A year later...

Well, a bit more than a year. We moved. To Australia.

Sydney Harbour from the National Park by the old Quarantine Station

Emigrating is a big and strange and wonderful and terrifying process that I may or may not write about. Some things are easier to communicate with a little distance. Perhaps now we are settling into our new lifestyle.

Knowing me, that is going to take a while longer. Do all humans seek drastic change and then freak out when they get what they were looking for?

I vaguely recall (I use that phrase a lot, there is so much trivia floating around in my head) reading about how evolution required two types of risk management for the human race to be so successful. Risk-averse, to stay home, get the next generation going, stick to the safe berries and risk-loving, the ones who explore and expand territory, knowledge, and occasionally get blown up or eaten in the process.

I'm considering there may be a third group, which might even comprise the majority of our species. We think that risk is interesting and attractive, we want to go on adventures.

Then when we get there, we can't wait to be home again, back in our zones of comfort and safety and "the known".

Hmm. Not what I was expecting to blog about. Now, blogging without constantly editing what's coming out of my brain for relevance and correctness? There's an adventure.