there's no place like home

It was Sunday 25th September 2011. I was wide awake at 3am feeling a wee bit lost and confused. I had a good friend on the other end of the line kind enough to put my situation in to perspective and remind me of my deep down wish to travel and that there was nothing (besides my job) holding me back.

The next morning, before I had chance to change my mind, I handed in my notice. Shortly after I was booking flights to the destinations that had called me; Japan, India, Nepal and Argentina while preparing a spreadsheet complete with budgets, destinations, timings etc. By the 29th of October I was hosting my "not goodbye party" with my nearest and dearest of Sydney preparing for my next adventure.

I estimated that my life savings could afford me one year of travel; finally the belated gap year that I'd always dreamt of! I gave myself enough time to work out where I wanted to resettle after leaving Sydney behind, while also allowing some quality time to myself, to creative projects, to explore the world and devote to family.

Benchmarking the duration of my travels against my savings was both the stupidest and smartest commitment I made to myself. My savings incidentally have stretched a lot further (with the odd surprise top up through working as a teacher, giving therapies or cooking as a chef on a super-yacht) while life created 'money can't buy' experiences that I could have never even dreamed of... taking me further from Argentina on to Venezuela, Antigua, touring Europe, the USA and Colombia. And despite all these blessed opportunities to keep moving... I have wanted to stop and settle down at pretty much every country I have visited.

It's been 32 months that I've travelled solo. I've couch-surfed, hired rooms, rented apartments, slept on various surfaces in various conditions and in various moving vehicles. The outside world has taken me up mountains and across oceans. I have never felt so alive and yet I've never felt so alone. So vulnerable and yet so fearlessly empowered.

I've met all kinds of people. The faithless and the faithful. The open and the closed. The resentful and the forgiving. The obnoxious and the timid. The wealthy and the poor. Characters who's hearts bleed for something or someone that they lost or had to let go of.

This nomadic lady has filled her boots with the ups and downs that one endures in the world of the unknown pushing the boundaries of the human spirit. While also giving myself the space and time to heal and grow while nurturing the patience and love to care for another. I've also prayed a lot. I'm pretty sure I've saved lives and pretty sure, I've had mine saved a few times too.

I've laughed so much at the world's ridiculousness and cried more tears than I knew I had. I've been struck by panic in the rush of neon city chaos and felt the comforting relief of arriving at the station just in time for a long bumpy bus journey. I've got myself supremely lost and faced some unpleasant fears yet had enough giggles and light hearted experiences to lift me out of them. I've been gravely disappointed by unconscious behaviour yet filled with joy at another's sincere generosity. I've felt abandoned to the core and loved to the max. Blimey has it been intense; the wrinkles and the scars do enough of the talking.

Last week I finally ran out of travel savings just as I arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina. As I neared the end of the savings bucket I realised all my insecurities tied up in money. While I recognise it as a form of energy, there's so much conditioning we can have around capital and I'm glad I allowed myself to go there and wonder on my own worth along with it. Of course if I wanted to make money, with the skills and experience I have I could get a paid job easily, but I wanted to know this feeling and stick to my promise to keep going until I ran out. This feeling of not being able to afford to do what I want to do and humbly accept it. To live on the bare minimum and to swallow my pride in accepting the hospitality of another. To feel supremely insecure and take full responsibility for it. And of course to finally reach the end of this chapter of my life and arrive independently with my marbles intact.

The concept of home has been much food for thought along the way. Is it a matter of having walls to decorate or friends to see? Is it my family? Is it a country that speaks my language? Or is it the person(s) I am in love with? The world has shown me so many homes and I must admit the one I have loved the most, besides nature, was that of the poorest family I stayed with in a small village in the Himalayas of India. Perhaps it was their humility and acceptance that I was so moved by, their ability to live simply and so connected to the land and their welcome, love and support for one another and their community.

So I turn 30 this year. I left England when I was 22 and hit the road after a break up at 26. These years have been the most defining and remarkable collection of moments of my life which I'll continue to be grateful for in many years to come. And it's also quite plain to see that they've also been the most reflective time of my life... Sorry about that readers! Yet the greatest realisation of this long winded tour has got to be; as much as the journey is the destination - there's no place like home. 

Where is that exactly? Well for me it's a place of being and personally, a journey to go on that no-one else can do for you and at times may require strength, courage and grace.