I feel like I'm home. It's weird to be in a foreign country and get that feeling. Where you know exactly where you are going and how things are going to work out before you even get off of the plane. There is a pre established routine that comforts you and some other small reminder that you are home. For some people this sensation may only be for one place. But for me I have 4 places in 3 countries that will always give me this sensation.

Obviously, flying into LAX gives me that feeling because, well, I am going home. But it always seems to hit me once I get picked up. The reason being my mother, she almost always picks me up from the airport with eyes watering. It's just one of the most comforting sights to see, and especially because it just means that I'm done doing anything for the rest of the trip home. Mom scoops me up, we might stop by Taco Bell and then we drive straight home. I look forward to that in a week an a half.

Hawaii also has this sensation. I was born there and lived there for 6 years, so that shouldn't be enough, it's the smells. To be honest, I don't have too many memories from my early days in Hawaii: a green bike that I'd ride everywhere (and crash once, successfully, and frighten my parents horribly), a enormous leather football, some friends, and the smell of ginger. I guess that last one isn't a memory, but something that permeates through all of my memories like the red clay in Hawaii. But it is what most reminds me of Hawaii because there are so many leis and flowers around, the smell hangs thick in the air. It's almost visable, like a pleasant smoke. One of the few smells that I can imagine clearly and it's definitely my favorite and most comforting. So naturally, I feel alright at Honolulu Airport.

Ireland. I know that I'm a mongrel, my blood so mixed that it's probably brown, but for some reason I really identify with my Irish heritage. Partly due to my surname, Murphy, and partly because my grandfather (from whom I inherited my first name, Breene) has been such an important part of my life. There's probably more reasons, but as soon as I saw all the green hills, leaning next to the Atlantic I had that rush of going home, in spite of never visiting Ireland prior.

Lastly is Chile. I think this place has been a more earned position than the rest. There wasn't any instant connection with Chile. When I first flew in, I was overwhelmed with trepidation, for I was embarking on a nine month journey. But I grew a confidence and an understanding of spanish and I flew in and out of the Santiago Airport many times in my stay here, and it became routine. Eventually the lilting accent of Chilean spanish put me to ease. Just hearing all the "sípo," "nopo," "cachai" and "huevon" bubble through the air made me think of the family that I somehow earned down here. I will think of Pati, and her sailor's mouth, from which I have learned more curses than I will ever know what to do with. I think of Pati Sue and Pati Paz and their incessant banter and play, like two puppies. Of Claudio and Pato, who will always be the first to sing karaoke with you. I love all the people at the school.

It's weird having earned a spot here. Like Hawaii/California I was just born into that. And Ireland, is just heritage. I had no prior connection to Chile, and yet, it holds as much importance, maybe more, than all of them except California. It's crazy to think of it, but it gives me confidence that I could make my home anywhere I want (providing there is surf, of course).

I do wish that Chile was closer because it pains me to think that I could only have two or three weeks to travel a year and that doesn't seem like nearly enough time here. But that gives me extra motivation to have my project in Canada work out. I've got to think that being a writer affords way more free time than a normal job.

I'm just going to have to enjoy this time, enjoy my time back in California and maybe I'll create another place of comfort if/when I go to Canada.