Where am I?
Why am I here?
What’s my purpose?
…the question we all ask ourselves time and time and time [and more times] again!
The world spins no matter where we are, and it goes on spinning whether we are onboard or not.
So, does it really matter where we are?
Does it really matter who we are?
Or what we are doing?
I’ve been lost in the world for over a decade and I am daily reminded how beautiful this planet is and awed by her residents!
I’ve been fortunate enough to visit countries I’ve never heard of and have washed up on shores most people only dream about.
And even though I normally travel alone, I’ve been lucky enough to still fill my hug quota because I always seem to land in the midst of genuinely superlative souls.
But, while gypsy-ism is rather epic, the years of homeless vagabonding sometimes take their toll.
You keep having to find new sunrise and sunset spots.
You are constantly meeting legendary people and having to say goodbye because you are moving in different directions
Your friends and family are scattered in the far reaches of the Earth.
And when you feel homesick, you can’t simply hop a plane to go home because you haven’t got one…
2019 was a tough year.
I broke both physically and mentally.
After seven years of pure summer, I finally had my winter.
Brokenness was a difficult chapter of my life.
Transforming from a self-sufficient, independent nomad into a person who can’t cross a room unaided, let alone make a cup of coffee, was infuriating!
When I need to let off steam or heal a hangover, I go for a run.
I had to learn to deal with life’s frustrations mentally.
It’s not always healthy to run.
(Trust me, that’s how I broke my hip)
Fortunately, I have good friends and family who carried me through.
(And despite my brokenness I managed to acquire some new ones too!)
And seasons change. You can’t have spring without first enduring winter!
(Unless, like me, you tend to follow the sun)
My epic American adventures at the end of last year reminded me why I love to travel.
The legendary-ness of family and friends in the Netherlands reminded me that I’m exceptionally rich in humans. (In fact, I’m probably God’s favourite.)
But I woke up in Portugal.
It was an unplanned and uncalculated trip.
A last-minute decision.
I fell in love with this country as soon as I crossed the border back in 2018.
It’s hard to say why some places feel like home,
It’s hard to explain why I wanted to live here.
I returned now to see if it still holds the same magic.
From the first touchdown in Porto, a month ago, I have felt that same strange sentiment.
… you know, that peace you get when you suntan naked in your back garden.
… the ability you have to sing embarrassing songs at the top of your voice.
… the feeling that all the land is your backgarden and every person you meet is some sort of distant family member.
I’ve been surrounded by wonderful humans who have hosted and dined and danced and drunk and discussed everything with me. Kindred souls.
And as I have hitch hiked south, it has been like every minute has been pre-planned.
(Even if there was a lot of patiently standing around in the rain)
Every person I have met has taught me something and pointed me in the right direction.
I’ve been dwelling in a sort of euphoria, blown away by the kindness of strangers!
I lay curled up in my treehouse by the beach the other day and couldn’t sleep.
I didn’t deserve to be there.
I didn’t earn any of the goodness that has flooded my life.
I had no idea where I was, or how I was lucky enough to be there.
I closed my eyes and cried.
Tears of joy.
I was lost.
And sometimes it’s okay to be lost.
When you jump into the unknown without a safety net, you have to learn to fly.
Travelling this exquisite country has confirmed my want to live here,
I still don’t know when, or where exactly, or what I will do for survival,
But sometimes you just have that feeling, you know where you are meant to be…
I need to revert back to my earlier questions though.
Does it really matter where we are?
Does it really matter what we do?
I’ve attempted a more settled life before and failed miserably,
But there comes a time when you want friends and family to visit you for a change.
There comes a time to build your own project rather than lending a hand to other people’s visions.
And there comes a time when you really need community.
I’m curious, what makes your home home?
Or what is lacking?
How did you decide where to live?
How did you decide what to do with your life?
Why are you where you are today?
I’m toying with the idea of a more settled existence
(I might even call it “leaning heavily”)
But how do you plant roots when you’re always drifting in the wind?
I’ve loved being lost, but how do I get found again?