Recipe for a Home

I have created many small places I like to call « home » over the years. Whether in Switzerland, Singapore, or Sapporo,, I have re-lived the exhilarating move of adulthood: leaving the parents’ nest. This newfound freedom is precious, and entirely our own - even if the space is shared with room-mates or boyfriends.

But no matter the place, and no matter the other people, I have always accomodated my room to the height of coziness, and would seek out ways to connect with my neighborhood. Here is the recipe for a « home », as I know it:

Ingredients:

1. A room with a view

2. Cozy bed (accompanying plushie non-optional)

3. Desk facing a window

4. Art pieces (to inspire, add color, and reminisce fondly)

5. Space for spontaneous dancing / karaoke / yoga

6. Freshening up corner

7. Yummy meal corner

8. Safe neighborhood, accessible transporation

Instructions:

1. Set up cozy space

2. Assess neighborhood shops

3. Try different walking routes

4. Have one inside routine (making seasonal tea)

5. Have one outside routine (visiting local bakery)

6. Tidy up regularly

7. Make good, colorful food in special plates

8. Have friends over

9. Build up memories

10. Embed yourself in this space you can call your own little home

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I have always been undeniably proud of the little spaces I have created over time. Safe, intimate, and part of a kind community with whom I can connect. These rooms have been my portal between vibrant cities of possibility and the soft depths of my solitude.

Recipe Results 1:

While I worked at a startup in Singapore at the senior age of 20 years old, I lived in a neat, faceless hotel apartment. It was the loveliest neighborhood, and I’d love going out for walks by the gorgeous SMU campus, or the endless shopping in Orchid Road. My favorite meal was a plate of chicken rice and a sweet teh ice. Favorite itinerary on a lonely night was to get food in Chinatown (preferrably beef noodles), get a dessert and wander around Fort Canning gardens. With friends we’d go to Boat quay or the wild Prinsep Street.

Singapore was mostly, for me, a vibrant, but lonely city. Though I wanted to become a regular at a certain place, unique cultural practices kept a firm distance between customer and employees. Hawker Markets could be kinder, but my Chinese was limited to pointing at menu items and agreeing to every extra item they asked about. Though I feel deeply connected to the city, the city doesn’t remember me, and it moves on without my person.

At the end of five months of living there, I had grown to unimaginable heights, as I came to be part of the metropolis whose diversity, life and possibilities opened many levels of depth inside me. To this day, Singapore holds a special place in my heart, as an orchid in a garden.

Recipe Results 2:

Then in Switzerland, I started a new life, with a new school in a new city. Geneva was a small, sleepy town after the rush of Singapore, but I fell in love with its cobblestone charm, fall colors and spring gaieties. My neighborhood was a lovely suburb, where I finally had a chance to really become a regular at cafes, and connect with favorite patrons. I had the time, language and chance to become part of the local community - only my student budget limited how often I actually went out in town. When I did, I always made the deliberate intention to buy into local businesses, with whom I had shared a pleasant experience, or whose work I admired. I was lucky to be in one of the loveliest neighborhoods of the city, where small businesses and quaint stores often bloomed.

My room in Carouge (and later, Champel), was perfectly cute, and quickly became my favorite place to relax and to focus for studying. In the mornings I’d roll out of bed and do stretches on my white fur rug, waking up slowly in a soft blur. I had just started a small collection of ceramics and plates, which made my home-cooked dishes all the tastier. Everything was arranged to make my days feel lighter, bringing a splash of color to the clourds. Overall, Geneva was a town where I could set my roots.

I always shared my room to family, friends and the occasional lover. Some of my favorite memories in that space are: gossip nights, study sessions until 4am, tea party afternoons, sleepover brunches, suddenly housing a dozen friends for the early morning flight, and many crashes after parties or the end of long trips. And of course, cozy mornings with a boyfriend, tears from crying over broken hearts, nights with passionate flings, and hours of daydreaming over a new crush.

Recipe Results 3:

In a regular private apartment, rules can be flexible, but in a student dorm, curfews and security checks bar your capacity to host people. During my year studying in Sapporo, Japan, the dorm was very well kept and right on the campus, but forbade the entry of any non-international students, and had a strict 11pm curfew every day of the year. The doors were simply locked after then as the security guard slept, leaving you no further possibility to negotiate (although a polite call, well enough in advance, may grant you entry until the deliriously late hour of midnight).

We did not let this rule hamper the unbridled joy of our stay; bars (居酒屋) would become early evening occasions, friend meetups would be in afternoon cafes, club night outs would turn into “either go hard (until 6am when the doors opened), or go home (right now, 21:46)”, and the casual fling would be, as the local tradition dictates, in a love hotel.

These different rules of the home became a new opportunity to bond with one’s room-mates (12 other international students from all over Asia) over shared cooking and studying, and enjoy the life that the day brings to small cafés and shops around town. Here, in Japan, I spoke the language well enough for conversation that bridges the gap with shop owners, letting me connect with them and learn about their art in ways that no other English-speaking exchange student could do yet. I was able to embed myself into this foreign community by extending a friendly relation, and my support of their business was always met with kindness, an extra gift and the most rewarding of all - recognition when I returned.

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So, in these three places I strove to follow my careful recipe for home, adjusting to my environment. In Singapore, my flower unfurled her petals to the sky, as an orchid. In Geneva, my roots deepened into a close community, warm and full. In the land of the rising sun, my leaves expanded to new horizons, like the tea plant I grew to worship.

I hope you will enjoy this recipe as much as I have. It continues to grow with me, as you will too.