Beyond Selidor

this is an interesting question - paired with what one consider one's hometown.

I've been an immigrant (emigrant?) since I was 11 ('99) and we moved away from my hometown when I was 9, so for much of my life I've really struggled to consider that town my hometown. I've been back there only once, maybe twice (I can't remember) since we moved away, and while I do still have some cousins there, my dad moved to Reykjavík in the mid to late 00s (I can't remember) so I haven't had a reason to go there in almost 20 years. I often say I grew up there, but I left when I was 9 - how much growing up did I really do in that place?

(could I think of things to do there off the top of my head if I were to visit? yes. I'd go straight to the natural history museum to check out if it has changed at all. it was free entry when I was a kid and I went all the time. I'd go down to Sprangan and probably be freaked out by how much smaller it will look to me as an adult than it did when I was a kid and couldn't scale the cliffs easily by myself because I was a tiny child, and then I would probably injure myself having a go on the rope anyway. I'd go to the 73' volcano eruption exhibition which I have never seen because the archaeological dig wasn't started until years after I left. I'd probably go check out the half-buried house I used to play on as a kid (without permission) to see if it was still there. I'd go check out the Norwegian stave church. it was erected when I was little, I remember the big do about it. while there I'd go out to the tiny light house nearby (not a light house) that helps guide the boats safely into the harbour and check if the tiny beach next to it is still there, and I'd stand by the light and watch the ferry come in or go out and the waves crash against the cement and wash away the beach. maybe I'd go to the lighthouse on the northeast side of the island. I'd go out to the beach on the south peninsula and see if people are still collecting söl and laying out to dry and maybe collect some myself for a snack. maybe I'd go to a motocross event. I'd probably go on a boat tour around Heimaklettur and into the caves there and listen to the guide tell smuggling stories in heavily accented English for the tourists and wonder if the guide will tell x or y story. maybe the guide would even tell stories about the Turkish pirate invasion. I'd probably hike Heimaklettur itself. I'd go to the valley with the artificial lake and be bored because there's nothing there to do when it's not the festival. (I'd probably glare at the golf course and engage in some vandalism against it, as usual, because it's been 26 years since I last vandalised it.) I'd go to Stakkagerði and check if the troll sculpture is still there (and again be shocked at how much smaller it will look to me and maybe be a little sad I'm to big to snuggle in the troll's arms now) and check if the memorial plaque to the Turkish pirate invasion is still there (they weren't actually turks, they were from Algiers and Morocco, and it happened in the early 17th century). I'd go to the library. Maybe the librarians would remember me. There's a museum in the library, I'd go to that. I'd definitely go out to the airport if I didn't come by air to look at the old plane suspended from the ceiling in the terminal, I loved that plane and I hope it's still there.)

I spent 10 years in Copenhagen which is where I've usually had people come visit me, and I never had any problems finding anything to do or see. There are a variety of things for different tastes and while some things repeated (I would always insist on doing a canal tour - it's 1h and costs something like 40kr if you go with the right company, the other company doing the tour charges almost 200kr for the same thing, it's ridiculous. I would also sometimes go on the tour even if nobody was visiting, it's lovely enough and for that price tag it's perfect) there would always be something else exciting to do when the next visitor came. the other place I've lived where people came to visit was Scotland and there was stuff to do there, both in Stirling where I was based and in other easily reachable cities and towns. I didn't have to think very hard to suggest things to do.

I also think that Copenhagen is probably the place I would call my hometown these days. when I talk about going home it's to Copenhagen because my siblings live there. for as long as they live there I will have strong ties to the place. plus I've thought about moving back once my pre-settled visa expires, depending on my career situation when the time comes. the few times I've been back since I moved to the UK I've gone to some of my favourite places and shops and eateries, the same places I would go to when I lived there, and spent the rest of the time with my family. being in Copenhagen does make me feel calm and relaxed in a way that I don't feel many other places, and it is in large part because I know where everything is, I know which bus to take and whether there's a 7-11 round the corner without having to look it up first.

I live in London now and obviously there are about a million and half things one can do here, and I haven't even explored a fraction of them yet. but I also feel with London that it's not my home, and not only because I don't *want* to live here, it's more like... London has for me been a place that I've seen on TV/film and a place I've gone to on city vacations and done touristy stuff. so it's not that it's a 'fake' city, it's that it's difficult for me to think of it as a place where one can live long term and build a life because it's so utterly foreign to me - even though I've been here almost two years! it doesn't gel with me on a level I can't even explain. we are just incompatible. like having different blood types or something. or to try to put it in other words I would never move to New York, for example, not just because it's on another continent but because it's also a huge city that exists in film and TV and I just can't picture myself in it. or like, idk, Sydney. Mumbai. Rome. Paris. Tokyo. it doesn't seem like a real place where one can live. and London is a lot like that, and a big part of it is, yes, it's expensive, and I don't feel like I belong here for many reasons, but it also just a lot of the time feels like it's full of...facades with nothing behind them. it's like my whole body and soul rejects the idea of London being 'home'. what does it feel like to live here for people who were born here and grew up here and have never lived anywhere else?

....sorry about all that text, don't feel obliged to read all of it, or even reply.