{"id":11639,"date":"2018-08-06T10:00:39","date_gmt":"2018-08-06T14:00:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theprofessionalhobo.com\/?p=11639"},"modified":"2024-06-18T07:35:57","modified_gmt":"2024-06-18T11:35:57","slug":"my-epic-search-for-a-home-base","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theprofessionalhobo.com\/my-epic-search-for-a-home-base\/","title":{"rendered":"My (Epic?) Search for a Home Base"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\u201cHe wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.\u201d<\/em> <\/p>\n– From the novel American Gods<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In my last 12 years of being proverbially homeless, I’ve had a few home bases along the way, namely in Australia<\/a> (1.5 years, 2008\/09), Grenada<\/a> (2 years, 2011\/12\/13), and Peru<\/a> (2 years, 2014\/15\/16).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In all cases, these home bases provided a jumping off \u2013 and landing \u2013 point for all kinds of travel adventures, in addition to an in-depth exploration of my stomping grounds of choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I might even go so far as to say that the years I had a place to return to, were, for various reasons, the best years of my travels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It has been over two years since I vacated my last home base in Peru, and I’m feeling the pinch. It’s time to search for a home base….and perhaps this time, one I can stay in for as long as I choose. Like, a real home. My <\/i>home. (Base).<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Here's<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

This post was originally published in 2018. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. I’ve also added an update circa 2022 at the end to reflect on this home base and how it fits into my digital nomad lifestyle<\/a>. <\/em>

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Mine, But Not Mine<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Last year I published a post about how Hollywood Florida is my (Kind of) Home Base. It’s a great location for travel to\/from South America (which I was doing a lot of at the time), and my friend there calls her spare bedroom \u201cNora’s room\u201d, her office space \u201cNora’s office\u201d, and the mango tree in the backyard \u201cNora’s mango tree\u201d. While I’m so grateful for my friend’s generosity in welcoming me into her home and her life, it came to my attention that even though I have a room\/office\/mango tree, they’re not really mine, nor will they truly ever be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither was my home in Peru truly mine, which was all mixed up with the apprenticeship I was doing; when it all fell apart<\/a>, I was bereft of many things, including my home (a home which I thought was going to be \u201cfor good\u201d, as I had been assured was the case).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My home in Grenada also wasn’t really mine; it was tied with my partner at the time and his daughter. It was a very complicated time in my life, and when we broke up in Panama<\/a>, I never returned to my \u201chome\u201d (or stuff!) in Grenada.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And while you could say that my place in Australia was more \u201cmine\u201d than any of the other home bases I’ve had so far, I simply wasn’t ready for a home base so early on in my full-time travel career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In all cases, my home base was in some way tied to another person; and when circumstances changed, I was the one who (by choice or otherwise) ended up taking a hike. (See also: My Sordid Attempts at Love on the Road<\/a>)<\/i><\/p>\n\n\n

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\"My
Standing above the house I called \u201chome\u201d in Peru for 2 years<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Too Much Traipsing<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

When I left Peru in 2016, I knew something had shifted in my full-time travel lifestyle. I was leaving a place I had called home, and I wanted to find another place to call home. While I hoped that Ecuador<\/a> might be \u201cit\u201d, it didn’t resonate, and after eight months, the complicated stack of paperwork required to stay longer sent me running. (I was still traumatized by the bureaucratic nightmare I encountered in applying for Peruvian residency; a process that was cut short before it was completed \u2013 for better or worse).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, the search for home went on the back burner and two months of house-sitting in Japan<\/a> happened. This was followed by eight more Asian countries in as many months. (I figured while I was already in Asia, I’d make the most of it).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time I landed in India in October of 2017, I was in trouble.<\/strong> I had been moving too fast for too long. Even my planned hiatus in Bali a month prior was thwarted by a spewing volcano prompting me to evacuate<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It created a perfect storm for my experience of India; a country they say is often a reflection of what’s going on inside of us at the time. In my case the reflection was harsh, despite at times a ridiculously lavish and heavenly set of outward circumstances. (See also: Heaven and Hell: Panchakarma as a Reflection of (My Time in) India<\/a>) <\/i><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next two months in Chiang Mai Thailand<\/a> were better, but by that point I was so completely burned out that I was suffering frequent migraines, inexplicable agonizing stomach pains, and more<\/strong>. (Here’s a video of the lovely apartment I rented<\/a> that brought me solace).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But, I had to leave Thailand regardless after two months (for visa purposes). After a month checking out expat life in Hoi An Vietnam<\/a>, I returned to another part of Thailand to undergo a dramatic detox program that I hoped would help. It may or may not have helped; either way it made for a great story: All Life is Suffering: A Month in Koh Phangan, Thailand<\/a>.<\/i>

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Australia Saved my Life<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

You read it right: Australia. I’ll bet you didn’t even know I was in Australia for six weeks earlier this year. That’s because I didn’t write about it. I didn’t even whisper about it on social media. Australia was solely and completely for me. <\/i><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stayed with some friends who offered me a room in their home and no obligations\/expectations other than to simply recharge my batteries. I did healing sessions three times a week, slept, ate great food, worked a bit, and very little else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In so doing, I also explored the depths of my misery to find out what was going on. Sure enough, it was about home (or my complete lack thereof). I believe that staying with these friends in Australia saved my life in that it got my health back on track, and helped me realize that I need to get a place of my own, where I can unwind from traveling, unpack my stuff, assimilate my experiences, have time to work on the ever-expanding list of projects I’m jazzed about, and \u2013 last but certainly not least \u2013 to recharge<\/i>.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Australia
Australia’s beautiful nurturing landscape, where I spent 6 weeks recovering from burnout<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Oh, Canada.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

When I left Toronto in 2006, I was pretty sure I’d never live there again. While Toronto’s familiarity is comforting, its mix of cultures is fascinating, and its arts culture is nourishing, there are other boxes I need ticked that a big city can’t do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh yeah, and then there’s winter. I don’t do winter<\/i>. I think I’ve proven this in the last 12 years of hemisphere-hopping when the weather turns. I grew up with winter. I know it. And I know I don’t like it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So with all these factors in play, over the years I discounted the possibility of living in Canada ever again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But somewhere in there, I also unwittingly discounted some criteria that has become increasingly important to me, like:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n