“If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”
This question is so hard, I was tempted to skip over it and find something new to write about because honestly, I don’t know where I want to live. I’ve spent a huge chunk of my life traveling – it seemed every three years or so, I was headed to a new apartment, town or state. And thanks to my new job, I’m in yet another new place, soaking up what life is like here. But already, I’m itching for the new year to come, for a new adventure to unfurl.
I really want to move to another city.
When I see this question, I think of permanence, of being settled and ready to put down roots. But I’m not used to that – whenever I got used to a place, my time there came to an end. Today, it’s something I’ve gotten used to, and routinely discuss with others.
“Oh. I’ve never had a home. We moved around a lot.” Something only other military brats can understand. Or people who grew up in unstable homes, where permanence seemed as far off as the moon.
So maybe I had this engrained in me; this wanderer habit, this desire to be a nomad. I would often feel bad that I couldn’t achieve the same life situations as others: finding that city that I adored, crafting a long-term relationship and setting ourselves up for marriage, selecting the ideal job that would keep us tucked away and happy for the next five years.
My life is the complete opposite of that.
So, where would I like to live? I’d love to live everywhere – a month or two in Morocco, a week or so in Portugal or a year in South Korea. I want to taste all the countries I can, while living by this quote:
“The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” – Saint Augustine
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30 Days of Blog Posting.
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