Returning Home from a Chosen Home

A personal story about emigration, integration, motherhood, homesickness, and what it means to return from a country that offered security but never fully became home.

Author: Bernadett Virág Kolozsvári

Twelve years ago, I moved to Vorarlberg, Austria. Some may wonder why I call it my “chosen” home when, in reality, I did not truly choose it. The answer is simple: I moved for love. My partner at the time wanted better opportunities, and Vorarlberg offered us the chance to start our lives again. I already spoke German, and living abroad was not completely new to me, as I had previously spent a year in Germany.

But Vorarlberg was different. During the twelve years I spent there, my life took root. At first, I often felt that I was Hungarian and that perhaps I should be at home. But back then, love, the excitement of starting over, and the belief that I was moving towards a better life pushed that feeling into the background.

In the world of work, however, I soon realised that life abroad is not always what it seems from the outside. I often felt that I was not in the right place: I was capable of more, yet I was being taken advantage of. At one of my workplaces, there was even a police inspection because not everything was in order with the employment registration. Austria is not perfect either, and nothing is handed to you for free. Over the past twelve years, I changed jobs many times. I was searching for my place, for where I would be truly valued and where I could move forward. In the end, all these changes worked to my advantage: I was persistent, I learned, I adapted, and several times I managed to progress.

Because of my origin, however, I did not experience disadvantage or hatred. Rather, I encountered curiosity and appreciation. People often praised me for speaking German well, or found it endearing when I used the local dialect. There are many immigrants in Vorarlberg, so perhaps people are more used to different backgrounds living together. Of course, this is only my personal experience, not everyone’s.

Just as I had done earlier in Germany, I integrated quite quickly in Austria as well. I made friendships, some of which have lasted to this day. This probably also has to do with the fact that I connect with people easily and consider myself a friendly and adaptable person.

Still, homesickness was always there. After every visit to Hungary, it was difficult to leave again. Many times, tears rolled down my face at the beginning of the journey back, especially after my child was born. I knew that my family would not see my child again for months, and that they would miss moments that can never be brought back: first words, first movements, celebrations, and the small everyday miracles. At those moments, my heart always broke for Hungary and for my family.

In recent years, I increasingly felt as if I were returning to a kind of invisible prison. I was free, yet bound by duty, work, my familiar Austrian life and the security I had built around myself.

Over the years, I experienced what the Austrian healthcare system is like, what it means to look for housing, and what it is like to return to work after giving birth. Many times, I felt as if I were living in Hungary, only under better conditions. The hospital was clean, people were kind, and in administration I less often felt talked down to. The public atmosphere was different as well. In Austria, I experienced less of the kind of political pressure and enemy-focused public discourse that is often so visible in Hungary. I believe a great deal depends on who leads a country, what kind of atmosphere they create, and what conditions people have to live in.

I do not want to idealise Austria. It is not a fairytale. Here too, one has to fight for everything one wants to achieve. There are poor people, children’s homes, corruption and crime here as well. The difference lies more in the scale, in how things function, and in how exposed people feel when facing the system.

I also experienced disappointments. In Austria too, there were times when I felt that the social system had failed me. Still, I believe that what I went through here would have been much harder for me to manage at home. Too much has happened to me to tell everything in one article, but I hope I will have the chance to continue this story.

And yet now I feel that Hungary has been given a new opportunity and with it, so have I and my family. For the moment, however, Austria still wins this comparison. I feel this not only based on my own experiences, but also because more and more new Hungarian women are joining the Facebook group I founded. It seems that many people are still looking in Austria for the security and predictability they cannot find at home.

For us, however, a turning point has arrived.

Auf Wiedersehen, Austria!
Welcome back, Hungary!

At last, I can try again at home. I can return to my roots, to the place where I have always belonged. And this time, not alone, but with my family.

Cover photo credit: Bernadett Virág Kolozsvári

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