What a comfort it is to arrive in a foreign land and feel at home. Many places I have visited have exuded a surprising familiarity, despite an abundance of superficial differences.
Equatorial Africa could hardly be more opposite to the culture in which I was raised. In this case, home is ease of adjustment. I prefer hot, humid weather and fresh market foods and people walking about all hours of the day. Each return is a welcome visit.
In Germany the language is harsh and the diet is heavy. Yet the love of outdoor adventure and good beer tickles my fancy. My familial connection to the country likely factors in, but an ability to be anonymous abroad closes the deal.
And London is my Valhalla, an ancient and battle-scarred city filled people of many colors and dialects, a mélange of history and culture in a modern, international hub.
I suppose I suffer from a slight identity crisis, even contemplating this idea of home and projecting it onto places so far from where I grew up. It does make my frequent moves rather manageable, however.