Starbucks Vanilla Latte at Brussels Airport (there is only one Starbucks in Brussels and it's at the airport, after the security gates, can you believe that? And we're so behind, there's no choice in milks, it's automatically cow's milk- ok enough rambling)
Oh dear these last few days have been flying by, again I'm writing in English only, again time is not on my side.
Last Saturday I had a full day of marketing class (yeah evening classes twice a week and sometimes, icing on the cake, a whole Saturday), this week my evening classes as usual, and in between a one-day trip to Manchester for work. So today (Thursday) is actually "rest" day (even if I'm blogging from work, naughty girl ;-)), before heading to London tomorrow afternoon for an intensive (and intense I think!) week end with Baron Baptiste!
When I was on the plane from Brussels to Manchester I started thinking a little bit of what home was. You see, I am French, I live in Belgium, and I love the UK. I mean, LOVE. At university, I spent a year over there as part of an exchange programme, it was like a dream come true. I also lived in Madrid, Spain, as an intern during my last year of university. So I know a few places in Europe ;-)
But no journey or place gives me the same feeling as the UK. Whenever I take the train to London or the plane to Manchester, I'm saying to myself "I'm going home" and it comes naturally.
I can't explain it really, it's just a feeling from my guts.
Dijon, France, is the place that I'm from and where my family lives. Brussels, Belgium, is the place I live. They're home and in a way they're not. London is where my heart belongs.
Another place I feel this? My yoga mat.
Where is HOME to you? Is is the place you were born, the place you live, or some place else?