Arriving Home

I feel at home. Not fully, and not in the literal sense, but at least in the way that brings coziness, warmth, and reassurance.

The end of our travels draw near. With greater clarity, I now can say that I’ll be coming back to Australia around late-October with a high degree of confidence. That isn’t assured, though. There is plenty to still figure out. Plans to iron out. But nothing comparable in magnitude to the logistics of the past nine months. Because now, I’m gradually arriving home.

It has come in pieces. Earlier in the year, there was a period in which I has entirely alone, residing in Japan for—what felt like—the foreseeable future. Although it is a country I cherish deeply, once you leave the ski fields, Tōkyō, or Kyōto, Japan immediately becomes a far cry from Australia. If nothing else, because it was freezing cold. But I think the shape Japanese lives take, the culture, and the language—all of these elements are more foreign than many would anticipate from the outside. That isn’t to detract from my time in Japan, at all. There is a reason I spent three months there. But it took significant work.

Fast-forward to now, and I’m in Spain. I’m writing this from a terrace of my friend’s family home in Valencia. Her two dogs just arrived home. We leave tomorrow, but we’re in no particular rush to be anywhere. That’s been a consistent theme in August. Unhurried-ness. Hospitality. Ease. We’ve been staying in homes, not hotels. We stayed in homes in Vietnam, too. Home stays. But not as an actual part of that home.

We’ve been slowly collecting pieces of home since leaving Japan. In Shanghai, our first contact with family was profound, giving us much-needed perspective, comfort, and wide-ranging insight into China and beyond.

Then, the weather switched. Humidity became the norm. It was like a stormy Queensland summer. There were beaches. Mosquitoes, too. Not better per se, but certainly more akin to home.

When we met our friends in Vietnam, it was the first real joint travel of the year. It was a blast. Now, we’re at their houses. We’ve met siblings, parents, grandparents, and pets. For me, it has been my favourite time spent all year. I hope to be able to even try and repay the favour if they end up making it out to Australia in a few years post Medical exams.

From here, the fragments of home keep coming. Well, pilgrimage first. I feel the Camino de Santiago represents a fitting way to end our time alone, arriving full-circle to tie a bow on the curiosity that led me to the Kumano Kodo and this trip in the first place. But unlike that walk through the cold, largely abandoned Kii Peninsula, the Camino will be busy. Almost the opposite problem. We never were really alone, though, were we?

After Spain, the UK awaits. As do familiar faces and open arms. We’ll visit longtime friends in Cambridge, then see most of my Dad’s family in Edinburgh. Mary can reconnect with cousins there, too. By the time mid-September rolls around, my immediate family will be there.

Home came to be before I returned home. Past that point, we’ll have about a month to mess around with catching RyanAir flights around Europe, or perhaps enjoying some more solitude in the Scottish highlands instead. Either way, home will be just around the corner, both ahead, and in the rear-view.

Whilst I’ve spent very little time in my house over the past few years, I’ve always been surrounded by home more than I’ve appreciated. I feel that now, more than ever.