Eight years.
That’s 416 weeks, or almost 3,000 days.
This is the amount of time that I have not had a fixed home; moving to a new country, culture and language every few months and taking absolutely everything I own with me. It has been a significant percentage of my life, and it’s still long from over.
I had actually done some travelling before – a couple of summers in the states, and an entire month already in Spain. But about this time back in 2003, on the week of my 21st birthday, I left Ireland for good. I had graduated university a few days before, and knew that I’d only be coming back “home” for visits (I’ve never once missed the family Christmas dinner). But it’s not really my home any more. Since then, “wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home”.
After devoting my life to them, university and schools had taught me nothing of any real importance. I had gone through as many books as I could and thought I knew it all, but the fact of the matter is that I have become the person I was meant to be in the last 4/5 of a decade, while on the road. And I certainly still have a lot left to learn.
[Edit: People keep asking me how I can afford a travel lifestyle for so long, or if I'm rich or if my parents paid for everything. I paid for the entire trip myself, starting with no moneysaved up; I can assure you my lifestyle is way cheaper than most settled people who prove observation #10 and need so much money to buy rubbish!
You don't need to be rich to travel the world. To find out more about me and my story, please read my site's About page to see a list of the many jobs I've had during my...