People often ask, where are you from? Where do you live? Where’s home?
When I think of the word home, I go back to the smell of a hearty stew, the sound of my little sister’s laughter and bark of our dog Benny haring around, the cosy warmth of an open fire in the living room. Home was a small town in Berkshire, a mixture of walks to the park and day trips to London for a special treat.
But as you reach the age where you have to pack up your belongings, get a proper job and move into a new place where you have to do all the chores, home suddenly begins to have a new meaning.
Ever since I can remember, I always knew I’d move to London. The bright lights and tall looming buildings that I gazed up at as a child made me feel like a part of something so exciting. By day business women in heels strutted around the city in the sun, drinking fancy looking cocktails and laughing with their friends inside glamorous bars by night. This little girl wanted nothing more than to grow up and be just like them.
Now the city is my home, living in a lovely little flat overlooking the city’s skyline, which I share with Allyn, and it couldn’t be cosier. What used to be defined with my mum’s cooking and the loud bustle of my family gossiping about their day, is now the thought of looking out over our beautiful view, a glass of wine on the sofa with my man and laughing as we dance around making dinner. I think 10 year old Eppie would be satisfied with that.
So whilst I enjoy my favourite city and the place I can now call home, I do often wonder where I’ll end up in the future. Whenever I travel somewhere new, I always think, could I live here? More often than not the answer is no. As much as I love new cultures, beautiful scenery and a breath of fresh foreign air, I couldn’t leave my beloved London unless something truly pulled at my heartstrings.
So far, only two places in the world have made me reconsider.
The first was Cape Town. I don’t know what it is about this incredible place but everyone I know who’s been feels the same. Perhaps its the mixture of sun, sea and city life but after just one day touring around the coastline, a strong adoration was sparked that I can’t quite describe. It could have been the wine…
So what stopped me? Well number one – I’m in love with a London-located man and I have no desire for that long distance malarchy. Number two – as much as I fell in love with Cape Town and will most definitely be returning *starts looking at flights*, I just couldn’t do it alone.
The second place that almost made me rip up my return ticket was Canada. Now I can tell you exactly why I want to live here… those miraculously, majestic, overwhelmingly, stunning landscapes. I just could not get enough.
Could Canada be home? I think so. In fact its turned into a ‘when shall we move?’ question rather than a ‘should we go?’. It wouldn’t be for longer than a couple of years, I could never move away from my family forever, but fingers crossed its somewhere that could become our new home in the future. Nothing makes me happier than my Canadian vision of waking up to the view of snowy mountains, a backdrop for some pancakes and maple syrup, as Allyn puts a log on the fire in his plaid check shirt… don’t tell me that’s not realistic.
Have you ever travelled somewhere that has made you consider moving there? Where’s home to you? Join in the #travellinkup hosted on the lovely blogs of Angie, Jessi, Emma and Polly, and link to your post about home between the 1-7th July.