I got to the corner of Moneda and Brasil and I almost cried. I could see the entrance of my old building from there. Moneda 2155, where I lived for almost 7 years. Slightly drunk and tired, still it hit me. A revelation preceded by the feeling that was lost in me.
I have been from bar to bar, house to house, friend to friend, relative to relative. I have been all around Santiago, wandering the city, the streets, the dusty sidewalks and shady corners. I’ve tasted most of the traditional dishes and drinks. Talked the old talks. Seen the old pals. Hugged the old siblings and parents. And the insatisfaction and frustration were swallowing my guts from within. There was something not quite right. Something quite missing.
It was 2 am when, after a 15 minutes walk, I arrived to Moneda and Brasil last night. A natural sensation of relief invaded my body and mind. Because it was only natural feeling that after so many years living there. But this feeling was soon replaced by sadness. I knew then that was the home I came looking for. And this home wasn’t there anymore.
I don’t feel comfortable in Denmark. Loneliness, racism and the language barrier don’t help. But Chile without the home I abandoned is not much better either. Nothing has changed much, but I did. My people changed too, though I changed even more, to the point of losing track of who the fuck I am now. Or maybe I do know, and it’s simply hard to accept it. To face the hard truth of the detachment from my homeland and the big hole that now I need to fill with a new place to call “home.”
Moneda 2155 of the future, where are you?