No place like home?

It is Italy?

It’s an old joke (with a hint of truth) among my friends but the mere thought of a place has me excited – mention Mongolia and I’m already looking up the monthly rent for a centrally located, fully furnished yurt. As well as finding travel exciting I also enjoy the challenges of setting up in a new place – of putting myself in a situation where I have no job, no place to live and no friends and getting on with it.  There's always a sense of triumph after a hard few months when I stop and realise that I’ve done it.  But it’s the staying that always proves the problem.  Wherever I have travelled I’ve always tried to imagine what it would be like to live there and what kind of life I would make.  I’m drawn to so many places; I can see myself living on a sleepy Hong Kong island like Cheung Chau and commuting to the main island for work, drinking in the many bars of the mid levels and exploring the down and earthy Mongkok.  In Buenos Aires I’d be living in the bohemian suburbs of Palermo or San Telmo, wondering the many junk yards, frequenting melongas and seeing a therapist (when in Rome and all.)  In Japan I’m split between  Tokyo – where I would choose to make home in the punky Koenji or the small mountain town of Koya San where there isn’t too much to do beyond enjoying the gorgeous mountain surrounds.  There aren’t many places that I have visited that I couldn’t see myself in -Brisbane being the one that comes to mind.  For the last few years life for me has been full of travels to far off and largely wonderful places and as much as I have loved travelling (and still do) now I'm yearning for home, a place to put down some roots. But just what is a home and in my case where the hell is it?  My family are in the UK my closest friends are largely in Australia and I’m now living and working in Italy. 

The Indian term for a mixture of spices used in cooking is masala and in many ways that’s how I see myself, a little of this and a bit of that.  Many of the Italians I meet ask me what am I?  British, Indian, Australian and if I’m honest I’m not sure myself.  I grew up in the UK but have spent all of my adult life in other countries.  The majority of the last twelve years have been in Australia and there is an easy friendliness to Australia that I connect with.  Now I’m living in Italy and even though I love my time here I suspect that I want the world to function a bit too much to be Italian.  While I feel very at home here in Treviso and Melbourne has a big piece of my heart the one place I don’t feel connected to is where I grew up.  Not that it’s a terrible place – it isn’t.  I love to visit the galleries of London, and the Lake District is a gorgeous part of the world, but aside from dearly missed family, I simply don’t feel connected to the place anymore.  Of the things that define who you are very few are British for me:  my favourite bands are Australian, authors are Japanese and American, hell I even consider Vegemite the superior yeast extract.  Last night a Venetian chum pulled my date aside and said “she’s Venetian” (although that could be down to the fact I like a drink.)   

Or is it Australia?

My recent return trip to Melbourne and subsequent return to Treviso has brought all this into focus.  Stepping off the plane into a steamy Melbourne Christmas morning was like walking into the biggest bear hug from a trusted friend.  I realised how emotionally difficult I have found it in Treviso not being able to just go and see an old friend when times have been hard or I’ve needed someone to tell me to get over myself.  Staying in my old local and catching up with much missed friends, eating favourite foods and walking familiar streets brought home to me what a special place Melbourne is and how ridiculously good life there is.  My favourite band, the rather wonderful Blackeyed Susans are just starting their round of summer gigs and I would give anything just to sit in a bar with a coldie listening to Rob Snarski sing those great songs.  I spent a morning on a glorious Sydney beach with two close friends and their little boys.  I first met Lucas and Robbie when they were just hours old and it’s been a joy to watch them grow, develop personalities and explore the world.  In the ten months I’ve been away they’ve grown so much that I’m sad I’ve missed it and I’ve come to realise just how much I love those little guys.  My send off was so bittersweet that I began to wonder if I would ever make such lasting friendships in Italy.  Getting off the plane at Marco Polo airport after 28 hours of transit and breaking the cardinal rule of not getting on a plane after a few drinks I was feeling tired and a bit fragile.  Spaced out and waiting for the bus to I was trying to come to terms with the sudden time and temperature change when I noticed an Italian staring at me.  Just as I was preparing my most withering what’s your problem look I realised it was I who was just back from Xmas adventures himself.  I shepherded me back to Treviso where it was straight off to Ts birthday party and into my Italian life.  Back in the beauty of Italy, in my little apartment, seeing work colleges and friends, and sipping a spritz this place also feels right.     

I really just want to sit on the stoop and talk to Oscar

There is one place I really want to live and know I could call home but seeing as I’ve never found a way to get to Sesame Street I’m going to have to come up with plan b.  I wonder why I find this decision so difficult – I think it is partly because it seems so permanent and  I’m not sure if I believe in permanence anymore, all too often in my life things I have trusted and thought secure have fallen away to reveal themselves to be nothing more than thin air.  The older I get and the more places I see it gets harder to define exactly what home is. Is it a feeling or people rather than a place? With no real commitments or ties the world really is my oyster.   For all of my adult life I have been trying to negotiate this and it’s a long time to feel pulled in different directions, whether it’s just my soul getting a bit weary or maybe I’m tired of floating through the world but now I want to call a place home.