I'm not homesick at all... sorry, people at home.
For a start, I don't have a place I identify as 'home' - every place I've ever lived in England or Scotland now presumably has other people living in it (or is hopefully demolished in a couple of cases). And when I think of the countries themselves, the only sickness I feel is being sick of them, rather than longing to return. As well as memories of chip shop batter, that makes me feel a bit sick too.
But weirdly, I've recently started to feel sad pangs of longing for Italy of all places.
Why Italy?
I know, weird isn't it? I was only there for a couple of weeks, but I wrote a travel article about Venice last week, and typing words like 'Rialto' and 'San Marco' brought back a flood of images and feelings.
Did I really only spend five days in Venice? Wow, I really didn't blog so obsessively back then.
As the first stop on my travels and my new life, those five days naturally seemed longer. Even zanier, it seems I only spent four days in Florence and three in Naples (I didn't even go into Naples), before I headed to the disappointment of Greece, which I feel no nostalgia for whatsoever.
Thanks to my obsessive pre-booking of accommodation and trains a few weeks before (I stopped doing this immediately after), I didn't give myself time to take detours to places like Verona, Pisa and the Tuscan countryside that would have enriched my Italian experience even more. I still think I made the right decision by not bothering with Rome though: I wanted fond memories.
Deconstruction time again
As brilliant as Italy is, it's probably the psychology of this country being the first setting of my new life that's more at play here.
I'm not sure what I could be missing from those days though - I'm still doing the same thing I was back then, working a couple of hours a day and spending the rest of the time wandering around or doing stuff. I'm just a lot more experienced and level-headed now (yeah right - did you read this?)
I haven't got bored or disillusioned with travelling in the slightest - if anything, things keep getting better and I'm happier now. But I guess there is some unique, temporary glow that comes from leaving your job and boring life behind and setting out into the unknown.
I experienced this glow first and brightest when I arrived at university, then three years later when I moved to Edinburgh and started my working life (a little dulled by the end of a relationship, lack of money and unemployment gloom). So hopefully I'll feel it again in two years and three months' time when I'm scheduled to begin the next of my self-imposed three-year cycles (maybe that's where the teaching will come in?)
Dave up the Scott Monument, Edinburgh, in a previous life
Will things ever be this good again? If I have one worry, it's that this boundless freedom will one day be compromised and I'll feel nostalgic for now. God, I hope I don't have kids. What are we on, eight months and six days since I set off? Those first travel babies could start popping out any day now...
