Why I moved away

I could not remember exactly who the first person to ask me this question was, but it certainly did not happen once. At least once every two months, someone would approach me with this question. Most of the time, they are curious, and most of the time, I play it off as a joke.

I could not recall when I started to seriously consider studying abroad. The keyword here is “serious”. The thought of going abroad has always been in the back of my mind. I started learning English as soon as I enrolled in the local elementary school, and have not stopped since then. I became serious with English literature around high school, the same time I unlocked my obsession with Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch and Emma Watson. They mention literature, especially Shakespeare, a lot. In my young and impressionable mind, I simply wanted to be as cool as them. My logic was simple: people only befriend kindred spirits, so I have to become one of them to be their friend. Ideally, you would think, I would head to England, or an English-speaking country at the very least. I did plan to do so, but somewhere along the line, I crash-landed in Munich, Germany.

That is what I often tell people: "I crash-landed here, and I have not been able to get out.“ In truth, Germany is an economic choice. My family would not be able to finance me long term outside of Vietnam. My parents would certainly try, but given their age, I could not live with that. They are both retired by the time I graduate high school, not to mention we still have to take care of our grandma. In Germany, I can get initial support from my uncle, who has lived here for the last couple of decades. I never truly knew him, I was born long after he had settled in Munich. But there is a saying in Vietnamese: "a drop of family blood is more valuable than a whole lake.“ It did not end well, and it is a story for another time. But I have made it here, and that is what is important.

It is not easy to start over in Germany. Away from family and closest friends, it is agonising in a way I have never known. Homesickness is like a wound that never stops bleeding, and loneliness has rooted so deeply in my heart that sometimes I fear I cannot remember what it is like to live without it. All the other problems, like languages, paperwork, university, you get over them eventually. But homesickness and loneliness start anew every day in ways you do not even expect. It hurts to hear my new friends talk about plans with their family, it hurts to listen to my colleagues talking to their children on the phone, it hurts when I return to a dark, empty, cold, lifeless home. It even hurts when I lie awake at night with nothing but silence.

Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it, all this excitement of starting a new life, learning how to become myself, making new friends and learning new things. I love what I study. I love the life I build for myself in this cold, strange country. I love discovering how strong and capable I am. But whenever I hear my mother coughing on the phone, when I see how grey and tired my dad becomes, when I see the nephew I have never got the chance to hold grow over the screen of an iPad, my heart breaks all over again.

So why did I do it? Why did I move thousands of miles away from the people most important to me? To chase after a faint promise of academia glory that people like me are kept out of? To fulfil the promise I made to my younger self? To grow into the full potential of who I can be? At this point, to be perfectly honest, I do not know. The reason for me to move away has long been wiped away like the tears on my cheeks. I learn to live with a constant hollowness in my chest. I face the cruelty of this world with indifference because I am already living with my pain. I master the art of smiling even when I feel like dying inside. That is why I laugh and say a joke when someone asks why I move to Germany.