Moving a lot is part of the whole “Nomad” gig — by definition. In many ways, it’s one of the best parts. But some moves are harder than others.
The physical move is easy enough. I can pack in an hour, and hauling my pack to the next city is no big deal unless there’s a lot of walking involved.
It’s leaving that’s difficult. Some places I bond with more than others. I left little pieces of my heart behind in the plaza in Quito, with the Niños in Peru, and in the woods in Turkey with my friend Diana. I left a bit with my hosts in Marrakech, and another chunk with that baby monkey I cared for in South Africa.
Now I’m leaving a piece in my village house in Plesungan.
If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know I strive to always find a positive way to view things, and here it is: All those people and places left bits of themselves in me, too, and my heart is larger and my spirit richer for having known them.
I love about moving often. Lack of commitment is very freeing. If I had bought this village house with the intention of staying here for ten years or more, I might be more bothered by the mosquitos and lizards and lack of sidewalks in the village. As it is, I’m looking forward to a month in the big city, air conditioning, and modern conveniences.
As long as I keep shifting between rural and urban, and from one culture to another, it’s easy to stay focused on the most positive aspects of each place.
I know some people dislike change and would have a hard time feeling secure and grounded without a home, but for me it’s thrilling.
So I’m a little bit sad about leaving Plesungan — it seems so soon! Will I really never lie in that hammock again, or say good morning to the Bathroom Toad or Prince Icky the Frog? But at the same time, I’m excited about Malaysia and looking forward to seeing something new. Onward we go!