I want to go home!

This trip is somehow different from my previous ones. Of course, it is longer, it is further. But that alone is not what I mean, it is more than the outwardly obvious. It is more of a feeling. I begin to grasp it for the first time when I have a conversation with a fellow traveler from the group who has been on the road for 6 months, and I ask: 'Do you ever feel homesick?'

'No, never. On the contrary, I could keep going forever. When I’m somewhere in the middle of nowhere, then I am free. I absolutely do not want to go home; there’s nothing I look forward to.'

That hits me hard. Because I know what that feels like; I know how incredibly tough and dreadful that feeling is. And I keep thinking about it, remembering how I felt back then, and I wonder what is so different now. Until I eventually get the thought: It’s the direction. She wanted to get away from home. I wanted to go to another place.

When I’ve traveled so far alone before, I wanted to get away from. Away from work, away from a fight, away from obligations, ultimately probably away from myself, which does not work, because no matter how light the baggage is: You always carry yourself and the many accompanying voices with you. Of course, you often can’t hear yourself as clearly, especially at first when everything is new, loud, and exciting. That’s why the away-from feeling is also important, to take a breath, to gather strength, to get distracted. But if you only do that, if you do it unconsciously or for too long, it’s really just running away and playing hide-and-seek with yourself where you always end up losing.

I have arrived in Dunedin, the 'Edinburgh of New Zealand.' The journey took much longer than indicated because I had to take many breaks due to my cold and I took a detour to enjoy this beautiful stretch between Wanaka and Queenstown. I believe this is one of my favorite viewpoints. When I reach Dunedin, it is already 4 PM, and I feel as if I have driven over myself as well. More than a small walk through the city is all I can manage, but to be honest, that’s enough for me. Because I expected a small, cute coastal town; the hours I spend at the traffic lights feel more like a big city. Then I cook an elaborate vegetable sauce (almost like Mom’s, only she would find the carrots too hard) and continue reading my book while eating. The next day it rains, and I am so glad, snuggling back with a hot chocolate in my bed (almost like mine, only it’s colder here). And I feel: I want to go home. So, do I now also want to get away?

But: I do not feel it as a pain, as an unbearable longing (there are indeed moments like that occasionally, but somehow that’s part of solo traveling for me), but rather as a tingling and exhausted anticipation. Yes, I am looking forward to home. Of course, I can see things here in New Zealand that I do not have at home. And actually, I do not want to leave here. It is not a feeling of wanting to escape. It is a feeling of moving towards. And of course, I would like to have both.

I see the sea lions kissing each other in their sleep at Sandfly Beach and look forward to kisses and hugs from my dear ones at home. I see these little cute blue penguins waddling out of the sea and running over each other, and I look forward to the neighbor's cat running towards me, sometimes stumbling over its feet in excitement. I see the steepest street in the world and look forward to the street that leads down from my apartment, not quite so steep, towards the S-Bahn or through the marketplace to my favorite colleague-friend. I see breakfast in front of me in this small vegetarian café and look forward to a coffee & cake chat at Ellis with another colleague-friend. I admire the street art in Dunedin and look forward to snippets of drawing and painting and writing at my kitchen table. I observe the animated conversations in the hostel kitchen and look forward to long, intense discussions on the couch with wine, chocolate, and whatever else is there. I see the beautiful train station and look forward to biking to Grafing train station, to then go to sports or dear friends. I see my rental car, in which I half-live, and can hardly wait to spend a week again in a rooftop tent by Lake Garda. I climb on the Moeraki Boulders and look forward to bouldering sessions with one, two, many people, cappuccino afterward, and (de)motivational cheering remarks in between. I see two children in school uniforms and - yes - look forward to 'my' school. I dance at the viewpoint and by the sea and look forward to dancing with poles, with the floor, and with other people. I look forward so much that sometimes I want to go home right away, but at the same time also not to leave here, from this other world, which is so full of beauty that my heart almost overflows.

I have understood, and it makes me so grateful: This trip is a journey of moving towards. A journey to New Zealand, towards a long-cherished goal, towards all these beautiful places, wonderful encounters, towards new friends, towards adventures, and most importantly, towards myself: My courage, my pride, my loneliness, my self, my place, my life. Towards eternal memories.

I am so thankful and happy that I can say with all my heart today: I know how it felt to only want to get away. But it is no longer like that. I do not want to leave here, but I want to go home (emphasis on the second word)! Because that shows me how much I love my life. And all of you who are part of it ❤️