Missing the “Hygge” effect

But once again, that bell was ringing in my head: “It´s time to go home”.

I was in Spring Creek, New Zealand, when this desperation feeling appeared for the first time; and I use the word “desperation” not in a bad way. I don’t intend using it in its colloquial negative meaning. I was having such a great time: travelling around the island (South Island), good company, nice music in our white wrecked Combi and of course, one of the best nature scenes I’ve ever seen in my life. But out of the blue I’ve got this feeling telling me: “it’s time to go home”. I felt myself like Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) in Field of Dreams waking up every single night with the “If you build it, He will come” whispering in my ear; “it´s time to go home” was my line instead.

So after a long week repeating the same melody in my head, I crossed the Cook Strait to Wellington, got a bus, slept for 12 hours till Aucks and I got the first plane I could to come back home. That was weird, pretty odd feeling but I had to. Just for the record, I was for almost 11 months Down Under the Down Under, living in a suitcase and taking pictures like a mean machine: New Zealand is the kind of place you just point and shoot and got the perfect shot, so damn photogenic place.

One year after it happened again. This time, I was in Madrid and I just felt the need of getting back home. Man, that place was insane: best food ever and great beer all over. I still remember those crazy nights in barrio La Latina, having Pimientos de Padrón and cañitas or the dark clubs surrounded by a dense awful cigarette smoke layer in Lavapies. We spent many days at noon in Museo del Jamón drinking tercios and having 2 Euro Serrano Ham or Manchego cheese tapas. Epic time. Almost forgot: churros with hot chocolate at 4am in the morning after a night of excess and Rocknrolla. Jebus, I was young and brave. Think I got a few extra lines in my face that keep stories well hidden.

But once again, that bell was ringing in my head: “It´s time to go home”. Really didn’t know why that message keep appearing. Truth be told, I was living for a long season in England and after that I stayed in Madrid. Of course had many detours on the road: Fear and loathing in Amsterdam; HB beer experience in Bavaria or the Before Sunrise pilgrimage in Austria (by that time one of the few countries in Europe where smoking cigarettes was still allowed). Either way all this didn’t stop my going home mission. So I went to Plaza del Sol and took a taxi heading Barajas airport.

So the last time I’ve got that feeling circle around my head was just now, on my photography assignment in Chile. But this time, it appeared after a series of unfortunate events: I fell on the stairs and landed on my tailbone, going down ten steps before I fully stopped, situation that put me to rest for almost two and half weeks; I broke a lens while I was on site, 3500mts. in the middle of The Andes…not a good time for work but a very nice time to try Chilean food and drinks.

But I was having that sensation in my head telling me to go home. And of course, what I was missing was that Hygge sensation or, as I call it myself: the Hygge Effect: that comfortable sensation of being home, warm and barefoot, having some slik and a hot coffee while watching a movie, listening to the rain or snow -depending on the day- falling. Or even better, some kartoffelmad or rejemad at lunch time. I don’t know. It’s fantastic to be able to travel and know new places, taste different flavours, seeing and experience completely opposite traditions to mine but at the end of the day I start missing my wife, my nice and big bed, a hot shower, the order and tidiness of my city, the Simpsons at 02:30 and of course, the Hygge effect: that feeling you can only enjoy once you live in Denmark.

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