Every time I return to my home country for a yearly visit, I feel a little more alien, more estranged, and more disconnected than the year before. Living in another country for over a decade does that to you. It’s a sad feeling when you realize that you don’t belong there anymore, but it’s not necessarily a negative one. You know that all the change the other country put you through was good for you — but it takes time until your heart catches up, too. I knew for a long time that Hungary wasn’t my “home” anymore, but it was about two years ago when that really sunk in.
I sat on the terrace of a dump of a bar surrounded by a bunch of low-life alcoholics. I was there with an old friend who became a regular at the place and befriended every one of those drunks. I felt uncomfortable. Out of place, out of country. I remember one of them asking where I live and what I do. When I answered, I saw a total blankness in his eyes — he just couldn’t relate. In the same way, I no longer identified with anyone in that country or condoned how they lived. I had a lot of interactions like that in the past ten years.