Fernweh:    Fern•weh      nt   wanderlust

I can remember back to when I was a little girl of about 5 and my grandmother took me on a cross-country trip. On this trip I saw mountains for the first time, I saw the ocean, and I saw the Grand Canyon. To this day, it remains one of the most amazing memories I have. The feeling of standing at the top of the canyon and looking over the gorgeous brown, red, yellow, and blue expanse. It made me feel small and significant at the same time.

It was this trip at such an early age that made me thirsty to see more. Like being bitten by a giant, invisible mosquito, I knew that there would always be a need to see as much of the world as possible.

As soon as I could drive, I would get into my car and drive to some city that I had not seen in my home state. Even a weekend road trip would excite me to no end. However, it wasn’t until college that I had the opportunity to make the leap across the Atlantic. I had always dreamed of visiting Europe since it was the home of the music I’d studied for so long. The first place I went was Salzburg, made even more magical by the fact that it was the birthplace of Mozart. Of course, for a person with wanderlust, this only made things worse because one trip makes you greedy to see more. After Salzburg, I applied for a grant to study for a summer in France, and picked a place where they spoke next to no English. After the first visit, I knew that someday I wanted to live in Europe.

However, before that dream, I was lucky to be able to move to California for two years. This turned out to be one of the best things to happen because it gave me my first experience of the high and abysmal low of culture shock and depression that comes with a huge move away from most everything you know. It took 6 months to really get comfortable and love where I was. But of course, as a young artist you usually have about 2-3 years max in a city before you will eventually move on. After that, I was an east coast girl again for a very short time, but during that time I was able to visit Zimbabwe and Russia. Two places that I NEVER thought I would go. Exciting because they are so different from anything I had known.

Now that I have lived in Berlin for three years, with more accessibility to easy travel, the old itch has come back. Although I’ve been able to explore more places that I’ve never seen within Europe, my heart is aching to travel East…and even more importantly to Africa. I think the loneliness that I’ve experienced from moving by myself to Germany and the subsequent loneliness has ignited a need to know who I am on a deeper level and where exactly my ancestors come from. You know the old cliché about people leaving to find themselves? I only now understand why it’s sometimes true that you have to leave to find yourself. When you are truly removed from everything you know and knew that you think defines who you are, you absolutely must know who you are.

Heimweh:    Heim•weh      nt   homesickness

It is no secret that most , if not all artists must travel as part of the occupation. Personally, this was one of the main reasons I wanted to be an artist. Traveling and seeing new places and collecting shot glasses, meeting new people, absorbing local culture and tasting new foods are some of the best things in life!

But, as with everything in life, there are always consequences to every action. Whether they are good or bad is a matter of perspective. Leaving home also means leaving the people you know and love, missing important events in their lives, and ultimately leaving a part of yourself behind.

When I was younger and completely excited about a life filled with music and traveling, I had little awareness of the sacrifices that would be involved. I had no idea that a meaningful and long-lasting relationship would be hard to attain when you move to a new city every 2-5 years. No idea that you miss births and weddings, divorces, relocations, deaths, and that sometimes friendships become tenuous. When you’re packing your suitcase, you can’t help but also pack a little sadness and guilt for leaving, even if you know you’ll return.

This past month I was blessed enough to be released for an extended summer to be with my family for medical reasons and it hit me hard how much I missed being home. During just this first few weeks of being home, I was able to attend the wedding of two very dear people, reconnect with people I haven’t seen in years, and relive the utter joy of being around people who really deeply know you and love you. Yes, travel is an amazing thing, one of the best things. I believe that it makes you a better person and better able to relate to other people in the long run. But make no mistake, a life constantly on the road is a lonely life and hella exhausting to be quite honest. The older I get, the more the idea of being in one place becomes appealing.

Of course, you still have to deal with the very real old adage that “you can’t go home again.” Cities change, buildings are demolished and new ones put in their place. Time marches on and the people you leave behind change, grow, and live their lives while you’ve lived yours. And although you go home to visit and share your experiences with each other, catch up and laugh at old times, you know that you have no new memories with the people you love and grew up with. At times, there are few things more painful than scrolling through your Facebook feed and seeing pictures of your faraway friends together and wishing desperately that you could be there.

Still, there is that need to explore and see…so you close your Facebook app and open your calendar and travel app to see when you might have time and how much a ticket to your next dream location will cost and you set off with your suitcase, hopefully packed with enough love from home for the return journey.