Wanderlust is a double-edged sword.
I love travel. Moreover, I love travelling to a place and staying there long enough to really get a sense of how it works. Granted, dropping in on a city or country for a vacation or just to explore a little is fun in itself. But I find few things as exciting as going to a new city--in Canada or abroad--and figuring it out little by little.
I love mapping the geography.
I love memorizing the street names and the landmarks and deciphering how people drive their cars.
I love figuring out which part of the city was built when and why by looking at the architecture.
And I love meeting new people, hearing stories, laughing, sharing drinks and bitching about whichever place we happen to co-inhabit at the moment.
In a place like Delhi the opportunities to indulge in such investigative work are endless. I still can't quite remember how to get to Khan Market though I stare at every street sign as I pass, but I now have two routes to Defense Colony and several to Siri Fort Auditorium. Expats change over faster than the Leaf's lineup. I even contemplate driving my own scooter because I think I have a chance of surviving the traffic. Maybe.
But sometimes, the pull of home starts to tug at me. These tugs normally occur when I'm sick or tired, like today, because, for some reason, sniffles and body ache seem like they'd suck just a little bit less if I were "home."
The happy, healthy, normal day tugs happen because, damn it, I miss my friends and family.
There's a certain allure to staying in one place for a long time, surrounded by the ones you love and the ones you tolerate because they're familiar and frankly you can't imagine your life without them. You get to watch your neighbours grow up, and then watch their children grow up, see how your parents change and how your siblings mature, watch intimate relationships between your friends evolve or unravel... and you get to participate in all of that, because, while you're out there watching, others are watching you.
Today I miss home. Not that I'm entirely sure where that is anymore, except to say that it's geographically located somewhere in Canada. It's not really Barrie anymore, though I refer to it as such when I'm in Victoria. And it's not Victoria, even though I refer to it as such when I'm in Barrie or abroad.
What I miss, really, are the people who I associate with both Canadian homes. Apparently my heartstrings have no sense of geography. On days like today, I hate that I'm missing first days of school, birthdays, due dates, weddings, house warming parties, careers launching and retirements.
That said, though, I'm still here in Delhi, and aside from my more sentimental moments, I'm loving it (screw you McDonalds). Even on the days when I hate it--and those days occur--I still love the adventure in all of this.
For the millionth time in my life, I wish I could be in several places at once. But for now, I'm stuck in bed with a bad case of sniffles and homesickness.