Home is…

Jan 24^th, 2025 Friday Cloudy

On a recent trip to Taiwan, my husband and I stayed ten nights in a four-star hotel in Taipei.

It was a very decent hotel by most standards, and definitely living up to its star rating. Convenient location (almost any places we wish to go is one bus/subway/train ride away with no need to transfer), easy access to stores, night markets, and dining options (as may be the case everywhere in Taipei), comfortable, and quiet (our room was on the seventeenth floor, so we barely hear any noises from the busy streets down below). It even came with a jetted tub, a pleasant surprise that always delights me 😛 I happily approved it when we first checked in.

Of course, it was not perfect. Compared to what we are used to, the room was not that spacious, and neither was the bed. Yet this is Taipei, where spaces are extremely valuable, and the weather during our visit was benign enough that we did not have to fight for the thin blanket on the bed. Everything considered, I had nothing to complain.

So we went out sightseeing as usual. After each day, we went back to the hotel, took a shower/bath, and relaxed. Occasionally we spent some time discussing the itinerary of the next day, or deciding which restaurant to check out. On a few days, we finished our planned schedule a bit earlier, and I was glad that we could enjoy the nice hotel room. I looked forward to some conversation, some snuggling, and some naughtiness.

To my disappointment, my husband still went straight to dreamland in usually less than a couple of minutes.

Understandably, he must be exhausted after a full day’s adventures. Not as used to traveling or as proficient in the local language as me, he put in more energy to make sure things go smoothly. By the time he completed his evening routine, he was ready for slumber.

Yet he is not like that at home. At home, even when he is exhausted from work, he still savors dinner and dessert with me, chats with me, and we often devote two hours or more playing a game, debating about philosophy/education/humanity/anything, or watching a movie. He never seems to be in a rush to his bedroom, regardless of how tired he is.

Then it dawned on me, that in his mind, a hotel, however fine it is, is NOT a home.

A hotel is a temporary spot where one could rest while away from home. It serves the single purpose of letting someone recharge before heading out again. A home, on the other hand, is the place where fond memories could be created, fun could be had, laughter could be heard, and stories could occur. A home is like one’s castle, encompassing most of one’s life outside of work.

I wonder, how many people actually treat their homes like hotels. They wear themselves out from job/leisure/chores, and only return “home” for a snooze. Their homes, while grand-looking from the outside, show little sign of them living there, since their waking hours are always consumed somewhere else.

Home is where heart is. If you could cherish the moments wholeheartedly, you are at home wherever you are. On the contrary, a place with no heart, is at best, a lifeless house.