Back Home… Wherever That May Be.

After 7 months on the road, we are back in Belgium. Initially, I wrote "back home", but home has become such a fluid concept over the last few years.

I have always been very lucky to live in beautiful homes amongst family and dear friends. That is all you could wish for... right?

But for a couple of years now, I developed some sort of bug, that now lives comfortably in the back of my mind. Back then, however, it scared the hell out of me. It constantly pointed me to the fact that somehow, I was missing out. There was a part of me, a longing lingering undiscovered, and I was terrified of exploring it. I knew it would be like opening Pandora’s box - and there would be no way back.

So, I resisted and decorated my life in the best way possible. I went to work 5 times a week, turned my bedroom into a green tunnel of books and magic, and frequently indulged in long, hot bath sessions with a good book: In other words, I did everything I could to adjust to life as we know it. And hope it would be enough.

But all around me, friends and acquaintances made personal progress. Whether that included starting a family, building a business and a house, or focusing on their careers: They made a choice. And I was envious: I wanted to choose, too.

So, I chose myself. Being 25 at the time, it was about time to wake up that part of myself that I did not dare stir. And that might have been the biggest step I ever took in my life. Filled with hope, excitement, gratitude, fears, and a fast-beating heart - I jumped. After that, anything was possible now.

Time to say my goodbyes, time to leave home behind.

And that is how I dove into the dreadful, intrinsic system of permits and passports, covid-laws and international flights. My personal belongings were boxed up and the city was notified of my absence. I was free.

A couple of weeks later, I set foot on the Pacific Crest Trail in Washington. At last, I knew and understood: This was it.

Feelings of infinite happiness, of belonging. Finally, I had found home. Moreover, I would find someone whose home it was, too. And together, we climbed hills, swam in cold lakes, and swatted pesky mosquitos. It was our home now.

Our home changed every night: From campsites in the deep forests of Washington, to sleeping under the stars in Oregon parks and sandy beaches on the Oregon Coast Trail. From Walmart parking lots, state park campgrounds and hot springs to long stretches of desert and beautiful BLM lands. Whether we slept amongst desert, sand, rock, or trees: I never felt more at home.

After several months of adventuring, I took the plane back to Belgium. Back home? Not entirely. I remember a heavy feeling upon returning to my home country, once so safe and comfortable. I know the rules, the language, the public transport, the tv shows, our many failures, and numerous benefits. I know every little piece of the puzzle that is my little country, and I hold it dear. And yet, returning felt like a daunting task. It also meant separation from Ryan, who stayed behind in the U.S.

That winter, I worked for 4 months in a Red Cross refugee center. I missed my partner in crime and I missed that part of myself that I finally allowed to be free. But as Simon & Garfunkel once sang, April Come She Will…

And April was the month when I sold half of my stuff, put the other half in boxes again, and hopped back on a plane across the ocean. The plan was that there was no plan.

Ryan picked me up in the airport of Las Vegas. Customs was not exactly happy upon my arrival: "No job? No home? No plans? Well, missy...What do you think you are doing?" My point exactly. After some interrogation, they finally let me enter the United States. And off we went.

Now, seven months later, we are back in Belgium! Back home? Who knows. We now know; Home is quite a fluid concept. We are moving into a beautiful house in Bruges with a wonderful roommate. A whole new adventure for Ryan and myself: Living domesticated lives for a bit! We swap catholes for a flushing toilet and a climbing crash pad for a bed. Living here offers us a place to rest, process the adventures of the past year, and make plans for the future... Wherever that may be.

Whether it is a mountain cabin, a lakeshore campground, a Walmart parking lot, the trunk of a car, a cheap motel 6, or a house in Bruges - I now know:

“… when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

(Herman Hesse in Bäume: Betrachtungen und Gedichte)