The traveller and the
Wanderer are much alike, although the traveller has a aim and the wanderer never gets lost.
For the traveller the journey is
an exception, a side step from normal life.
For the wanderer the journey is normal life.
The wanderer feels at home everywhere.
But where is the home of
This holiday is over already.
has dropped me at Schiphol airport yesterday.
This journey has ended.
- the Netherlands
- My pasport states the Dutch nationality, with Rotterdam as place of birth.
While abroad nothing upsets me so much as an unexpected Rotterdam accent.
Ja toch, nie tan?
(yes, isn't it?)
But even Rotterdam is not fully my home town anymore.
The current city does not match my memories as a boy
The question remains:
Where is the home of this traveller?
- I feel comfortable in Malaysia.
Over the years I've lost count on the number of times I've visited this country.
It must be somewhere between twenty and thirty.
In this country it is endless joy to have a mee soup,
work at ease
some roster software,
get enthousiastic about the jungle.
Even though I have
lived and worked in Malaysia, I remain a tourist, a stranger, a
mat sa leh, a visitor passing by.
- The west coast of Australia, south of Perth,
impressed me very deeply.
I've enjoyed the
train journey with the Indian Pacific,
cycling tour around Rottnest Island,
forests in Pemberton,
the beach and Australia Day in Bunburry.
South West Australia
- a perfect climate
- two oceans for swimming
- beautiful beaches
- cool and pleasant forests
- relaxed towns
- excellent food.
The Ozzies have a perfect ticking country, yet they are the most relaxed folks on earth.
Their English sounds like music to my ears, easy going.
No worries mate
are exemplorary for their pleasant way of interacting.
I feel at home down under, but I was just passing by.
Where does this traveller belong?
In Bunburry, during the Australia day, I lied down listening to a concert.
A song text of Peter Allen
offered and unexpected answer:
Home is where the journey ends.
Till next week,