What it feels like to miss home..
Ever since I was younger, I’ve been someone that never wanted a normal job when I grew up. I longed to travel, to do something different each day and work anywhere but in a 9-5 office job..
I loved, and still do love where I was raised; a beautiful, safe and loving town an hour south of Melbourne on the beach, Mt Martha. In Summer, the crowds would grow and the tourists came, and in Winter, it became a cozy sanctuary with no one but locals. Being a lover of the surf, it was also an amazing place to learn, and then eventually keep coming back to as I grew up. Twenty minutes drive through the vineyards, and you’ve arrived at a coastline full of barren, uncrowded waves. To most people, the Melbournians, the city slickers as some say, this was heaven. But in my late teens and after I finished high school, when you then have the choice to do whatever you wanted, and move to wherever you wanted, I got the itch to get out of there, an itch to get ‘off the ninch’ (I think a few people my age living on the Peninsula will know this feeling!). I was sick of the familiarity, I craved change. I wanted warm weather, warm surf where I could ride my bike from my flat to the ocean, in my bikinis might I add. I wanted somewhere I could find more work, where more women surfed and there was a culture that appreciated that. I wanted the hippy vibe of Byron mixed with the opportunities of a city, all on my doorstep. And all of this want, made me develop a negative feeling towards where I was. Travelling to Uni nearly every day, for 3 years, to the city from the Peninsula, was really tough. And friends wondered why I didn’t move up there. It all came back to the fact that I needed to live near a beach, and have the surf at my reach whenever I wanted it. And it still stands like this (Hence why I came to Bali). This is kinda where my love hate relationship with Melbourne city came along. Spending at least 3 hours of the day staring out a window and memorising the stations on the Frankston line became utterly draining, and it was the dream of moving somewhere far away from all this, that kept me going.
You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Well, I can tell you that I’ve learnt a few things since moving to Bali and spending nearly 8 months here. My first year out from my degree, first year of full time work for myself, I’ve learnt that I always miss where I’m not. I never in a million years thought I would feel 'Homesick’ when all I wanted to do for a few years was move to somewhere warmer. And now, here I am, missing the familiarity of walking down the street, missing the textbook days of pure glass on Port Phillip Bay and fish and chips on the beach. And it’s not that I don’t have an amazing family and support at home, because they’re the ones I miss the most, it’s just strange to have this feeling of missing 'home’ when for so long you just wanted to get out. I’m not a settler either, that probably has a bit to do with it. I don’t like being in the same place for too long. If a surrounding starts getting familiar, then it becomes boring. Everyone’s telling me I’m not missing anything back home, but that’s just it. Right now, that 'anything' is what I’m missing. It’s like when you’re travelling and living out of a bag for a while and just want some routine and you start to miss home, you look forward to going home. It’s such a funny concept when it’s the best feeling ever jumping on a plane and heading off on your adventure. Don’t get me wrong, Bali is incredible and I’m sure I’ll be back next year, I’m just at a stage where I feel ready for a Summer in my home town.
So I guess this is what it feels like to miss home. But I’ll guarantee when you ask me how I’m doing at the end of March next year, I’ll tell you that I can’t wait to pack my bags, get out of my comfort zone and get the hell away from a Victorian winter. Right now, I’m more than happy and grateful to have the best of both worlds…
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