Being in Motion Is My Home

1000 rupiahs, 1 baht, and 3 sim cards — from Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. That’s what remains of my 3-month stay in Asia.

I put them back in my wallet, finish my breakfast, and head outside Milan’s airport. It’s late April and it’s rainy and cold outside. I had left to escape the winter, among other things. Surprise, surprise, winter is still here.

I head to the bus terminal to catch my ride to Turin — the final leg of a lengthy journey back home. Home… though I’m coming from Ubud, a place that, in many ways, feels like it too. And soon, I’ll be off again, ready to find temporary roots in another place.

I hop on the bus and head to the last row, hoping to get all the seats to myself so I can lay down and rest. The bus leaves and I could sleep. But a surge of melancholy and serenity lifts my tiredness. So I put on some music instead.

Kokoroko’s Home comes up. The perfect soundtrack to my feeling of belonging to a thousand places and none at the same time.

Sometimes I still question my nomadic lifestyle, wondering if it’s helping me expand my sense of home or stretching it out too thin. Is it possible to truly live globally, connected to friends and cultures all around the world? Or is it just a beautiful delusion?

I’m starting to tend towards the latter. But for now, I wouldn’t have it any other way. New experiences, places, and people — this is how I make sense of myself and the world. I process life better when I’m on the move.

For now, being in motion is my home.

1000 rupiahs, 1 baht, and 3 sim cards… and a profound gratitude for this journey. This is what remains from my time in Asia.