Before moving to China, I wondered what it’d be like to live in an entirely different environment — and it was the same for holidays like Cambodia or Vietnam, or when Hasse was born. You try to imagine these things and how they’d make you feel, how you’d react, or what they’re like. But everytime this pondering is kind of useless, because how you actually experience these things is entirely different and unexpected.

When I moved to Shanghai in 2018, I figured it’d just be for one year. My manager at the time pushed me to learn Mandarin, which I was reluctant to, because what’s the point for such a short time? But time flew by and learning Chinese did not turn out to be the struggle I imagined it’d be. The experience was nothing like learning French or German in high school. And because of the language, Shanghai started to unfold itself; I could suddenly read traffic signs, join conversations, and started to blur the lines between which one was home.

And for the largest part of these eight years in China, I lived here with the confidence to throw away boxes of newly bought appliances, because we wouldn’t return to the Netherlands any time soon. But slowly, something inside me began to shift; a sound that becomes louder over time and cannot be silenced. I’m still in love with this country, there’s so much to discover and learn, still — but my heart also yearns to be back with my family back in the Netherlands.

So  last Tuesday at the Dutch Consulate in Shanghai, we submitted the files for relocating to the Netherlands, with the whole family. And going through all these translated and stamped files, I couldn’t help but tense up. Like in 2018, I’m asking myself; Am I doing the right thing? But I also know that you cannot pre-empt this; these emotions need to unfold as you arrive at them. But I’ve learned that in life, at most you can only have half the things you really want — but on a brighter note, it’s nice that at least we get to choose which half.