It’s time to stay close to home for a while… simply to be careful with finances… and also because, quite honestly, I just love my rooftop apartment with its little terrace. Even more, I love sitting on said terrace for hours together with my room mates JoJo and Luna, two adorable felines who I can’t imagine living without at this point. They soothe my soul and make me happy every moment of every day.
But I do get out for walks as often as I can, exploring the neighbourhood, downtown area, as well as the outskirts of my home town Zurich.
Water is what defines Zurich most of all. Lake Zurich, the old moat called “Schanzengraben”, the river Limmat, and the river Sihl. I never get tired of strolling along those bodies of water. In most cases they are lined with beautiful cityscapes as well, interspaced by parks. Or, further down the river Limmat, the riverside is lined with cozy cafes. And graffiti, glowing brightly in all colors of the rainbow.
After many years of living and working abroad, I am rediscovering my home and learning to love it with fresh eyes.
Spring in Zurich is a festival of colours. A banquet of flowers. Green leaves begin sprouting everywhere in a myriad of hues. The air feels lighter all of a sudden. Warm and fluid. Caressing your skin. Growth is everywhere. In the earth, the trees, the lakes, the rain, the skies… Every living thing around you awakens in a rich carpet of scents and visual abundance.
During the last few months, I didn’t get out much except for short walks around the neighbourhood. Work was intense, and the weather was just too grey and wet for me to want to go on big excursions.
However, as soon as spring kicked off here and the days got longer, warmer, drier, and sunnier, I took a week off to go where it was still cold, grey, and wet: to the fjords of Norway.
What brought me there initially was a concert by Ludovico Einaudi I just didn’t want to miss. Then, I figured why not leave Oslo straight away and head to the area around Bergen to explore some of the far larger fjords in the west of Norway a bit.
It turned out to be an amazing trip. Each fjord I visited was more beautiful than the one before it. Especially the Naeroyfjord, with a ferry trip from Gudvangen to Flam, was absolutely, mesmerizingly beautiful and invigorating. Even more so since the sun came out for most of the day, bathing everything in a crystal clear light, enhancing the hues of white and blue all around me to an eerie brilliance.
It was my first time ever traveling to Norway or the European North in general, and I’ll most definitely be back. For hikes, road trips, and boat cruises around even more fjords. And to explore other northern countries as well.
In addition to the landscape which was almost unreal in its beauty, I loved the general atmosphere in Norway. There was a distinct politeness, calm, and relaxedness which felt like blessed relief. Time seemed to slow down and whatever stress I felt still lingering from the months of working before soon vanished without a trace.
Everything seemed so easy, quiet, accessible, and open-minded. I never quite felt anything like it anywhere else during my abundant travels through many countries around the world. It was simply enchanting.
Home. After not having had a home base for almost 2 years, I cannot express well enough how grateful I am to have found a place in June 2021 to which I can return to happily, and relax in, every single day.
Many good friends offered me shelter along the way when I was homeless, from September 2019 to June 2021. But prolonged couch surfing, even if it is deluxe couch-surfing in between, exacerbates loneliness quite intensely after a while.
At least that was the case for me. I am an introvert. Thus, I really need my own space, no matter how small, to be able to retreat and recharge my batteries on a daily basis.
Certain things, which I had taken for granted over the years, then lost, are now making me feel so grounded and happy again. To have my own doorbell and letterbox for example. And to open said letterbox every now and then to find a surprise postcard or letter from friends (I’m not so happy about the bills). To be able to put everything exactly where I want to put it. To have space in the fridge and have the opportunity to cook whenever I feel like it. To be able to be minimalistic to my heart’s desire and do my best so my life and space don’t get too cluttered. To grow my own herbs. To get up as early as I want to, make myself a coffee, and watch the sunrise on my terrace. To listen to my music, loud, whenever I want to.
All this was lost when I lost my home. And, wherever I was a guest, I didn’t quite dare to take up too much space. Now, I’m loving my re-claimed freedom. And I’m grateful to have found such a beautiful space to put myself back together again ☺️
Do you have moments when you feel utterly lost? You might even have a roof over your head, great friends, food on the table, and a regular income. But something has shaken your world to the core. And it’s been like a wake-up call. Everything has shifted since then. Your world is in the process of re-aligning… or maybe aligning properly for the first time ever… whatever that may mean. Maybe, you’ve been given a chance to get to know yourself better. And become a better person through deeper introspection. To right some wrongs you’ve done to yourself and others. Or, at least, to find some peace in your mind and heart.
But you don’t really know anything. And, even though it feels as if you are currently in limbo or at least slow motion in some kind of process, you can’t be sure where you are in this process. Or if you’ll ever arrive anywhere.
Sometimes, you wonder if you’re even made for this world. You seem to lack the aggressive drive most other people have. You seem to lack their self-confidence and natural sense of entitlement. Your values seem so different from theirs. As seem your needs. Your dreams.
Looking around you, you want to get a sense of who you are, but you can’t. Looking inside you there is only uncertainty and confusion. You seek peace and a deeper, honest, authentic, open understanding of everything. You’ve sought this for a long time. Yet, still, you fail. You fall short. You disappoint yourself and others.
And, when it comes down to it, after a life-time of struggling and trying to find your place in this world, it seems as if with each year, rather than making headway, wherever it is you are headed eludes you more instead of less.
Wandering around the forest of your neighbourhood as well as the metaphorical forest of your life, you can’t help chuckling at yourself and wondering WTF. It even seems as if the forest agrees with your puzzlement and answers as you happen upon a random piece of forest trail art.
I’m on vacation! 2 1/2 weeks off work. Thankfully, as of this moment it still feels as if I’m suspended in time. I have all the time in the world.
In fact, this is my first vacation since beginning of 2019 that is without stress and anxiety. A vacation without existential angst… even though I’m still far from feeling steady ground under my feet again.
Nevertheless, I enjoy many a happy moment. My cat is a great teacher. He shows me how to stay in the Now.
Because often, when I see my social media feed, I get quite depressed.
Every day, there is another “congratulate Blabla for starting a new position as Blabla for this and that show.” I read it, feel happy for my colleague, but also immediately feel this deep ache radiating all the way to my core. A kind of homesickness that is incredibly hard to shake. And to be entirely honest, possibly also hurt pride.
I need to be careful not to dwell on it too much. To not get overwhelmed by sitting on the bench.
The thing is, I love working backstage, especially for circus shows. Yet, no matter how hard I’ve worked during my thus far 10 years in the business… I’ve always found it incredibly hard to get a foot in the door. I blame nepotism. So many times, my skillset and enthusiasm didn’t seem to matter when I applied for a job at a show. Managers would only hire people they already knew well…
These days, I am working in a corporate office. Admin work similar to what I am used to as a stage manager. The work is also just as fast paced and ever-changing. So that is good. Yet, I do miss being backstage running tracks in the evening. And I miss calling the show.
I’ve adapted to so many things in my life already. Yet this time, the ache remains. It feels as if I’ve lost something forever and it will leave a void I somehow cannot quite fill with anything else. Because nothing compares to the almost electrifying vividness of bringing a show to life together.
I am now stumped and quite a bit lost when it comes to figuring out where I’m headed with my life. I feel uprooted. Wanting to arrive somewhere yet not quite able to do so. Daily, I feel the ache of wanting to go backstage again to work my heart out for something burgeoning with creativity and soul.
As for hurt pride… there is the exasperating fact that everything else I’ve ever put all my energy towards has worked out for me. Except working backstage and being able to build a successful career as a stage manager. Over the years, I have been great in helping others in the industry to kickstart their career. Yet, for myself, the backstage universe seems to remain strangely out of reach.
Well, looking back over the last decade, I’ve had a good run of it, too. I worked for two amazing aquatic circus shows. One of them the largest one in the world at the time. I also got to work with a great international team on the first ever electric vehicle stunt show in the world.
So, I did manage to squeeze more than just a foot in the door every now and then over the years. And I did my best to gather as much experience as I could while I was with each show. In my last job in the industry, I even finally called the show. Meaning, I ran the show from the control booth. It’s sort of like being the bridge between everything. Keeping people safe and the spectacle flowing. Much like being a conductor for a huge orchestra. Just that in this case it’s performer cues, light, sound, special effects, props, and all kinds of things coming together. It’s like creating the same perfect Mandala every night. The timing must be just right. But still, the show will never be exactly the same.
Calling the show was something I had wanted to do for a long, long time.
Now, I seem to be completely out of the loop. As if none of these experiences ever happened. Whereas most of my former colleagues are falling neatly back into place after the pandemic. Like human puzzle pieces in a re-activated live Tetris game.
I wonder if maybe being a stage manager is just not my door? But how can something that feels so deeply invigorating and seems to fit so well to my personality and skillset be the wrong door? Maybe there are things I just cannot grasp and understand yet.
Maybe answers will await further along the road.
For now, my old street cat JoJo reminds me to count our blessings and enjoy every precious moment. To trust that, somehow, the mystery of where we’re headed will be revealed over time.
We do have a roof over our head after being homeless for a good 1 1/2 years (well JoJo was homeless for a good decade or more). Plus, it’s not just any roof. We found a gorgeous little rooftop apartment with a terrace. Our place is flooded with light. Different hues of golden sunlight find their way through our windows over the course of each day.
And I have a job. That’s not to be taken for granted.
It’s also good to have health insurance again. There are some aches and pains both JoJo and I have been struggling with that we can now take care of.
Most importantly, we are surrounded by a group of close friends whom I’ve known for decades. Many of them have always been there. No matter where I went. No matter for how long. And they’ve always accepted me for exactly who I am. We’ve grown in all kinds of different directions and yet have never grown apart.
So, JoJo and I are in a good place.
I’m relaxing into the flow as best as I can.
The person inside me who wants to have a plan would love to know about some deeper meaning in all of this. Would love to know the destination we are headed towards. And would love for it all to instantaneously make sense and feel right.
Most likely, a few years from now it really will all make sense and I’ll know why everything had to happen the way it did.
I know, it’s about the journey, not the destination. The adventurer within me appreciates that. The adventurer within is grateful for all the moments spent now in this current life situation, this current place.
Mostly, I am incredibly grateful for and happy about every second I get to spend with little, old JoJo.
Time together is always limited. I guess it is what makes the happy moments so incredibly, overwhelmingly precious.
But in our case now, I am more aware than ever before of how limited time together is. No one knows JoJo’s age. He might be anything above 10 years old. And he has FIV.
The time we have together. Friendship. Love. Supporting each other is more important than anything else. Be it human to human, or human to animal.
So, here we are, two close friends, cat and man, enjoying some last, golden autumn sunshine together.
Another mountain lake and the, in this case, lucky occurrence of being woken up early by a busy road and construction site right next to where I had bunked for the night.
Lake Lucerne was majestic just after sunrise.
Crisp, cold air which demanded several layers of clothing. But each breath was invigorating. And nature’s color palette was a feast for the eyes. Soft edges at first. Then everything transformed, becoming crisper and clearer as the morning progressed.
As for the sunset… not bad… Not bad at all, either. Stood there with a glass of white wine in my hand, closing my eyes every so often to commit the magical moment to memory. Do you do that sometimes, too? Close your eyes when faced with something you never want to forget, so as to take a photograph with your soul? The eyelids become the shutters of your internal camera. And in that swift moment of closing your eyes, going inwards, you take a picture for eternity.
During 18 years of living in Switzerland, off and on, I didn’t explore much of the Swiss mountains. Essentially, I am not a mountain person, but rather love wide open spaces. I tend to get a bit claustrophobic in the mountains, between those high walls rising up all around me.
However, last year’s 1-month hike along the Swiss Jura trail and afterwards another month through several French mountain chains has highlighted the beauty of those mountain regions.
For this, my 3rd stint in Switzerland, the goal is to see more of this country’s beauty and explore far more.
A few days ago, I spent a couple days in Flims and was enchanted by Lake Cauma. In parts, the myriad shades of turquoise were almost as inviting as a tropical lagoon.
A friend and I spent a while just sitting there, at the water’s edge, gazing out over the lake, enjoying a rare moment of utter peace.
It’s been eight months now since I came back to Zurich. A place which has been my home two times before already. All in all, this is my 19th year here. It is more home than any other place on Earth, and yet I struggle to relax into it.
Over the last thirty years, I’ve grown and learned in so many places around the world. Besides Switzerland, I’ve lived and worked in the US, Germany, Maldives, Belgium, Macau, Hong Kong, Canada, Malta, France, and the Caribbean.
Of all those places, I guess I miss Macau the most. Its climate, its culture, its people, and its food. And, with it, also my intensive life there working for large-scale circus and stunt shows.
In the spring of 2020, my greatest dream almost came true. After 11 years of working backstage and a good 5 years of applying for every stage management job Cirque du Soleil advertised, I was finally interviewed by them. For Nysa, their coming resident show in Berlin.
I got through the first interview ok, was shortlisted and invited for a second interview.
Then, just 3 days before this second interview and just before a very real chance to finally work for the company I had dreamed about ever since I was 21 years old and experienced them for the first time (in 1992), all Cirque du Soleil shows around the world were shut down due to Covid19. All interviews were cancelled as well.
Now, Cirque du Soleil shows are slowly reopening. But Nysa has been cancelled. And, I remain an outsider, not part of any clique or network. My chances of realizing this lifelong dream again looking slim at best.
Starting a new life here in Zurich, I’ve begun working as something akin to executive assistant for a management consulting company. I work for nine people at the same time. And, astonishingly enough, the job content is eerily similar to the admin part of working as a stage manager for large-scale shows.
There is also the same sense of urgency, the same unpredictability, constant changes, thinking on your feet, everything coming in late but needing to be done yesterday. And this sense of never quite knowing what the day or week will bring.
The one big difference is that now there is no instant gratification. As a stage manager, I am backstage in the evenings, after a day of admin, and see firsthand what I am working for. I feel the audience, the performers, the entire atmosphere backstage and onstage and I know I am making a difference. I know what I am working for.
Now, everything is abstract. I have an endless list of tasks, but do not hear if anything I have done actually helped towards the success of the project. I do not even hear if the project was successful in the end at all.
That being said, my job is never boring. The company climate is great. And the team is as good as it’s ever going to get, compared to everything else in my 32 years of work experience. So, I am in a good space.
At the end of the day, I guess I am simply homesick. Missing my home in Macau, in Coloane village, a small fishing village where at this time of year, I’d see millions of dragon flies soaring through the evening skies. And I’d sit on my rooftop after a long hard day, gazing at the stars, and having impromptu conversations with friends.
I am homesick for tropical climates, the cold beer in the evening which never tastes better anywhere else, and the local street food sold by my neighbors.
I am easing back into the structured perfection of Central European life. All the while realizing that a huge part of my heart will forever long for those places, experiences, and people I had to leave behind on the other side of the world.
Don’t get me wrong. I am happy where I am. Happy in the moment. Content gardening on my terrace, feeling the loving presence of the street cat I rescued 10 months ago. My memories of all that was before sustaining me.
But there also is a yearning. Missing something that might be forever a thing of the past.
I wonder if this is part of the human condition. Part of the condition of travelers. Or just part of my condition. To become so much a child of the world that the ache for faraway places becomes permanent.
In my case, it is a double ache. For life backstage, helping to create magic onstage. And for a life in exotic places where material safety and structure are not a given. Where typhoons muscle their way through the city, expats tell each other wild stories, and nothing is ever quite easy, comfortable, and secure.
These aches might be a permanent fixture in my life. But I am so grateful for them. I wouldn’t want to miss a second of all the experiences I was lucky to have thus far, all over the world. Even if it means that somewhere, in the deepest recesses of my heart from hereon out I will always be homeless, or at home everywhere at once. Whichever way you want to look at it.
(The elephant seen in a local forest around Zurich. A little taste of places yet to be discovered for young adventurers travelling in their minds on the back of stone elephants to far away destinations.)
As happy as I am where I am right now, I miss my home in Macay every single day. I miss my life in that strange, yet beautiful little town right next to Zhuhai, China. I miss my cozy apartment with a view over the South China Sea and the mainland. With its lush tropical forests and ever-growing competing forest of high-rise buildings.
I miss the people of Coloane village, like the pushy vegetable vendor who always talked me into buying more than I wanted. The Lord Stows restaurant employees downstairs who always brought my takeaway on a regular plate. The old lady around the corner who sold soft drinks and beer from her living room and who would be deeply asleep on the couch whenever I stopped by to buy something.
I miss the wonderful smells of Chinese or Portugese cooking lingering over the entire city. The tropical rain showers. The typhoons in the fall which reminded me of how small I am and left me in awe of nature’s grandeur. The dragon dances when a new shop opened and the splendor of gifted flower arrangements which were displayed outside the shop for a few days.
I miss Buddha’s birthday with all its festivities throughout town. The bright colors. The small temples in almost every street, the offerings and incense everywhere. And the kitchy lanterns lining every street for each festive holiday.
I miss the strange and infinitely complex Cantonese language which I was slowly beginning to understand. I lived in Lo Wan Si Koi and worked in San Hou Tin Dei (City of Dreams) and later in San Hou Jing Wui (Studio City).
I miss the Coloane hills through which I hiked many times, enjoying the tropical forest, the little pagodas, and the view of old, rusty barges on the ocean far below. I miss La Gondola on Cheoc Van Beach, with its old fashioned, bright red Coca Cola umbrellas, its incredible Calzone, and delicious Sangria.
I miss the narrow, mysterious alleys which were poetic in their imperfection. The swallows who sat lined up by the hundreds on the low hanging electrical lines in Old Taipa Village. And I miss those nights enjoying a wine with Jesus and my friends at El GauchoMacau, my favorite restaurant of all time. With its incredible steaks and homemade Chimichurri. In contrast, some of the best evenings were having Hot Pot with my Chinese work mates. Macau always stunned me with its potpourri of traditional and international delicacies.
Or having a Tsing Tao on a hot summer’s night on my rooftop, watching the fireworks over Chimelong Park just across the ocean, whilst letting the warm night air, so still and full of the fragrance of tropical foliage, caress me.
I miss all those moments and many more.
And I miss my cats. I think of those three brave little souls whom I was forced to leave behind and who I can now only hope have been left in good hands where they will be loved and have a caring forever home.
I tell myself to let go completely. Because there is nothing else I can do. No amount of pining and worrying will be able to change the unchangeable. What happened was way beyond my control. For my sanity, I want and need to let go. But, at the same time, I also never want to forget all these beautiful impressions and memories. And I always want to hold Pushka, Nacho, and Fellini in my heart. My three little feline children.
So, as I move on and slowly build a new life, grateful for what I have been given and been able to rebuild from the ruins, I still can’t help but feel the pain of all I have been forced to leave. Even though it’s now been almost two full years since then. The nightmares have almost stopped. I only have them a couple times per week now… when, for the first year, I had them every single night and could barely sleep.
I am getting back on my feet. I feel a sense of peace again. A sense of happiness. But the memories of a place and life I loved and had to leave behind and the pain that grew from that will always be a part of me now, I suppose.
In a way, I’m lucky as well though. I’ve always followed my heart and its led me to wondrous as well as challenging places and experiences. I keep growing from all I have learned. And I have more than one home. Geographically, thus far, I have four. Macau is most definitely one of those magical and important harbours in my life.