It´s a year to the day that I have moved into my little place in Torrevieja on Spain´s Costa Blanca. Small but cozy, the ideal writer´s den, just steps from the beach. I can contemplate the sea from my balcony, enjoy warm weather year around and have made many new friends, Spanish and otherwise.
Considering, that I am on the right side of 70 but only just and am still laboring with the aftereffects of a cracked spine, my sensible angel who lives on my right shoulder, tells me, that it´s time to grow roots, to stop looking for greener pastures and to be happy where I am now.
BUT, there is the little travel devil which sits on my left shoulder. That one wears boots and always carries a small suitcase on wheels. The world is big, he whispers. There is so much yet to do and see, new cultures to explore, nature to marvel over, museums to visit. You aren´t an old age pensioner who is happy to just sit on a bench in the sun, you aren´t in a wheelchair and restlessness starts rising to the surface.
I have to acknowledge that I am a nomad at heart and after a year or so, feel the urge to move on. I am fighting an eternal battle between wanting to settle down and being compelled to move on. That urge isn´t satisfied by just traveling, I need to live in a new country, to become local.
I have done that all my life. So far I have lived in Switzerland, the UK, Miami, Turkey, Beirut and now, for the second time, Spain. My stays covered a period of anything between six months and 5 years and I loved every day as much as I love the prospect of going somewhere else.
The downside is that I don´t feel comfortable in rented accommodation which would be much more suitable to a nomadic lifestyle. I need a place of my own, just in case the sensible angel wins out in the end. So there is the hassle of selling, followed by the pleasure of house hunting. You see, there is always a balance. I also don´t accumulate possessions, they are only an encumbrance when the time comes to move on.
The question is: where next? Decisions, decisions. Right now I am inclined towards Italy. As a preliminary step, I have started to learn Italian, one never knows and another language always come in handy. But for once, I think I´ll be sensible and make forays into different parts of Italy over the next year, still keeping my base in Spain. Is that a sign of advancing old age, I wonder?
Whatever, the battle is raging on, but deep down I know who is, sooner or later, going to win.
I´m sure there are other nomads at heart around and I´d love to hear their stories and feelings.