Home has never meant for me what it does for others. From the age of 12, I moved every two years so I never developed a strong connection to any of the places I lived. Even in the house where I spend the most of my time now, I boast that I could have all of my things packed and ready to move in two hours.
It’s not to say I don’t enjoy the comforts of being home; it’s just that my comfort is not dependent on a single place with which I’m familiar so much as a feeling with which I’m familiar. The feelings of home for me are generated by experiences like cooking, socializing, reading, gardening, and even chores.
None of those activities has to be done at a specific place. I spent the last few months traveling between Vancouver and San Francisco staying in hotels, AirBnbs, and on friends’ couches. No matter the location, if you come across me, you’ll find me relaxed and comfortable.
While visiting friends, I most enjoy cooking together. It is, without question, a far greater connecting experience than going out to a restaurant. It is an opportunity to work together, to be creative together, and to be open and personal in an environment where my host is most comfortable. This, in turn, creates comfort for me.
AirBnBs are another good opportunity to experience the comforts of home while traveling. Most hosts understand that you must suspend the normal familiarization process of meeting someone new because that person is only going to be around for a couple days. As a result, I find that connections are made quickly, and people are generally happy to share with you about themselves and their area. The same is true for homestays in other countries.
Still, home is not restricted to an edifice for me. As I said it is more about the familiarity of an experience. Right now, as I speed through the lush countryside of Malaysia on a train, it feels familiar. I recognize the endless fields of palm trees and the warm haze of a tropical humid afternoon from previous visits. The daily bustling of hundreds of people pulsing through a crowded marketplace in Asia is no less familiar to me than a leisurely stroll through a weekend community farmers’ market in the States. I’ve learned that comfort is derived from familiarity so the more I experience, the more everything becomes comfortable.
It’s been years since my first solo trip abroad, one which I aborted early due to feelings of homesickness. On occasion, people will ask me whether I get weary of traveling, but I can comfortably answer, “no”, because no matter where I am, I always feel at home.