“Empire Records” is a wonderful snapshot of the mid-1990s, where rebellious teenagers revelled in anti-establishment idealism, with the typical naiveté and enthusiasm reserved only to youths.
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When I recently celebrated my birthday, one of the presents I received from my sister was a boombox. A red 90s boombox with a CD player and tape deck, evoking long lost memories of my youth that was filled with music by Lenny Kravitz and the angsty sound of Seattle bands.
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According to scientists, hugs can induce the release of oxytocin, a hormone that promotes feelings of love, bonding and wellbeing: you know, that warm and fuzzy feeling in your body and soul through the magic of touch.
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Was it the right decision to move back to Germany, to a country where I don’t always feel welcome? But then again, would it have been better to stay in Indonesia, where I might not be welcome anymore in the future? My seemingly endless battle with the notion of home, roots and identity started to rage once more.
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Twelve weeks ago, I boarded a plane that would take me from Jakarta to Berlin. I had taken this flight numerous times before, but this time, I was on a one-way ticket. I was moving back home.
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The ability to understand and speak several languages definitely comes in handy. It improves your CV and makes you look good during job interviews. It eases communication with locals and helps when bargaining at traditional markets.
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German writer Heinrich Mann once said that a house without books is like a room without windows. I had the privilege of growing up in a house with a lot of books and have loved reading ever since I was a child.
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Home. A little word with only four letters, defined as the place where one lives permanently, and something I never had. I didn’t grow up in just one city. Instead, I moved around to different in Germany, Japan and Indonesia every four or five years with my family.
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