WORDS & PICTURES: Abi Prowse
For my generation, the concept of ‘home’ is anything but straightforward. Awkwardly straddling the gap between the infamous Millennials and digitally- and socially-savvy Generation Z, there is a sense of unfamiliarity among those who currently find themselves, as I do, wading through their mid-twenties. Our personalities, when bundled together in this way, seem to be defined primarily by a sense of not-quite-belonging, of growing attachments which disappear as quickly as they are formed. We have experienced a shift in technology so seismic that we never quite had time to figure out each app or social network before everything changed again, seemingly overnight; the world of work seems to be moving at a similar pace. It is perhaps this flightiness, this innate sense of being caught between two worlds, that has rendered the idea of ‘home’ so difficult to pin down for so many.
I have called many places ‘home’ throughout my life. When sitting down to write this article, I actually realised that I have lived in eleven different apartments since I left my family home in 2014; a number which seems excessive, even for a location-independent freelancer. But why is it, then, that only a handful of these places truly felt like home to me?
More than the house itself, I have always found myself drawn to places, and to the experience that can be gained by living in that place: the quirks of local culture, the people you surround yourself with, the way a city or town can suit – or not suit – your own personality. Whilst I finally feel that I have found my ‘forever home’ – although I say this with some trepidation, as you can never be sure – I know that there are a number of places which have irreversibly shaped the person I’ve become. Each of these places, for me, will always feel in some way like home.
This past year, more than ever before, the concept of ‘home’ has become intrinsic to all of our lives; never have we spent so much time in one place, uncovering the nuances of our local area, or placing particular importance upon the décor of our house. But the idea of ‘home’ is much more complex than it may appear. In this piece, I wanted to pay homage to the places which have shaped me, carrying me through the different seasons of my life like a group of old friends.
Read about our experiences over the past year | The Art of Slowing Down: Lockdown Lessons
HERTFORDSHIRE, UK
The Place that Nurtured Me
Growing up among the sweeping greenery of the British countryside, my childhood was fairly idyllic: a fact for which I am eternally grateful. Hertfordshire is, in many ways, a cheerful stereotype in traditional Britishness: a collection of pint-sized villages, scattered across a patchwork of fields, which boast quaint, cutesy names, like Cold Christmas and Buntingford. Its only city houses a population of just 57,000 people, which can hardly be considered a bustling metropolis. Crime rates are relatively low, and there is a sense of community that can’t be found in larger towns or cities. Almost unbelievably, this pastoral rusticism is only a short train journey from the endlessly-vibrant city of London. All in all, life in Hertfordshire is pleasant, if occasionally a little monotonous.
My memories of growing up in one of these compact, endearingly-named villages often come back to me in supercuts: long summer evenings spent playing on the green in front of my house, with friends who felt like family; running out of the school gates in December to watch the impressive spectacle of Christmas lights flicker to life on the house next door; learning to drive upon the winding roads which led to the neighbouring village; nursing my first hangover in my parents’ back garden, listening to the ear-piercing shriek of the pigeons as my friends sat silently beside me, each of us clutching a cooling mug of tea.
Even now, at twenty-five years old, it is hard for me not to picture those fields, those winding roads, when someone asks me about ‘home’. In fact, among my friends from my childhood and teenage years – who remain, to this day, my closest friends in the world – we will often ask each other when we’re next ‘coming home’, or whether anyone is ‘at home home’. For it was here that we all laid the foundations for the people we would go on to become; it was here that we learnt the importance of human relationships, no matter the backdrop.
Discover the British countryside | Escaping the City: Castle Hedingham, Essex
EDINBURGH, UK
The Place that Gave Me my Independence
By eighteen years old, I was ready for a change; and, without physically leaving the country, I could not have spread my proverbial wings much further than the Scottish capital, Edinburgh. From the outset, it was everything I had dreamed a city could be. It was big enough to feel exciting and cosmopolitan, but small enough that places and people quickly became familiar. Scottish friendliness and humour are second-to-none, and if nothing else, Edinburgh guarantees you a great deal of fun: something that I welcomed with open arms (and with a sturdy liver). By day, Edinburgh is a vision in Gothic beauty, every corner steeped in history and literature, framed by the looming natural beauty of Arthur’s Seat – an extinct volcano that keeps watch over the city below. By night, Edinburgh is equally vibrant, its soul centred around art, music, and expression.
In spite of its undeniable charm, Edinburgh taught me some of my toughest lessons: in love, in friendships, and in life. It was the scene of my first real heartbreak, so much more devastating than anything could ever have prepared me for. It was in Edinburgh that I was first gripped by the sharp talons of anxiety, and where I first learnt to control it as best I could. My first job was in Edinburgh, too, bringing with it all the stresses of the real world from which you are shielded so greatly until words like ‘rent’, ‘bills’, and ‘pay check’ begin to take up space in your vocabulary. My years in Edinburgh were turbulent, in the typical way that almost everyone experiences in their late teens and early twenties; but no matter how many times I fell, Edinburgh always managed to pick me up, dust me off, and set my feet firmly back on solid (cobblestoned) ground.
I will always be grateful to Edinburgh for the friendships it has given me, for the lessons it taught me, and – most importantly – for the relationship it allowed me to build with myself. It was in Edinburgh that I truly found my independence.
ELOUNDA, CRETE, GREECE
My Ultimate Happy Place
The tiny Greek fishing town of Elounda is something of an anomaly on this list, for the simple fact that I have never lived there. How is it possible that a place you’ve never lived in can feel like home? As anyone who has visited Elounda can happily attest, it doesn’t take long for you to feel totally drawn into its laidback pace, its endless summer nights, and its perennially friendly locals.
For years, each summer, I would travel to Crete with a handful of my closest friends: one of whom was returning home to see his family, where he would then spend two or three months of the year. It is perhaps for this reason that we were all so quickly able to fall into step with island life – but there is something about Elounda that douses you with its allure, no matter how well-versed you are to its traditions. We would always arrive in the dead of night at Heraklion airport – on the cheapest flight we could find, of course – and would travel by coach through the darkness, emerging onto Elounda’s main road. Despite the time (we tended to arrive at roughly four a.m.), the town was still alive, with soft house music pumping into the warm night air, and people milling around from bar to bar. In true Greek fashion, we would often stumble, bleary-eyed, from the coach directly into the bar that fast became our local.
But it is not until the next morning, when the harbour and its characteristic fishing boats, decorated in a proud array of primary colours, are illuminated by the glittering sun, that you truly appreciate the magic of this place: for there is no other way to describe it. It is so easy here to cast aside everyday stresses, to leave your phone switched off and zipped away in a suitcase as you bask in the deliciously slow pace of life. Seemingly sheltered from the rest of the world, surrounded for miles by stretches of vibrant blue, Elounda never fails to make me feel lighter, no matter what troubles are awaiting me when I return.
Learn more about Elounda, Crete in our Photo Journal
LISBON, PORTUGAL
The Place that Fuelled my Creativity
Moving to Lisbon was a leap of faith for many reasons, not least because I’d never been there before I decided to pack my bags and up sticks. Something about the city drew me into it before I had even set foot in its ornately-tiled streets – and it turns out my intuition was entirely correct. The word most-suited to accurately describe Lisbon’s narrow, winding alleyways, its rattling custard-yellow trams, and its postcard-perfect houses is vibrant. Lisbon oozes life from the cracks in its tiles, the people as charming and bright as the architecture itself. An international, forward-thinking city, Lisbon has not lost touch with its traditions, rendering it all the more unique.
It was upon arriving in Lisbon that I finally decided to work full-time on my freelance career, and I could not have chosen a better place to do this. Lisbon is fuelled by creatives, by artists, and by innovators. People from all over the world set their roots in Lisbon; so much so that it is now considered one of the best destinations in Europe for digital nomads. Whether you’re working for a techy start-up or pursuing a music career, Lisbon will take your hand and guide you, its endless sun and lapping waves a consistent source of inspiration. It was here that I truly began to write, and to take my own writing seriously. In Lisbon, there is a sense of freedom that allows your ambition to take flight, with no fear of judgment.
Whilst people in Lisbon are undeniably motivated and hard-working, leisure takes a front seat, too; evenings are spent at the beach, enjoying a beer with friends, whilst weekends are filled with road trips, hikes, jam sessions, and brunches in arty coffee houses. Within this city, so filled with colour and light, I was reminded of exactly why we work: to create the lives we’ve always dreamed of living.
FRIULI-VENEZIA GIULIA, ITALY
The Place that Finally felt like Home
It’s a strange sensation, that feeling of homecoming in a place you’ve never been before; that sense of immediate belonging, of dissipating stress, of familiar warmth. As a bright-eyed twenty-year-old desperate for a fresh start, I could not have found myself (by chance – as the best occurrences tend to be) in a better destination than this little-known Italian region, tucked into the country’s north-easternmost corner. With its cobblestone streets, striking natural beauty, and laid-back vibrancy, it was everything I had been hoping for when I began my work placement year in the university city of Udine.
It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is about this region that captured my heart from the very beginning; but I can easily recall the precise moment I fell in love with Friuli-Venezia Giulia. My first morning in my new apartment, I woke up early for a training course. I shuffled timidly around in the semi-darkness, conscious not to wake my new flatmates (who would later go on to become some of my closest friends), and stepped onto the balcony outside my narrow bedroom. What I hadn’t realised the evening before, swept up in the chaos and awkwardness of arriving in a new place with an incredibly large bag, was that our sixth-floor apartment offered a view across the rooftops of the city and over to its castle. But this was not what enchanted me.
Beyond the haphazard sea of buildings was a backdrop of crisp mountains, almost lilac in colour in the morning light. To this very day, almost five years on, I now call this region my home – yet those mountains enchant me at every glimpse, never for a minute losing their majesty. On cloudy days, or even excessively warm summer days, those mountains disappear, as if a talented artist would return on a whim to repaint them whenever he saw fit. This is, to me, a wonderful metaphor for life, and something I aim to carry with me during difficult times: beauty is always lurking around the corner, even on the darkest of days, and can strike unexpectedly at any given moment.
