“IT’S GOOD THAT you’re back, it’s better to be home,” my grandmother said, as I told her about my time in the UK.

Her words came from a place of love, after not seeing me for years. However, hearing them gave me a nagging feeling—I am back in the warm heart of Malaysia, to home-cooked meals, freshly sliced fruits and familiar sights, sounds and people; yet I feel out of place.

New Sights, New Sounds

I had the privilege of going off to study in York in the UK in September 2018. After my parents left, I sobbed on the bare mattress in my dorm room, surrounded by unpacked suitcases and newly bought essentials. Living far away from home for the first time, I felt overwhelmed and terrified.

Culture shock was a hot topic among international students. From the food available in supermarkets to the chilly, gloomy weather, I had to get used to an entirely new world, in a place where I knew no one.

Unlike the hustle and bustle of London, York, a city with a population of 200,000, is quiet and quaint. With winding, cobblestoned streets and medieval architecture, it is full of little shops bursting with character. In a sense, York is similar to Penang—an eclectic place where modern day meets old charm, and where heritage structures stand alongside urban shop lots.

After the haze of jet lag wore off and I gradually got used to living in York, the city became my home away from home. Outside of lectures, part-time jobs and volunteering, I embraced the slower pace of life. I fed the ducks on campus, enjoyed home-baked cookies and impromptu BBQs with my housemates, and solo-travelled to other parts of the UK to watch plays and attend conventions.

It was a liberating and exhilarating experience. I was able to reinvent myself and become more independent, emerging from my tightly closed shell and leaving behind the sheltered child that I was in Penang. While there were times I missed my friends and family in Malaysia, I gradually got used to living abroad, spending four entire years in York, even going through the Covid-19 lockdowns there.

What first began as a frightening experience made way for some of my most cherished memories.

Feeling Like a Tourist

Culture shock is a commonly discussed topic when it comes to living overseas. However, the same cannot be said for reverse culture shock—the disorientation and unhappiness experienced on returning to one’s home country following an extended period abroad. Culture shock had hit me like a crashing wave, but my reverse culture shock was gradual, like water slowly dripping into a glass until it eventually became full. Small observations and annoyances culminated in an overwhelming feeling of unhappiness. The largely car-centric infrastructure and frequent traffic jams in Penang are a constant reminder that I no longer live in a walkable city. In York, a 30-minute walk is a pleasant breeze; here, the same journey is arduous under the heat and with narrow walkways and uneven pavements.

My bedroom in Penang, which I share with my younger sibling, felt stifling; its small size almost claustrophobic for two adults to sleep in. It was a constant reminder of how much I miss having my own bedroom at university.

Though my accent has not changed much, my grandparents remark how noticeable the differences between my English and my Chinese have become. Whenever I speak English, my accent carries influences from childhood exposure to American media, intertwined with a bizarre mix of British, Malaysian and American ways of pronouncing words. Though good enough to communicate, and despite studying the language at SPM level, my Chinese is clumsy in the way I piece together sentences, in how limited my vocabulary is, and in how I sometimes translate directly from English.

I feel safe being back on the island where I grew up, yet at the same time, I have never felt more out of place. I am unable to navigate Penang easily without a map, yet I can walk through the streets of York with ease, able to recall the exact routes to get to my favourite bakery.

After tasting the intoxicating sense of freedom and independence in the UK, coming home has felt like I am regressing back into my former shell. I find myself yearning for the life I had in York. This longing fills me with guilt, especially whenever I hear my grandmother say how much she had missed me, and how much she appreciates me coming home.

A Heart With Two Homes

Caught between two homes. I yearn for the liberating freedom and personal space in York, yet embrace the familiar faces and comforting stability here in Penang. I want both and do not want to choose.

After a year, this feeling of not belonging in Penang has tempered somewhat, though the longing for York still lingers. While I have been keeping in contact with friends in York, I have been meeting new people at work, slowly re-adjusting to life and moving forward. I have come to realise that home is more than just a physical place. Home is my memories, my emotions and the people I keep close to my heart. Home is the feeling of safety in Penang, and the feeling of community in York. I may return to York someday, to catch up with friends, venture deep into the cosy nooks of independent bookshops, and take a pause and enjoy the quiet gardens.

In the meantime, I am finding joy again in little things here in Penang. Sweaty walks through the centre of George Town have become more than reminders of how much I miss the walkable streets of York. They are now also opportunities to discover hidden shops and alleyways that I would not otherwise find. The Char Koay Teow auntie and Wan Tan Mee uncle near my workplace who remember my orders make me smile, just as the owner of my favourite York bookshop did with their thoughtful recommendations.

Perhaps York did not take pieces of me away from Penang, but instead reshaped me and readied me for new experiences. Perhaps I do not need to fit back in Penang as if nothing has changed. Instead, I can find ways to navigate both homes physically and emotionally.