UnEarth Magazine.

Words by Jasmine Fong, Art by Zoë Graham

My idea of ‘hometown’ has always been a place filled with bustling crowds and sizzling noises. Growing up in the vibrant city of Hong Kong, my memories of home are brimming with the sights and sounds of everyday life. From the vibrant street vendors selling fried hot chestnuts to the constant chatter of neighbours boasting about their kids’ accomplishments, these interactions rooted my sense of familiarity and comfort in every corner of my mind. Hong Kong is a place where everyone seems caught up in a rush, as if the pulse of life beats so strongly that it might just exhaust itself. The streets are perpetually crowded, the metro always packed, and even the lifts of buildings are no exception. Lunch breaks are a hurried affair, with people hastily wolfing down takeaway meals in nearby parks within ten minutes. To understand, one need only a glance at the density packed metro map of Hong Kong, where 179 stations are squeezed into every nook and cranny of the city. My hometown is a far cry from the serene, close-knit ambiance typically associated with people’s concept of ‘home’. 

For all the years I spent at home, I longed to escape the frenetic pace of city life. Whenever summer rolled around, I would gather my friends and escaped to nearby beaches for a much-needed break. Whether it was swimming in the ocean, sipping lemon iced tea at a local cafe, or hiking through hillsides, these moments in nature provided the relaxation away from the restlessness of the concrete jungle. This pursuit of peaceful, hidden sanctuary within the metropolitan became my concept of home – a place where I could find a sense of belonging amidst the chaos. It was a feeling of comfort born from the busyness of the exterior, yet grounded in the tranquillity of the interior, where I could truly rest my mind and body. I often found myself wondering what it would be like to live in a town entirely removed from city living. 

This is a major reason why I decided to come to St Andrews. Alone, with my 22 kg luggage and after enduring a 13-hour flight, I thought I had finally found my sanctuary. It’s remarkable how, by simply moving abroad and crossing borders, my perception of the provisional environment, of what I had taken for absolute, have changed completely. 

St Andrews truly is a breath-taking and enchanting place. Its beaches, costal paths, and botanical garden paint a picture of beauty reminiscent of artworks I have only seen in museums. Despite the occasional bouts of miserable weather, with rain and winds sweeping through, it remains a serene and captivating small town nestled along the North Sea Bay. I can still remember my early days in Sallies, where the chirping of birds at 6am often woke me up in early morning, much to my annoyance. Yet, St Andrews has been so lovely and charming, celebrating its traditions, history and nature splendour with vibrancy. The unfamiliarity of it all gave me the sensation that my boundaries had burst, and I was expanding. Or, perhaps more accurately, my idea of ‘home’ was expanding. St Andrews made me realise that there are fragments of the world waiting to be discovered, pieces of a puzzle I could gather. 

However, a part of me still remains tied to my hometown. I find myself occasionally lamenting the emptiness of St Andrews – the absence of shopping malls, street vendors, or even McDonalds. At times, the quietness of St Andrews, particularly during term breaks, feels overwhelming, and I can’t help but long for the comforts of home. It’s ironic that now, after seeking solace in nature to escape the urban jungle, I find myself seeking traces of city life within the natural serenity of St Andrews. 

Is this irony, or am I simply being too greedy in my longing for both worlds? And if so, what truly defines the feeling of home? These are the questions that have echoed in my mind, yet I still haven’t found the answer. But what I do know is that one cannot live without the tranquillity of nature, just as one cannot live without the vibrant energy of community. Perhaps, what is most important is not which one we prefer, but how we integrate both worlds into our lives, building a sustainable bridge connecting the two sides of earth. It is the coexistence of these contrasting elements that enriches our experiences and refresh our senses. Home is not merely a physical place, but a dynamic intersection of memories, aspirations and connections – a place where we find balance amidst the chaos of life.