About a year ago today, I boarded a plane to Thailand. Now, I'm just wrapping up a summer spent in Canada. In the past year I have spent more time out of my home country than in it, and almost no time in my home city of Portland.
In my eight months of jet-setting, I've learned so much about myself and how I react to new places, new people and unfamiliar situations. I've also learned that throughout this time, I still define myself as a Portlander. With my more independent sense of self has come a much stronger sense of home.
True, I can adapt. I've slept on straw mats on the ground in the middle of rural Thailand, and I've spent all summer living alone and constantly changing places, moving almost every two weeks. I've made amazing friends during my short stays in these foreign places. I've had awkward encounters. I've been lonely and desperate and happy and sad.
But really, throughout it all, Portland has been my beacon. My defining trait. I know I can live away from it, but I now know just how much it is a part of me and that I can never truly leave it.
