I Thought I Was Looking for a Place, But I Found a Feeling

During this trip, I’ve been searching for a new place to call home. But the more places I discover, the more confused I become about what “home” really means to me.

The Easy Part is Leaving

Everywhere I’ve lived, I’ve been okay saying goodbye. It was easy to leave Vancouver Island. I was ready to move on from Kamloops. And deep down, I always knew Gatineau wasn’t where I would stay long term.

So what does home really feel like?

Is it material? A space you love because you worked hard to own it? Or is it emotional? A sense of comfort and safety? Is it where your best memories live, or where your closest people are?

Or is home something you carry within yourself? Do we eventually become so grounded in who we are that we can feel at home anywhere, simply because we trust ourselves enough?

I Briefly Considered Never Leaving New Zealand

For a moment I thought my home was in New Zealand. I fell absolutely in love with the country and was devastated to leave. I even considered abandoning my European plans just to stay.

But then I found Sagres.

After visiting the UK, then Porto, Nazare, Ericeira and Lisbon, I decided to do a one week surf camp in the Algarve. I was hoping to find smaller waves and warmer weather for March since it’s the end of the winter season here.

The Kind of Place That Keeps People

I stumbled upon a surf camp called Sagres Natura, owned by a local woman named Sara. I arrived completely exhausted, coming off a night out in Lisbon and a chaotic journey south with no data or access to google maps. But the moment I walked through the door, I felt it.

I can’t explain what it was, but it just felt good.

Everyone that I’d met either wished they could stay longer or was on their second, third, or fourth trip there. There was something about the place that made people stay.

Sagres itself is small and sleepy, it has a population of under 2000. But the energy in the town makes it feel bigger. Surrounded by dramatic cliffs and open ocean, it was once believed to be the edge of the world. Standing there, looking out at the Atlantic, I understood why.

I was only meant to stay there a week. I stayed three.

Saltwater and Smiles

My first week, I stayed in a four bed dorm with just myself and one German couple. We became fast friends and shared so many laughs over the seven days together. I was genuinely sad to see them go. But during my meant-to-be-check-out-date I felt an overwhelming sense of relief that I wasn’t packing my bags.

I completed two surf packages. There were 10 surf lessons over 2-weeks, and then I stayed another week completing a lesson here or there and paddling out with new friends.

You’d think after that much surfing I might be okay at it by now, but I’m still shit.

I’ve never had so much water come out of my nose in my life. I’m still not sure where it hides for hours before deciding to make an involuntary dramatic exit.

Somewhere along the last 4-months I picked up the bad habit of using my knee during my pop up. I was using it so much that it meant I was dragging my back foot on the board and I got a rash which turned into an open wound that I had to tape every time I went out.

At times it was quite discouraging. I’d look back at the instructor, Kike, hoping my pop up was okay just to see him pointing at his knee once again.

But slowly, I improved. By the end of my time in Sagres, I had (mostly) corrected it, and my foot began to heal.

The weather wasn’t what I expected either. I wore my spring suit under the camp’s wetsuit, and many afternoons brought rain and strong winds.

But none of that really mattered.

Even with imperfect weather, the hard goodbyes, and far more swallowed saltwater than successful waves, I loved every moment.

A Puppy, A Pastry, and A Perspective Shift

Slowing down in Sagres reminded me what really matters.

I found myself reveling in the smallest things. An older man with his new puppy. A friend hanging my wetsuit out in the sun. Shared laughter. Someone setting aside a pastel de nata for me. The pure joy on someone’s face when they finally stood up on a wave.

I am starting to think home might be less about where you are and more about how you feel when you’re there.

Maybe home isn’t something you find once and hold onto forever. Maybe it’s something you recognize in moments, in people, in places, in versions of yourself.

Sagres allowed me to slow down and feel at home.

Kike encouraged me to keep pushing.

And somewhere along the way, I realized I don’t need to have it all figured out just yet.