I once believed that “home” was a term coated in negativity. Out there — on the journey — was where life unfolded, filled with thrilling escapades, intriguing individuals, and limitless opportunities. No monotonous commutes, half-hour lunch periods, tedious meetings, or endless to-do lists crammed into a hurried weekend.
Why would anyone desire to be at home, the spot where routine appeared to drain your desire to thrive? It puzzled me.
My initial journey abroad — a getaway to Costa Rica — ignited my passion for travel. For all the stated reasons, I understood why “vacations” were so glorified in professional culture. They offered a freedom that sharply contrasted with the everyday corporate hustle.
Thus, when I finally resigned from my job, I embarked on an expedition to savor everything the world had in store for as long as my funds permitted.
Who could ever lose interest in life on the road?
Well, I did.
In time, I grew weary of being a full-time drifter. I yearned for a dependable circle of friends, consistent workouts, a bar that recognized me, a kitchen to prepare meals, and my own sleeping space.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that “home” wasn’t a negative term. It merely felt that way to a young, restless spirit who perceived adulthood as light-years away.
I came to realize what someone embarking on their journey with idealistic views about travel might not grasp: You can reach your limit. During my first trip abroad, after a year and a half, I hit a wall and chose to end my journey early. Then, years later, in 2013, I concluded that the nomadic lifestyle was no longer right for me and made the decision to cease full-time travel.
I declared it was time to mature. Time to settle down and transition from nomad to… whatever lay ahead.
However, the fascination of the road — and the busyness of working in travel — continually drew me back.
As the years passed, I oscillated between two realms: one where I travel, yearning for home, and another where I am home, yearning to venture out again.
There were instances when I wished for a clone so I could exist in both and fulfill my conflicting desires.
After all, you can’t — and shouldn’t — remain solely in one forever.
Because travel and home are synergistic forces, yin and yang. Without one, the other loses its appeal.
All travelers eventually encounter a limit, that instant when they look around and think, “I’m ready to settle down.” When and why that occurs is influenced by numerous factors, yet I have yet to meet a traveler who hasn’t had that experience. When I commenced my travels in my twenties, it took me years to feel that. Now, a couple of decades later, it happens after just a month.
To navigate life, the brain creates mental shortcuts to assist in processing information. It’s why we often take the same route to work daily — it’s simply easier, and it’s why you feel like “you could do it in your sleep.” If your brain had to devise a new path to work every day, it would wear itself out. These routines allow us to put much of life on autopilot, conserving our energy for work, relationships, emotions, thoughts, and more.
However, when you travel, you are relearning life skills daily. There are no mental shortcuts. It demands immense mental energy to find your way in the world anew each day, to repack your belongings, bid farewell to the person you met yesterday, and embark on navigating unknown territories, languages, and people as if you had never done so before.
It wears you out.
While a vacation serves as a temporary respite from life, long-term travel differs significantly. When traveling long-term (or constantly being on the go), there’s no break. You’re perpetually trying to make sense of things and continually disrupting your routine. Your travel battery depletes.
Yet just as the travel battery requires recharging, our “home” battery does as well.
While some individuals can adhere to the same routine their entire lives, most cannot. We find it dull. We crave a respite. After spending some time in one location, we yearn to disrupt the monotony of our daily habits. Work, commutes, chores… day after day, like ants marching onward.
Therefore, we set off to travel once more. We embark on an adventure, encounter new faces, savor new cuisines, and gain fresh experiences. Perhaps we learn, grow, and expand our identity. Maybe we’re away for a week or two or take a month off. Or we begin working remotely and spend months away. But ultimately our battery drains: we become weary, and then we return home again.