When I was 8, my family and I embarked on a journey that would change my life forever. We left the Philippines and everything that we were familiar with and accustomed to for a different country to put down new roots. Saying goodbye wasn't the hard part -- not knowing what to expect of my new life then was even harder. There were a ton of emotions going on, fear, excitement, anger, apprehension, dread and everything else in between.  What else can you expect from an eight-year-old? I didn't know what was in store for me then, but one thing was sure, it was definitely going to be different. I also had to face the fact that I may never ever come home. This scared the living daylights out of me, but staying wasn't an option; you just had no choice on the matter.

Austria. Even then I had memories of visiting the country prior to our stay there. I remember going to some places and just be surrounded by nature. The feeling was pleasant and safe, a part of me already gearing up for things come. I was trying to console myself into thinking that living there wouldn't be all that bad. Little did I know that the years I'd spend there would be some of the best years of my childhood. I enjoyed myself immensely. We lived in the countryside not far from Vienna, and I managed to adapt quickly to my new environment. I made a new life for myself; I learned the lokal language, went to the village school and made new friends. I was utterly and genuinely happy.

1989 was the year my family decided to go back to the Philippines. I abruptly and reluctantly left the people and places I called home for three years. I grudgingly said my goodbyes to friends and promised one another to write as often as we could – and we did! Through snail mail, we exchanged posters of New Kids on the Block, showed each other pictures of our soaring hairstyles of the nineties and updated one another on what our other classmates were up to. Some of us either went to college or university while others opted to work and continue their respective family-owned businesses in their hometown.

Fast forward to the late 90s early 2000s, where the advent of the Internet became a real game-changer. It was through a dear friend's perseverance that she found me on ICQ. We touched base and reconnected and then lost each other again somehow.  As the years passed, we did our own thing, and all lead our own lives. I've always wanted to go back to Austria but just like with everything else, life happened and things simply just got in the way. With the power of Facebook, my Austrian friends and I reconnected, and this time we stayed in touch and even created our group. It was only last October, almost 30 years since I last set foot in Austria, that I had the opportunity to go back and reminisce the times when I was a child. That trip did not disappoint. The Austrian sights, smells, and tastes all came flooding back to me – I even managed to recall my Austrian German! I couldn't believe that I was finally back and I was certainly up for more! 

The second trip to Austria was made even sweeter with my husband and children in tow. I excitedly told them stories, showed them the countryside where I lived, places I’d visited, where I studied and introduced them to the people who made my stay such a memorable experience. It gave me a different perspective on how I viewed my life -- how so many things have changed and how some things managed to stay the same. 

My recent journey back has reawakened my love for the country, its places, and its people; and as my family and I headed back to the Philippines, I knew that I couldn't entirely leave it all behind. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving and forgetting it all over again. I knew that I wanted to share my experience if it was only to hold on to the memories. So this is how this blog came about – my desire to share stories, first-hand experiences and reflections on how much Austria has impacted me and my desire to weave two cultures together. It's a journal of how a Filipino managed to live and thrive in a land that was far different from her own -- living life as a lokal foreigner.