Before I set off on my first solo travel adventure I had never experienced the feeling of homesickness. I didn’t understand the concept, I didn’t believe in it and I didn’t acknowledge it was a thing.
And then I found myself alone and lonely in Byron Bay, Australia.
New Year in Sydney
I’d been travelling solo for three months. I’d just spent the 3 weeks with a whole bunch of fantastic people including a friend from home who, a few years prior, had emigrated to New Zealand. We had been in Sydney celebrating Christmas and New Year and generally loving life.
Sydney Opera House
Celebrating New Year in Sydney
I said goodbye to my friend Darren at Sydney Airport. He was returning to Queenstown in New Zealand and I was flying to Byron Bay. I was sad to say goodbye but also excited about the next leg of my trip, where it would take me, the adventures I’d have and the people I’d meet.
Sydney Opera House
Feeling Homesick
A few hours later I arrived in Byron Bay. Tired and hungover, I found myself in unfamiliar territory with only memories, photographs and a backpack that felt like it weighed twice as much as I did.
I found my way in a daze to my hostel. My dorm was huge, untidy and smelled of stale sweat and dirty feet. I struggled to find a clean bunk bed, there were no spare lockers and no one was home.
Hot, sticky, sweaty and miserable, I crawled into what was to be my bed for the next few days feeling utterly sorry for myself.
I don’t know how long I lay there staring into space. A couple of hours maybe. I only moved when I couldn’t take the hunger pangs any longer, and even then I only ventured to the supermarket along the road to stock up on as much junk food as I could carry.
Back in the dorm there was still no sign of human life. I wondered how it could be possible that the place was so untidy when there was no one actually there. I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to talk to me and help me escape my self-induced misery. So I phoned home, Skyped some friends and then switched the lights out and cried into my pillow.
garnett / Pixabay
It was the weirdest feeling. I knew I didn’t really want to go home, and that I’d pick myself up the next day, but for those depressing few hours, if I could have clicked my heels together and been home, I would have.
But this isn’t a tale of woe.
Next morning I woke to find a room full of people (actually that’s not entirely true, I was wakened twice during the night with the noise of my new roomie’s arriving home). Within minutes of waking I was welcomed by a whole new bunch of friends, all excited and eager to hear my stories and I theirs.
Byron Bay
Byron Bay itself was everything I hoped it would be, and much more besides. Gorgeous weather, beautiful beaches, awesome surf, spectacular coastline scenery, a mild hiking trail to Cape Byron lighthouse, artisan night markets, vibrant nightlife and of course, the happy bus to Nimbin.
garnett / Pixabay
Freesally / Pixabay
Handling Homesickness
I’m still not sure if I believe in homesickness. I don’t think it was home that I was sickening for. I think instead, it was everything that home represents. Familiarity, safety, warmth, comfort, contentment, people I know and love. Perhaps most importantly, people that love me.
That desire to be surrounded by the comforting cocoon of familiarity disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. Once I acknowledged and accepted that there would be the odd down day, I was much better equipped to deal with it when it happened.
And now homesickness no longer hits me like a ton of bricks. It arrives, I (sometimes) cry, I call home and then I dust myself down, shake myself off and get out there and continue enjoying my unfamiliar adventure.
What do you do to handle homesickness?