Home is where the heart is, or so the old adage goes.
Strangely, I've thought a lot more about home this fall as compared to my very first fall in Hanover. One would think the converse to be true -- coming from a different country, one would tend to miss it straight away. But whilst I hesitate to describe my thoughts of home as "missing" it per se, I definitely occupy my meandering thoughts more with the unique sense of place that Singapore afforded me when I was back home in the summer.
I notice a great divorce in the friends that I know here -- one group of them misses home. They long to meet up with friends who go to college closer to home, and they seem to cherish the sense of place that their hometown affords them. They bemoan the idea of sophomore summer and can't wait to go back during their breaks. The instant messenger on their laptop is probably the program that wears out their keyboard the most.
Another group, however, can't seem to get enough of Hanover and Dartmouth life -- going home is a chore to them. When they're back home, Dartmouth occupies their thoughts. They think about what they're going to do next term in terms of academics as well as their extracurricular activities; the lush grass of the Green captivates them in their dreams.
Even after an extended period of introspection, I honestly don't know which category I fall into. I know that I miss home, and that I will always think of some things associated with home and the sense of place that it offers me. I will miss going to sleep (and waking up) in 80-degree temperatures all year around. The things that have been a part of my life for 18 years -- the light rail systems, the rainforests bordering the highways that carve a swathe through the heart of the island -- these I identify as a physical part of my home. The changes that have been effected in me, however, have been vis--vis my family and the loved ones that I hold dear to my heart.
I've made a greater effort to keep in touch with my family, especially my parents and grandparents. About a week ago, I did what I don't normally do. I actually sat down in my room -- with academic work looming over my head -- for three straight hours, writing lengthy letters to each individual member of my family. In these letters, I put pen to paper and etched out my thoughts -- appreciation for the effort and time they sacrificed to take care of me, the many times I'm sure they could have done without a mischievous son around the house, and of the love I have for them. In my freshman year, I definitely wouldn't have considered such an investment of time -- in fact, I would probably have written them a two-line blitz telling them that everything was fine.
I'm even trying to set up a physical reminder of home at Dartmouth -- Club Singapura, a new club comprised of Singaporeans and anybody else who would be willing to learn about our unique multiethnic composition that gives rise to a unique sense of place and community on that little island. I hope that it grows and matures into an organization in which the Singaporeans on campus can contribute to any discussion and/or issues that crop up, as well as do our bit in adding some color to campus life, but I think that it also provides an important psychological support structure for all of us Singaporeans literally half-way around the world from home.
Sometimes, I think too that home is a state of the mind. Isn't Dartmouth home for all of us in one way or another? For so many of us, familiar institutions on campus have become mental landmarks around which we build our student lives. Collis Center, Food Court even the organizations that we identify with help to provide a sense of environment where we can find our little niche or pocket in which we feel totally at ease.
All said and done, even after writing this column, when I go to sleep at night I sometimes smell the red bean brew from the shops beneath my apartment in Singapore. Occasionally, I close my eyes, and -- just for that brief moment -- I'm back at home.
I guess the feeling will never go away, despite all that I might say to convince myself otherwise. And that, in itself, is something new to think about.
