Someone who's been away from theoretical "home" for years might disagree with this statement. But I hold true, because there is a difference between traveling and living. Some of the people I've met have lived in Melbourne, lived in Hastings, lived in Wellington. Occasionally going out to visit a park, to go on a hike, to see a new site. But they work. Their clothes are everywhere because they don't have to be packing up every week; their toiletries stay in the bathroom instead of in a plastic bag in their pack. Maybe you'd never get tired of traveling if you were a billionaire; being totally free from worries about transportation, accommodation, food, and activity costs.
WWOOFing: it is a wonderful way to meet locals, to learn about native vegetation, cultural norms, and special places to visit. Free food and housing for a few hours of work a day, easy. Some commercial and family businesses, homes even, can find slight ways to cheat the system a bit. Of course, just because of the nature of the system, it has never had and will never have set rules, regulations, or limitations. Some places turn into "a few more hours here", "make your own meals there", "please supply your own breakfast and snacks". The added pressure, which you have to be prepared for if you ever start WWOOFing, and which I believe is the most tiresome part, is continually feeling the need to please the host even after having completed the four to six hours of "required" work. Helping with everything around meal times, watching kids, not spending too much time away from the host/on a device. Of course, the situation changes with the type of place; family vs couple, old vs young, hostel/B&B/hotel vs house, rural vs urban, amount of experience, etc.
Some things don't change, though; you will always have the awkward first introduction, the discomfort of the first day or two learning how things run, the pressure of trying to overachieve in order to make a good first impression and show the host you care. Each bed you go to sleep in takes time to adjust to, each shower handle annoyingly different, each meal at unfamiliar times.
One could be in a paradise of fruit trees, golden sand beaches, and peaceful rural silence and still feel tense in the shoulders. One could be near snow capped mountains, in the center of a buzzing town with countless adventure activities just outside the doorstep, and still just want to curl up, undisturbed, to watch a favorite childhood movie.
Maybe my connection to home is stronger than others and these places sound amazing to you. They do to me too, just in moderation. Or maybe it is that I still have something at home to come back to; a college degree in waiting, unforeseen job opportunities. This has been the big difference between me and the 25 year old Englishman sleeping in the next bunk over. They've lived in these places, and been content because they have no idea what lies ahead of them at home, let alone in the country they're in.
I've found that I've almost learned more from comparing and contrasting different experiences, memories, past, present, and future, than what has been happening to me day to day. But I also still stand by this: I wouldn't take it back for the world. Traveling is an eye-opener, a different kind of wisdom. In an effort to sum this up and an effort to say things in simpler terms, I'm humbled by the life I see other people living and appreciative of the life I get to live.
