My first digs 
Back to the roots 
Third university home
Giving up one perfect apartment three years ago, moving into a less perfect one and moving back into a more suitable place to live, I’ve been thinking about what “home” means to me.
Well, my childhood home is gone! So, nothing to return to. But at least I was lucky to having been able to be there until the end, until every single piece of furniture was gone, boxes with the things I wanted to keep packed up and finding closure.
During my student days, I occupied three apartments. Starting out with a very small furnished 25sqm one room apartment beneath the roof, sharing the bathroom with my neighbour. With a 7-minute walking distance to university. I still remember the first night, the first night of a new part of my life. Away from home, my own little haven not quite mine yet. And I do admit: I was a little homesick. Wondering what the next years might bring.
I call my second home-away-from-home my “back-to-the-roots” home. I moved into the same apartment building from the turn of the century – as 1900 – in which my father spent part of his childhood. The huge apartments were converted into smaller ones (I’m talking about 2 apartments per floor where one also had room for a maid in former times) and I moved into the renovated one from Aunt Do, where she used to live with her late husband, Uncle Wolfgang. Even though I was farther away from downtown, I at least was closer to my Styrian part of the family, with Aunt Do living one floor beneath me. I loved this time. It cost me some time university wise, but I wouldn’t want to miss the time I could spend with Aunt Do. She was my friend, my confidante, my teacher. And I miss her at least as much as I miss my parents. And Sundays? I hiked to my aunt and uncle a few minutes away for Sunday dinner, which consisted of either Cordon bleu or Wiener Schnitzel with French fries and vanilla pudding most Sundays. Because they knew how much I loved – and still love – Wiener Schnitzel. Oh, how I miss my uncle’s cooking skills! He too has been gone many years now.
Apartment number 3 pulled me back into downtown, one parallel street away from university and my tutoring job and seven walking minutes away from the town center. I especially loved that again it was an old building with high ceilings … I have no idea how I survived the icy cold exterior bathroom with 14-16 degrees’ Celsius max in winter.
And now, I’m in my third apartment here in Germany. And every one of my apartments was home. Because I made them home. I put my stamp on them with my unique style, my pictures, paintings, keepsakes, candles, lots of plants and throw pillows. And of course, everything has to match. Starting with the towels in the bathroom to the bed linens and the desk writing mat (which I have acquired in three different colours for now to be able to adjust to the sofa deco pillows …). My current colour? Purple. Next week it might be forest green or bright turquoise or sunny yellow or dark red or elegant black. Which is another thing I can now embrace totally again to make my home MY home, without anyone telling me, how stupid it is to have seven sets of towels, ten sets of bed linens, at least a dozen throws and too many throw pillow cases to count … that’s home. And to end this post with a kitschy note: Home is where my heart is! And my heart is with my happy memories, all the little things from my past and present …
ABOUT EVERYTHING AND NOTHING 