A Homebody with Wanderlust: An Oil and Water Mix!

I love travelling. I relish every moment spent soaking up new countries and cultures, taking in all the exciting sights, sounds and smells. I feel invigorated just thinking about immersing myself in all those tantalisingly unexplored places. I also embrace any opportunity to not only open my children’s eyes to the many and varied ways that people live their lives, but to highlight our commonalities and what binds us as human beings the world over.

My feelings, however, aren’t constant, and over the years I’ve come to realise that I go through a five phase cycle when it comes to leaving the comfort of my home and exploring this beautiful planet of ours.

Phase 1: Holiday Planning. For the most part this is exhilarating. The infinite possibilities are all just one click away from being considered, and, like a kid in a sweet shop, I’m thrilled by the appeal of so many tempting options. With a mountain of research ahead of me, I am a woman with a purpose and I delight in comparing fares, considering villas and hotels, and finding out about all the activities we can expect to enjoy. Trawling though Trip Advisor reviews feels endlessly fulfilling and there’s a unique sense of satisfaction that comes with organising the perfect getaway that I’m sure our whole family will enjoy. Once everything is booked, I’m filled with an enormous feeling of accomplishment and from that point on I find myself whiling away many hours imagining how wonderful this trip is going to be.

Phase 2: Pre-Holiday Apprehension. Unbelievably, in the last few weeks and days before the big date of departure, I begin to feel a little overwhelmed by what lies ahead. The adventure that I’ve been daydreaming about suddenly feels fraught with potential problems and danger, and my energy levels plummet at the mere thought of all that packing. The idea of crowded airports and cramped, uncomfortable plane journeys is totally repelling and I start to fear what might meet us at the other end…Will the roads be hellish? Will one of us require medical attention? Will the accommodation be disastrous? Will we be hit by a cyclone or some other horrifying force of nature? Sitting safely on my own sofa watching TV rapidly becomes the preferred option and, at this point, if the whole trip was unexpectedly cancelled my feelings of despair would undoubtedly be tinged with undeniable relief.

Phase 3: Holiday Euphoria. Plane journeys are never pleasant, and every time I walk past the intimidating gaze of a customs official I always begin to fear having all our carefully arranged suitcases rifled through by someone with no regard for packing order and, worse, that I might have committed a heinous crime by bringing something that I thought was perfectly innocuous…are nail clippers prohibited here?!!! Or, even more horrifying, that some shady character next to the luggage carrousel might have quickly slipped something highly illegal into my suitcase (not that there’d ever be room, but still…) and I’d be the next star of ‘Banged Up Abroad’, fiercely defending my innocence. So, when we finally emerge unscathed through the ‘Nothing To Declare’ aisle, that’s when it hits me: A giddy sense of euphoria, a rush of adrenalin, an urgent need to explore this new playground and immediately discover everything that it has to offer. Of course, my plans are invariably scuppered by jet lag and a long sleep will always ensue, but, after that, everyday is like a blank canvas, waiting to be creatively filled in whichever way we choose. The new environment gives me a sparkling burst of energy and I soak up every minute detail of our fresh surroundings. It’s fantastic spending so much quality time with my husband and children and I delight in their awe and excitement too. Every morning brings a new adventure and life seems endlessly fun and fascinating. I begin to wonder why I ever had second thoughts about coming to this incredible, vibrant place and, over many exotic, mouth-wateringly delicious meals, we eagerly chat about other trips we can take in the future, enthusiastically making plans for every summer for the next five years.

Phase 4: Over it. Regardless of how much fun we’ve been having on holiday, as our departure date looms closer, I always feel ready to return home and heartily embrace all my creature comforts again. I’m fed up of wearing the same old clothes, my stash of preferred tea has run out, the bed’s too small, I miss cooking our family meals and I suddenly like the idea of waking up in the morning and not filling my day with a myriad of new and exciting things to do. I yearn a bit of consistency and familiarity. I’m not sure if this is just a coping mechanism, knowing that our adventure is soon to finish so I have to convince myself that this is a good thing, or whether I genuinely reach a point where I’m over it. Regardless, the excruciating journey home only exacerbates these feelings. By the time we’ve dragged our tired bodies through multiple airport queues and wedged ourselves into tiny seats for hours on end, the joy and relief at finally being home is unparalleled. The mere mention of any future travel plans fills me with exhaustion and I’d be happy if I never saw another passport officer again.

Phase 5: Renewed Holiday Enthusiasm. This comes about sooner than you'd think. Two weeks at home is enough to meet my craving for domesticity. After that, my wanderlust returns and the world starts beckoning me with irresistible appeal. There’s just so much to see and do out there; so many sandy beaches to walk barefoot along, so much historical architecture to be marveled at, so many festivals to enjoy, so much wildlife to be fascinated by, so many dynamic cities to lose ourselves in, so much scrumptious food to be devoured. I start to mentally list places in terms of urgent priority (New York, Costa Rica, South Africa and Perth in Australia currently top the charts) and pretty soon I’m back to Phase 1…

As expats in the Middle East, we’re fortunate enough to enjoy quite a bit of travel, and I’m deeply thankful for that. A fortnight ago we returned from a spectacular seven week trip to Hong Kong and Fiji. As expected, I had my last minute bout of trepidation, but we ended up having the time of our lives. Hong Kong was a wonderful city to explore, with so much to see and do, and it was fantastic to travel onwards to our house in Fiji, reconnect with our friends and family there and keep the children in touch with their roots. It’s such a unique, breathtakingly beautiful country, you can’t help but fall in love with it. Nevertheless, when we finally came back to Doha and I nestled my head into my perfect pile of pillows, I spent a good few minutes saying out loud how much I genuinely love my own bed. At that point in time, there was truly nowhere else in the world I’d have rather been. I may be a fickle creature, but to me, home is where my duvet is, and, however much of an amazing time we’ve had, I’m always happy to reacquaint myself with it!