Love Letters 💌 “will I ever feel at home?” asks nowhere girl 🛼

(Dallas🤠, San Francisco🌁, & Cusco 🦙 in 3 weeks)

Listen to me narrate this Love Letter.

It’s been three weeks since I fled the comforts of Dallas, Texas; I won’t be returning for another 12 weeks. This would be, by far, my longest nomadic escapade.

I wasn’t born with wanderlust. It was actually a friend of mine from college who infected me with her contagious curiosity for travel (thanks Melissa). But I would like to believe that finding and falling in love with exploring liminal spaces was always written in my stars.

San Francisco

I touchdown in the Bay Area, marveling at the dazzling waterscape outside my airplane window as we kiss the ground. This would be the fifth time I’ve rendezvoused with this part of the West Coast, and having seen all the most popular tourist hotspots from my previous trips, I no longer felt any of the butterflies I used to get when I first embraced San Francisco as a tourist. It felt akin to getting over a crush. I could now objectively see this place for all its beauties as well as its flaws.

For me, the beauty lies partially in the botanical diversity that paints its stunning landscape… and primarily in the people who receive me so warmly every time I visit.

San Francisco is ephemeral. The majority of my friends who have called San Francisco ‘home’ at some point in time have always, always moved on.

• Sean, from episode 23, housed me in his bougie downtown apartment where I crashed for a night.
• Nancy, from that very same trip, shared her discontent with the gaping pay gap of Silicon Valley as she walked me through sunny Mission District.
• Jon, a Bay Area native, took me to tour the Berkeley campus, which he loved with pride.
• Last time, my husband invited me to stay with his family in Oakland for a night before we drove down to Santa Cruz to take a peek into one of his past lives.
• This time, all my friends who graciously offered me a couch until I could finally reunite with Abhas, my creative chimera brother from episode 9.

This mirror reflection of transience between the city and I comforts and distresses my vagabond soul.

Will I ever feel at home?

Cusco, Peru

I write from Cusco, Peru, sitting at a table across from my nomadic sister Tiffany (from episode 12). I’ve only spent a little over a week here, but aside from the fact that I’ve yet to fully acclimate to the altitude (3,400 m high, making this the highest place in the world I’ve ever visited), I feel like I’ve lived here forever. I’ve chosen not to distract myself with any of the tourist attractions that have placed Cusco on the travel bucket list of so many of my friends. Maybe I’m just jaded. But also, if I live here, there’s no sense of urgency. Machu Picchu is just in my backyard.

Outside my bedroom window lies a sea of sun-burnt orange terra cotta rooftops that pool before a mountainous backdrop, always hugged by bellowing clouds. Here, there are no distinctions between cobblestone alleyways and cobblestone roads. The sidewalks are barely wide enough to walk comfortably on as I tightrope crawl way my way against walls of buildings, always on the verge of being grazed by passing cars. A casual grocery run is also a high-altitude training workout when even a 10 minute walk is a journey through steep inclines and a thousand stair steps.

Getting Lost — Cusco, Peru

Like San Francisco, I’ll remember Cusco by its people.

I’m here with a group of digital nomads from the WiFi Tribe community. As this is the third time I’m traveling with the group (the first time in Oaxaca in October 2021 and the second time in Playa Del Carmen in November 2021), I feel like I’m experiencing a strange college reunion of sorts. Half the people of this group I’ve already established budding friendships with from our past lives. And having the same roommate from my first excursion makes this foreign new city feel so familiar.

I think the beauty of living with a group of digital nomads is that we experience life with a definite deadline. The future is uncertain in the most poetic of ways. Friendships that would have taken years to develop happen over the course of one coffee date.

Beyond this immediate camaraderie between lost souls, I am also engaging with the locals. Within the first week, I signed up for a theater therapy class that was targeted at Cusqueños seeking group therapy applying acting techniques. In a single 2-hour session, even with my imperfect Spanish, we mourned and processed everyone’s turmoils and emotions as a unity. It was one of the utmost unexpected yet human experiences I’ve ever participated in. When we departed at the end of the night, we were all hugging and bidding each other farewell as if we were long lost friends.

Theatre Therapy

And like San Francisco, I know my community here is also impermanent.

In a world where change is the only constant, I ground myself in a few truths.

1. The home I’ve created within myself — a body that is healthy, able, and full of love. No matter where I lose myself, I confide in my ability to find and make friends.
2. The home my little sibling forever reserves for me in their heart. Despite their fear of abandonment, they respect my wanderlust and trusts that no matter where I go, and for how long, that I’ll always return to them.
3. The home I found in my husband — a metaphorical sanctuary. A place I always find stillness and peace from the rolling rhythm of reality.

And if all I need is myself, some friends, and my chosen family,

then am I not already,

always,

and forever

home.

Cusco, Peru