You can never go home again.

That's what I thought as I was walking along the streets in dear old Melbourne. There were the tastes of old haunts as we went joint to joint trying old dishes that we used to enjoy as a student. There was Minotaur, a comic bookstore that I frequented when I was living here, and Hobby Japan, where the videotapes with the simple white labels with simple black fonts have been replaced by DVDs. There are trams that spark as they traverse along set lines, newly refurbished and sparkling, with air conditioned carriages and plush seats. But it's no longer the home that I remember.

Like Singapore almost 10 years ago, it has become alien. And with that, alienation. It's true what they say about home and returning. You never really return. And it's not because home changes. But it's because you do. One never crosses the same river twice and even if time stood still, you wouldn't be the same. I think that's what I feel now. I look at the world that I left as a student and I don't really recognise it. The landmarks are there albeit changed in a small way. But it's not the change in the world that I see. It's the lens through which I see. My eyes have changed.

I never realise how big a change it is until I see what I used to see through the changed eyes. And then the brain registers that there is change.

There has been a big change. But despite that, it's been more and more evident to me as the days have progressed that this is more home than home is. Despite the stupidity of the people, the irresponsiblity of the media and the insanity of tram inspectors, I still like it here.

I've been here 5 days and life is good.