In 2012, when I first abandoned the corporate world, I had a grand plan of traveling around Southeast Asia for a loooong time. 6 months, maybe? Or a year? “Easy,” I thought. SEAsia is cheap, and although the culture is so far from ours, it wouldn’t really be too far from the boundaries of my comfort zone. They’re our neighbors, after all.
That trip lasted one month. HAHAHA. So much for “long term.”
What happened? I realized that I get homesick so easily.
Week 1: Lezzdothis!
Week 2: Woohoo! I can do this forevah!
Week 3: I kinda miss my bed. And homecooked meals.
Week 4: I can’t wait to go home!!!
I enjoyed the trip all the way through, but there was a part of me that always longed for home. I thought it was some sort of birth pain. It was my first time traveling alone. Maybe that was it.
But every time I tried to do it again, the same thing happened. After a month or two, I would go back home and stay even just for a night and off I go again, recharged and all.
It got more difficult when my 2nd nephew was born. When there’s a kid in the family, it’s so hard to leave. The saddest moment for me was when I arrived from a Turkey-Morocco-UAE trip and the baby couldn’t recognize me anymore. Since then, I would always find myself homeward after 1-2 months.
My most recent trip is a personal record. But I think that’s my limit. Haha. One day longer and I’ll lose my mind.
That’s why I have a lot of respect for long-term travelers. It was something that I have always wanted to do, but failed each time I made an attempt. I wrestled with it for years. I wanted to be like my travel blogging idols, wired for adventure, wandering forever.
But it’s just not for me.
(And it feels good to finally accept that.)