve always been moving around. And if it isn’t the place I’m living in that I’m moving from, it’s the school I’m moving from, one after another. Insecurity, in terms of living conditions, pervaded my life. Still does to this day actually.
I’m not complaining, per se. But I do wish it wasn’t so hard sometimes.
I like to travel. Or rather, I like the notion of traveling to far-off places, with little else but the barest of necessities in a backpack, meeting new people, exploring and adventuring. It all gives this fantastic image of excitement from never knowing what might be coming next.
But while I like to travel, I’d also like to call a place a home. And to me, that place is Macau. I know some people will find this an odd choice of a place to want to call home, considering Macau costs quite a lot to live in and it is the gambling hub of Asia, fast becoming the new Las Vegas. In other words, it’s quite a sin city.
Sure, the economy has slumped as well, but I love the people here. Here, the friends I have and have known well are like family away from family. I love them and hence I love Macau.
It is the people that makes a place home after all, and that’s what my friends are here to me — the family I formed that isn’t blood related.
Cebu, to me, really isn’t a home. Yes, my family is there, and they are my true home, but I don’t exactly feel like I truly belong there. The people are nice and warm, and I also do love them, but there’s something about Macau that Cebu just can’t seem to match up with.
I think I have an addiction towards Macau and all that it entails. Or maybe, it’s because this is where I was made into the person I was, with most of my memories I hold dear having been made here. Plus, there are cultural things here that I’m just more used to than the cultural things in Cebu, whatever they may be.
I know and have heard my highschool classmates saying they want to settle back here in Macau once they finish their studies. Or rather, one of them said it and another sort of implied it as well. And to be honest, I’m not far off from what they want either.
I just want to come back to Macau, and with three days left here, I can’t help but feel melancholic about leaving again.
And to think that I felt choked living here back when we were still truly living here. Now, that’s how I feel about Cebu.
Maybe I’m just not meant to stay in one place. I’ve never known permanence, after all, seeing as my dad always gave off the impression as I was growing up that we could get kicked out of Hong Kong or Macau any time if he isn’t wanted at his job and loses it, despite knowing now that he actually is quite brilliant at his work. In a sense, I’ve inherited his low sense of self worth, often thinking I’m not good enough and that I’m easily replaceable. Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t ever want to commit to anything, for fear that all my effort into something will be all for naught and I just end up getting hurt.
I feel like a local, but I’m also an alien. Despite that, I’d rather be a local alien than a natural born in a country I should consider my home because it is technically my homeland by nationality (besides, it’s system is just so broken and out of whack, I can’t see any hope in it’s betterment). I am more comfortable being seen as an alien (and being ostracised as such at times), but also belonging at the same time in a place that’s filled with a mixture of international humanity the world can possibly offer in one tiny and densely populated place.
I guess that’s just the nomad in me. Born and bred a nomad, therefore it’ll always be hard for me to believe I belong anywhere at all. And to satiate the feeling of wanting to belong, I’d rather be in a place that’s always going to feel transient for me, but also a home.
Heck, I’m messed up. I don’t even know if any of that makes much sense at all. The only thing I do know is this.
My home is this little enclave at the tip of the Pearl River Delta dubbed the Las Vegas of Asia, one of the world’s sin cities, where corruption and crime, more or less, helped create the booming city it now is today. It may be a glittering mass of lights and wonder on the surface, but the inner workings below its glimmering façade are intricate and complex to the point I just can’t let go and leave for good. I’ll always want to come back.
I’m always moving and I can’t seem to ever stay put in one place, hence it seems to me like I’m just meant for a nomadic life. Maybe.
I love cities, where both the underbellies of society and the bourgeois and upper class live together in discordant harmony.
I’m a Nomad City Girl. Or maybe I’m just a world citizen.
World Citizen Nomad City Girl. That too big a mouthful?