Moving Yet Again
Living life from a suitcase.
I know what it means to lose everything; to leave friends and foe alike behind, to start over — over and over and over — to shed clothes and belongings like trivial nothings, to meet a cherished companion knowing it may well be the very last time I see their face.
From both curiosity, fate, circumstance, and happenstance, I’ve had to move so many times in the past let’s say sixteen years, it’s literally difficult to keep count. I’ve lived in so many different countries and cities, I’ll only mention the places of notable duration or that had a major impact on me:
Dublin (Ireland), Edinburgh (Scotland), Rotterdam (Holland), Berlin (Germany), Chalkida (Greece), Pau (France), Da Nang (Vietnam), Pyeongtaek (South Korea), Osaka (Japan), Bali (Indonesia) Siem Reap and Kampot (Cambodia) , LA and Chicago (US), Kathmandu (Nepal), Accra (Ghana), Goa (India), Sofia (Bulgaria), Bodrom (Turkey), Tirana (Albania), Auckland and Te Anau (New Zealand).
That list is in no particular order and I’m sure I’m missing a few, but you get the jist.
You may say I’m a natural traveler, or wanderer of the world, but the truth is, I mostly move around because I have to. Poverty keeps me on my feet searching for the…
