People often say that they wish to be free- free of ties that bind. For some this means freedom from an asphyxiating small town, an overbearing church, a job, a marriage or a mortgage. But these very things also provide identity, support and anchoring for the storms that eventually happen in life. Being completely on your own in a foreign land and trying to find something to hold onto through these storms can be quite difficult.

It is probably because I moved a lot as a kid that I have always been drawn to that free feeling that comes with packing up, cutting down one's possessions, and moving on to a promising new place or adventure. This has always been coupled with surges of excitement and imagination. What I have been doing for the last five years is dealing with an overwhelming degree of freedom. There are two sides to being completely mobile and free of obligations; the upside and the downside. The upside, purging your things, quitting your job, leaving your relations and launching out toward the unknown is heavily romanticized and well-known to us via books or movies. The lesser-covered downside is not talked about as much. I think this is because few people actually free themselves enough to actually experience it.

I am a creature of habit who, as I have aged, has left the comforts of a home base less and less. But now, as a home has eluded me, I have launched out into the world again seeking one. I have been both liberated and completely floored by the vastness of the freedom I have launched into. The road is infinite. There is no end to the places one can go, yet there are limits and constraints to visas that allow entry into places. And there is no end to being a stranger in each and every one of these places. There is no end the foreign languages and customs you can find yourself in.

For me there is always a honeymoon period when I launch out. There's a rush to the newness coming at me all at once. The climate is different and the air feels different. There are new, unfamiliar smells wafting about. All around are strange landscapes and never-before-experienced plants and animals, tastes and sounds, and so many other things. And the people are acting and speaking differently. It usually takes about two weeks for that honeymoon period to come to a halt. What it gives birth to is an understanding of just how much of a state of limbo I am in. I don't understand those around me nor they me. I am vulnerable and stand out from everything like a bright flag. I have written endlessly about the experience of world travel, so I will stick to the topic at hand- complete freedom from obligation or belonging and its repercussions.

When doing this you enter into a realm that is overwhelmingly vast. At times it is simply too much to handle. Now I am of a mind that the places I thought I needed to go to no longer matter. Yet I remain in limbo for the time being, still seeking a home. There will always be places I have not seen. But there is an increasing yearning for stability and normalcy. This normalcy used to be what I called boring. But there are sides to boring that are invisible, such as the predictability and security coupled with it. Now, as I wonder I am more and more drawn to be known, to contribute to the local community and be able to relate with folks around me.

The cultural differences I felt with the citizens of my native land now pale in comparison with the vast canyons I now perceive between me and the folk of the [foreign] land I am visiting. The factor of where you are socialized in the world is a huge one. I now see my fellow Americans in a new light. We might disagree about public policy, education, health care or taxation or religious or gender issues. But we all are American- it's how we learned to orient ourselves in the world. We speak English, wait our turn in line and consume our way from day to day. We all know football, Christmas trees, jack-o-lanterns, firework displays and apple pie. We know Budweiser, Elvis, bagel dogs and drive-through fried food. We identify ourselves as individuals in the world, rather than as part of a collective as is common in Asia. I don't think an American can truly recognize this until they are steeped in another culture. For instance, the way my lone self is received and judged in Asia has made this abundantly clear.

Like some of you I have learned about nomadic peoples and cultures, such as sailors or the Mongolian or Roma people, whose home is essentially on the move. And I have met travelers of the thickest skin that are like these people. I am talking about Westerners that have roamed for years and decades even. But I have realized that I am not one of these people. And as Westerners, these people are exceptions and not the norm. Being nomadic is not my culture. Generally speaking, Americans live in towns and cities. They go to work and then go home for a cold beer. They buy homes, get married, buy a bbq and lawnmower and raise families. Unless they are of extravagant means, they venture out within a limited range on weekends. They then return in preparation for Monday. The ways people do these things in foreign lands will forever be vastly different from what I grew up around. This will never change, no matter how long I linger there. I will always be the foreigner- the "farang" as the Thai's call it.

I have adopted this nomadic way of living to cut costs and to hopefully come upon good work, my own piece of land, people to relate to and a place to call home. The longer I roam, the more I crave this and see how it is most likely to occur in my native land. The longer I am abroad the more I feel willing to set aside differences and try to bend and find a place among my fellow countrymen and women. How that might turn out is unknown. But the discomfort of it all is egging me on to take greater risks, speak my truths, and hopefully find some likeminded souls.

In the context of finding a home back in the States, I am under few illusions about how my experiences abroad have changed me. With all that time and experience spent elsewhere, I will likely be alone with my recollections among Americans; only a minority of which hold a passport. Still, you can't change your native language, your native land and where you were socialized growing up. Additionally, the land, flora and fauna of your home country are different from what a person experiences in other lands. Their sights, sounds and especially smells are familiar and have a legacy attached to them. A person knows them better than he or she will know those of any other place.

My reaching out to you and my writing about my experience here, is one of my only opportunities to process the journey I am on. It has been a movement of the soul as well as one of the body. And in the end, my heart has trumped the mind and whatever wanderlust it gave birth to. Like any human, I crave community, contribution and a sense of belonging. I look forward to finding this and hanging up my backpack for good. In the meantime, there will be experiences to share with you on this road.