When I was younger, every few years I would quit my job, throw on a backpack and hop on a plane, returning months later with empty pockets but many stories to tell. Back at home, I’d swap my threadbare sneakers for steel-toed boots, labouring on building sites to earn a quick buck until I scored another job in journalism, eventually taking off again when my feet got itchy.
To some, this might seem like a vicious cycle, but I saw it as a virtuous one. Travel wasn’t just a way of learning about the world and having fun, I figured, it also helped me become a better version of myself. On the road, I was braver. I took risks I wouldn’t take at home. The triumphs of travel were more meaningful, the challenges easier to bear.
Travel wasn’t just a way of learning about the world and having fun, it also helped me become a better version of myself
Travelling triggers in me a feeling that I’ve never experienced at home. There’s a unique sense of exhilaration, ease and contentment that I’ve felt in all sorts of situations overseas: staying with a family in a village high in the Himalayas; dancing in the cobblestoned streets of the Pelourinho; sharing Christmas dinner cooked over campfire under the stars in Ethiopia.
Drawn to this feeling and the experiences that come with it, I kept repeating the loop of travel-save-travel. When faced with the societal pressure to settle down and save money to buy a home, I swatted it away and planned my next trip.
Enjoying a home brew called ‘talla’, in Lalibela, Ethiopia. Source: Supplied
Two months before I turned 32, I quit another media job and bought a one-way ticket to Nepal, where I met my wife-to-be at a village teahouse in the mountains. We bonded over a shared love of South America, swapping tales about boozy nights of broken Spanish and breathless hikes in the Andes.
A few years and several overseas trips later, when she was pregnant with our son, we decided to hit the road again. She left her role as a management consultant and gave up her maternity leave; I quit my job as a producer on my favourite television show, leaving yet another gap in my CV. As the bump started to show, we headed to Europe for a prolonged sojourn, living with locals as we worked on farms in Italy, picking olives, making cheese and drinking vino as we headed north to visit friends in Switzerland and France.
At times, travelling with a toddler was hard work, and yet, the experience was every bit as rewarding as we’d hoped
We did it again when my wife was pregnant with our daughter, touring New Zealand for three months from north to south, working on farms with our son by our side, learning new skills and making new friends along the way. At times, travelling with a toddler was hard work, and yet, the experience was every bit as rewarding as we’d hoped. We landed back in Australia feeling relaxed about our chosen path, looking forward to many new journeys in the years to come.
Things started to shift when our daughter was born. Needing more space, we let go of our apartment near the city and rented an old timber cottage at the farthest edge of Sydney – just a stone’s throw from the coast.
Menios’ wife Erin (on the right) cutting bread for the olive pickers’ lunch, Palombara Sabina, Italy. Source: Supplied
Living in a big house and surrounded by natural beauty and friendly neighbours, I had finally stumbled upon something like the sense of contentment and ease I’d previously felt while travelling. Over the past few years, due in part to the pandemic but also by choice, we’ve only taken our little family overseas once. We’ve still sought out adventure and spent plenty of time on the road, but the flaky and flighty parts of us have mostly taken a back seat, opening us to the novel idea of putting down roots.
When it comes to travelling, my only regret is not doing more of it
All that said, the decisions my wife and I made in our 20s and 30s have not been without consequences. Those choices have made it harder for us to afford a home now, in our 40s, when owning seems like the only sane option.
Which brings me to the question: If I could turn back time, would I change anything? Would I resist the urge to travel and instead put all my money and energy towards entering the property market?
The short answer is no. When it comes to travelling, my only regret is not doing more of it.
Sometimes I think about the friends who were more sensible than I was, who smartly snapped up a small apartment when they were younger so they could ‘get a foot in the door’. What if I had done the same? What if I had listened to those who said I was crazy to quit a well-paying job in my 30s and go travelling for a year, using up all my savings, right down to the last dollar?
Menios playing cricket with local kids in Varanasi, India. Source: Supplied
If I had never bought that ticket, I would now own a home. But it’s also just as likely that I would never have met my wife
In all likelihood, if I had never bought that ticket and instead kept saving, I would now own a home. Maybe even an investment property or two. But it’s also just as likely that I would never have met my wife, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
There are those who say that success in the housing market is all about the right timing, and perhaps the same can be said about life and family. My wife and I met because we were in the right place at the right time, and that might never have happened if we didn’t act on our urge to travel. We might be late bloomers when it comes to owning a home, but maybe that’s just because for us, the ‘right time’ has yet to come.
