I don’t really advertise this fact, but I’m from Texas originally. Born in a tiny shithole of a town on the Louisiana/Texas border; I was fortunate enough to leave before my 3rd birthday. Thus began a long journey (thanks, Vietnam) first to Santa Barbara, then Deutschland, eventually France, and then back to America again.
I didn’t make it back to Texas until I was in Jr. High. First to San Antonio (good god… terrible place), and finally to Austin. Austin, for me, was the antithesis of Texas living. Instead of stetsons and spurs we had hippies and nightlife that scoffed at country music. Instead of H. Ross Perot and big oil we had Ann Richards (who will forever remain a hero of mine) and well preserved, painfully beautiful Hill Country.
I finished school there and stuck around for college because, well, I didn’t really know where else to go. Quickly on the heels of that came marriage and babies and a massive struggle to identify who the hell I was and what I wanted out of life. Then a career and a divorce and, finally, an inexplicably strong feeling it was time to strike out and see what the world had to offer.
The next 8 years were a blur… moving from Austin to Boston to Phoenix to Portland to Colorado Springs. Suffice it to say moss never grew under our feet. And now we’re here. In Dresden for the time being. Although lately I’ve felt that old familiar stirring- the one that reminds me life is short and there’s still a lot of ground to cover.
But that’s not what this post is about. Nope, it’s about the time-honored greeting we expats indulge in. It goes something like this:
Dick: Hi Jane, nice to meet you. Have you been here long?
Jane: We just arrived and it’s so nice to talk to a fellow english-speaker again!
Dick: So where are you from originally?
It’s that ‘where are you from’ that gets me every time. I never know what to tell people. I mean, we moved here from Colorado Springs, but of all the places I’ve lived it has to be my least favorite. Hardly seems fair to be stuck with it for life. Boston, Phoenix and Portland were all great, but none are what I’d refer to as ‘home’.
Which leaves me with Austin. Some of my best memories are from Austin… and, sadly, even more of my worst are from there as well. I can honestly say I’m not the same girl who left the city behind in 1999. A fact I’m thankful for on a daily basis. When I walked away I left an ex-husband who was/is a complete dick and parents who were singlehandedly responsible for making me feel worthless for the first 16 years or so of my life. It was good to be gone… no, scratch that, it was life affirming to be gone and I know beyond a shadow of doubt I’ll never return.
Which begs the question… where am I from?? I got asked that at least 4 times over the weekend and gave a different answer each time. First was “We moved to Dresden from Colorado Springs”, second was “Well, I’m originally from Texas, but it’s been a looong time since I’ve been there”, the rest were variations of the two. Going forward I’ll have to come up with a unified, defined answer though… I’m getting kinda sick of the deer-caught-in-headlights look I get whenever I’m asked the question.
And maybe that’s the drawback of all the moving… some many homes in such a short time-frame… I’ve become too good at packing up and moving on. There’s never a chance to put down roots, embrace a community, make a friendship that doesn’t feel disposable. I should probably allow for the possibility I’ll never feel I belong… that I’ll always be out there in the ether somewhere… observing, but never really fitting in.
Oh well, enough with the existential angst. Maybe I should just pick a place and lie about it? I’m aloof enough to pass for a New Yorker. Plus I hear if you can make it there…
Bing! Just opened my reader and up popped your post. Glad you wrote this because it answers a couple of my (as usual) indiscreet questions to J. on the weekend.
I was sent to Colorado Springs for work four ago. It was lovely in the fall - crisp air and beautiful colours. The hotel was ranch-style, but so big I could have taken a taxi from the foyer to the room. It was right beside a basketball arena as I recall. The conference was held at a beautiful old hotel at the foot of the mountains. We were hanging around outside and a bear sauntered across the grass and meandered between a couple of neighbouring houses. When the even twas over my colleagues and I spend a fun evening at a cowboy bar downtown.
Somehow, though, I can understand why you left.
Saying “Colorado” will get South Park quoted at you — even if you are unfamiliar with al the recent quotables.
I rotate where I am from–and whilst each of the three has meaning to me, the meaning is often lost on non-Americans. Colorado makes people think of South Park; Wyoming is so obscure that you have to tell people where it is (”It’s the rectangular state just north of Colorado, most famous for Yellowstone National Park”). Indiana gets more blank stares, and again you have to tell people where it is (”It’s next to Chicago.”)
A tough question, especially for you! Do you ever just say you’re from “all over”??
My situation is much less extreme but I still have a hard time answering that question. I grew up in Iowa, but just answering the question “Iowa” doesn’t work for me. I love Iowa, but there’s a big difference (I think) between a person who lived all their time in the US in Iowa, and me. I haven’t lived in Iowa in over ten years and can’t speak for it all that much anymore. But, I’m not a Bostonian either, and Chicago just falls in the middle somewhere wondering what its place in all this is. A lot of times I answer with “we moved here from Boston but I was born in Iowa”, unless language is an issue. Then I just say “Boston”.
When I talk about the US in my blog it’s usually just Boston because that’s the area I’m familiar with as an adult, and I don’t want people to rail on me for saying “US is like this” when it’s not like that in THEIR part of the US. So I stick with “Boston is like this”. I know there are people out there who are very defensive about the US not being all the same.
My parents moved into their house the day before I was born, so I actually do come from somewhere, but I definitely felt more where I belonged after 4.5 years in Denver (yes actually in the city) than I do from NJ.
I get the Kevin Smith jokes, but I was never like all the people around me. (I do however, wait “on line” and not “in line”). We weren’t mall rats. We didn’t go to the shore in the summer. We never had big hair, or the money to fit in with the preppy kids.
I say, “I have lived a lot of places. My parents still live in NJ.”
there is something romantic and bohemian and arty about being so wandering that you have no one real place to claim… you definitely should embrace it.
oddly, for me that is the one question that i don’t have to think about… and it’s one of the few things i like about me… i love the fact that i am from chicago… can’t even explain it, but there is a definite pride and loyalty that has been ingrained… no matter how long it goes that i have lived there, or even visited… it will always be where i came from.
you almost don’t even have to ask me… whenever i meet someone, the first thing i want to do is establish that i’m not a floridian.
You are a world citizen, enjoy it. Wanderlust, know it well but now I’ve settled down. I didn’t so much change countries (only 2) but changed provinces and houses like a manic. I think I’m settled now but every once in a while I get the urge to move again…ciao
Choose your favorite place… and THAT’S now where you’re from!
Carol
You commented when I posted the same thing on my blog; I simply have no place that is considered “home”, as my dad was already in the Army when I was born.
I haven’t found an acceptable answer for myself. With other former military people, the answer “I was an Army brat” suffices, but most people asking don’t fit into that category.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Not only because I’ve moved so much in the past decade, but because now my child will be forever trying to explain his origins to people. In fact, right now he’s confused as to what “home” is…imagine what a 3-year old who has lived in 3 different countries answers when someone asks “where are you from little boy?”
Dont lie about it (like the rest of the world), maybe its just that the whole world is your home. Its a wonderful thing. And by the way, you can skip that question that I sent you
I didnt know “where are you from” would be such a thought provoking question…:)
I was just talking about this the other day with a friend. The longest I’ve ever lived in any single place was Hungary, 6 years, ‘97–’03. Of course, I’m not Hungarian, and it being so recent, I’m not actually “from” there. But I feel much more connected there than I do to many of the stateside places I’ve lived. It was truly home. I also spent 6 years in Germany, although in 3 different cities, and also felt very at home there. I’ve now been in Seattle 4 years (!!!) and I don’t really feel at all connected or at “home” here.
I usually tell people I’ve moved my whole life and am from “all over”, but I claim Hillsboro Ohio as my “home town”, although I only lived there 4 years. (Other than the 4 locations I’ve listed, I often moved every year or couple of years) It was high school, though, so an important 4 years, and one where I grew up and started on the road to being an independent person rather than someone’s daughter. Maybe that’s why it feels more like my “home town” than where I was born. (I note, though, that I still put “home town” in quote marks, so I’m apparently still ambivalent — feels like cheating somehow.)
My views are so far removed, now, from small town life of Hillsboro, but it did help to give me an understanding of that way of thinking and seeing the world, and I”m glad for that.
Jeez, I’m sorry you have such a semi-negative aftertaste of Austin.
Cuz yo, that’s where I’m from, and I love being from Austin. (It’s really still a nice place, though it certainly has its share of asshats and dousche-lords.) But they don’t call it the Velvet Rut for nothing. I left Austin the moment I realized the idea of staying was slightly more scary to me than the idea of moving.
So you are a rootless cosmopolitan. (that’s pretty cool.)