I was born here. I grew up here. I met my wife here. And I left here almost three years ago.
“Here” is Vancouver, British Columbia (,Canada, Earth, the Milky Way, the universe). In my three years away, I traveled in Europe by campervan, rode the Trans-Siberian rails across Russia and Mongolia, wandered around China, and explored Vietnam. Yvonne and I set up shop in Melbourne, got proper jobs, drank lots of wonderful coffee, and just…lived. For two years to be exact. We then spent five weeks cycling around Cuba prior to the big return.
Sunset Beach and the Olympic spotlights
Before leaving Australia, I was anxious to return to the city I called home for 30 years. What awaited me? What had changed? What hadn’t changed? (Previous experience led me to believe that nothing changes — which ultimately turned out to be true.) Most importantly, what will I feel?
First of all, I felt disoriented. Disturbingly disoriented. I know this place, or, I should know this place. Like the back of my hand, I should know this place. But I didn’t. I had forgotten. The street names downtown were all the same, but I couldn’t remember which way they ran. The houses and buildings looked familiar, yet seemed strange. I remember being driven home from the airport at night, staring out the passenger side window, gawking at the passing city like an awestruck child, reflections of my past moving like a slideshow across the glass.
We’ve always maintained that in all likelihood, we wouldn’t again live in Vancouver. But in my heart, I always held on to the notion of one day returning and strolling the beaches of Kitsilano on a daily basis again. Coming home, I just needed to make sure. One way or the other. I was a bit surprised at my reaction because, in all honesty, I thought nostalgia would have overwhelmed me and left me longing to go apartment hunting for an ocean view flat. That didn’t happen at all. Like how a protégé must feel after surpassing his mentor, I felt like I’d outgrown Vancouver.
This isn’t to say that I don’t love this city. I do. And it will always be my ‘home’. The Vancouver Canucks will always be my hockey team and I will forever be proud of the amazing things Canada did in the 2010 Olympics here. Friendships and family will remain, and I will take comfort in knowing that we will always be welcomed.
But it’s time to make a new home. The only question that remains is, where?
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Enjoyed this, Carlo. I’ve never been away from “home” for so long, so technically I can’t identify…but somehow I do. And it’s great that you’re feeling sure of yourself and your decisions. Very happy post.
I think that might be the most exciting question ever.
Home is such a vague concept. It’s hard to define what it means.
Really enjoyed this too. Like Hal said, it’s a wonderful feeling being sure and confident in the decisions you make in life.
Home is certainly wherever Yvonne is.
Thanks for the comments! As they say, home is where the heart is, right? I suppose that could mean anything really, doesn’t have to be tied to a physical location. Although I do think that one day it will. For me, Melbourne is the closest and if I could go back I would (with the ability to work that is…unless I can figure out how to make a decent living writing!).
I love traveling, but a big part of me is aching to settle down a bit. I’m pretty sick of chasing boxes around the world, the shipments we’ve made prior to traveling. Cuz the truth is, we have stuff. And we need a place for this stuff.
The ideal for me would be to have a base where we can take off from and return to. Right now we are untethered. Hmph. I don’t think I realized all this until I started typing.
But then again, I’m forever changing my mind.
Home is where the heart is. Nice post, Carlo.
Eeep. I’m a month behind. But I just got to reading this post, and I really enjoyed it. I kind of feel that way about Chicago, except I don’t think I’ll EVER outgrow it.
Thanks for popping in Adam!