Where are you from?
I think I got this question 500+ times (and counting...).
However, recently, a switch has flipped somewhere in the back of my mind. Multiple times, my answer has taken an embarrassingly slow time, like 3 seconds. 3 seconds of deep thinking, an accelerated sequence of frames, with the countries I visited, the ineffable variety of their characters and faces. Because you know there is no right answer.
Then politeness overcomes the hesitation. So you say it. Okay, you regret it already. No, wait, here it comes. "I've been to Venice!", "I love carbonara", "What do you think about pineapple on pizza?". You can almost hear the rushed steps of the stereotypical ideas crowding into his/her prefrontal cortex (by the way, I have never seen a mandolin in my entire life). Inevitably, growing up and living for 22 years in a place leaves a footprint. Yet can we assume - in this hyperconnected, globalized world - that such identity is not set in stone? Just to see what happens when shaking down this heavy cloak of mental shortcuts and trying to shape our identity in a different way.
The question hits harder once you move abroad. Different cultures, nasty languages and novel experiences. Holding tight while riding the classical emotional rollercoaster. You encounter diverse and unique experiences, become more open-minded and meet interesting people. All this would not have been possible by staying in your home country. Yet, from time to time, an sense of emptiness emerges. You are not sure whether it is safe to gaze into the abyss.
Sometimes you fantasize about going back. But deep down you actually know that you are chasing a reality which does not exist anymore. It is in fact a zero-sum game. You trade some [cool stuff, problems] in exchange of other [cool stuff, problems]. Home is a different concept now. The person you were back then, did not get on that plane with you. He was standing right there, outside. Scratching his head and wondering why he cannot go along with you on this new journey (you should pay more attention when looking outside the plane window next time).
Coming here was a culture shock. In addition, now you have to face the reverse culture shock when going back. Finally, you can recognize the limits and positive aspects of your own culture. At the same time, due to this enhanced perception, everything and everywhere feels a compromise, from now on. Time keeps flying, even while staying abroad your identity changes completely every 3-6 years and you cannot recognize your past self anymore.
At this point, the complicated maze of chasing happiness has grown more intricate, yet at least with the realization you cannot find it in any specific place, but within yourself.
The only thing I can sense, with a good degree of certainty, is that my identity is fragmented, scattered in time and space across the planet.
Dear reader, where are you from?