Many years ago I lived in Australia. Before I made the move I was living in Victoria, British Columbia and was in a slump; I was uninspired and looking for purpose. After some scrolling through Instagram, I decided to call Australia my new home because there was a tattoo artist there that I wanted to get some work from, and that was enough. I landed in Melbourne, found a room in a hostel, and booked the tattoo appointment. I got the new tattoo on American Thanksgiving, and when I went back to the hostel after the appointment I found all of the American guests had organized a proper Thanksgiving feast for everyone to enjoy. While the food was phenomenal and the company even better, I did not feel a sense of home. I wondered if anyone else felt like this celebration eased their own homesickness, or perhaps it made them miss home even more because this dinner wasn’t exactly what they were used to. Mind you, at this point of my story I myself was not homesick – on the contrary, I felt more free and independent than I had in a long time. But this would start to change.
While I was living in the hostel in Melbourne, I quickly learned how weak my Canadian currency was compared to the cost of living in Australia. Not only did I need to start making money, but I needed to find accommodation that was more comfortable; although the hostel I was staying in was good quality, it did not serve as a home. So, I applied for a working holiday visa and found a place to live that was more peaceful compared to the chaotic youth hostel, and landed a job at a coffee shop across town.
A couple months went by, and I was starting to feel aimless and no more at home here than I did when I first arrived and was staying at the hostel. I had a beautiful apartment, my job was decent, and I was having a lot of fun in Melbourne – so why was I unhappy? After some more time in the city, I decided to quit my job and visit Hobart, Tasmania. I had never had any desire to go to Tasmania, and when I arrived I had no goals. Regardless, I found a bed in a hostel, and explored the city. A few days after checking into this new pseudo-home, I found a friendly hostel patron, and we decided to hike kunanyi / Mt. Wellington. I have completed numerous breathtaking hikes in my life, and this was one of the best. Australia is a beautiful country, and to see such an uninhabited, lush portion of it from 1271m was a profound experience. Yet home was not here either. In fact, I felt an even greater sense of emptiness than before the hike. The search for home continued.
Some more time went by, and after exploring more of Hobart, I was getting tired. Not physically, but mentally. I recall it clearly: one beautiful, cloudless, sunny afternoon I was laying on my bed in the hostel, staring out into the sky, and feeling hopeless. Actually, hopeless isn’t quite right. I was feeling nothing. Numb. A depression that I had never felt before. It was severe, and it needed to go away. I remembered feeling more – feeling something – in Melbourne, so I decided to go back. A couple days later I was back in the same hostel that I left for my apartment, and to little surprise, this hostel did not feel anymore more like home than it did when I stayed there the first time.
What to do. I was at an impasse. I could no longer stay in hostels without an income, and I was not willing to try to find a new job in Melbourne. After some consideration, it hit me: Japan was pretty darn close to me. At least a lot closer than it was from the Pacific Northwest. Since I was young I’ve wanted to visit Japan; it had been top of my list for more than half my life. So without much consideration, I decided to take what money I had left and spend it on a nine day trip to Tokyo. And these nine days were divine. I had no schedule, no goals – but it felt good; I did what I wanted each day, and got as much out of the city and its people as I could. I ate and drank well, engaged in memorable human connections, and saw beautiful sites. And as my trip was coming to a close, I still did not find home in the sense that I had expected to. It was after this trip that I realized home isn’t necessarily where I have a job, or an apartment, or a routine – home is where I am living my truth. My mom has always told me to “follow my bliss,” and that is exactly what I was doing, and exactly what gave me peace. For me, home is not a place, or a person, rather it is a state of mind where I can exist as my genuine self. It was this feeling of freedom that I embodied when I moved to Melbourne for the tattoo. The unadulterated sense of ambition and truth. This is the “place” I belong. This is home.
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Works Cited
Alyse. “6 Days In Tokyo Itinerary: Complete Guide For First-Timers.” The Invisible Tourist, 8 January 2020, https://www.theinvisibletourist.com/6-days-in-tokyo-itinerary-first-time/. Accessed 27 January 2020.
“Cost of Living Comparison Between Australia and Canada.” Numbeo, https://www.numbeo.com/cost-of-living/compare_countries_result.jsp?country1=Australia&country2=Canada. Accessed 27 January 2020.
Crossley-Baxter, Lily. “The Golden Guide to Shinjuku’s Golden Gai.” Tokyo Cheapo, 25 September 2019, https://tokyocheapo.com/food-and-drink/quick-guide-golden-gai/. Accessed 27 January 2020.
Galloway, Isabel. “Our Guide To Exploring Kunanyi / Mt Wellington.” Hobart & Beyond, 17 July 2019, https://hobartandbeyond.com.au/news-posts/our-guide-to-exploring-kunanyi-mt-wellington/. Accessed 27 January 2020.