While travelling around Japan, I had to write down my ‘home’ address practically every time I checked into accommodation, as well as most instances when I had to fill out paperwork. While I did not have to write down my ‘home’ address quite as often during my two-month return trip to Taiwan or my two-week trip to Hong Kong, it was something which still came up (such as when applying for hiking permits).
The only address I could fill out was my parents’ address in San Francisco, since that is the only physical address which is a reliable means of reaching me. Filling out my address in Taoyuan would be pointless since I no longer rent that apartment.
It got especially bizarre when a post office in Naha insisted that I write both a ‘to’ and a ‘from’ address, and said that the ‘from’ address should be ‘my’ address. I pointed out that the ‘to’ address was in fact ‘my’ address and that it makes no sense for the ‘to’ and ‘from’ addresses to be identical. I eventually persuaded them to let me list the post office as the ‘from’ address.
People often ask me where I am from, and I reply ‘San Francisco’, and sometimes they reply ‘oh, what do you do in San Francisco?’
Well, ever since I have started this blog, I have not even been in North America, let alone that address in San Francisco.
Even though that is the address I use for paperwork, I do not live there right now, nor in Taoyuan. So where do I live? Wherever I am at the moment.
In a way, I am a drifter now, albeit with the privilege of a ‘permanent’ address, which sets me apart from many other drifters.
And why is having a ‘permanent’ address so special? I suspect that, among other things, by having an ‘address’ (albeit one where I have not been physically present for years), I can prove I am an addressed person, rather than one of those other people. And this can be a tool of oppression – for example, homeless people trying to go to state universities sometimes have trouble proving that they are eligible for in-state tuition because they do not have an address.
I suppose that the place where I sleep – wherever it is – is also my home, albeit temporarily. I am turning quite a few corners of Northeast Asia into my home in this manner. Right now, I am editing this post in Bifuka.
And I am learning not to get too attached to my ‘home’. I can thank a place for being my ‘home’, and let it go, knowing that there are other ‘homes’ for me in the world. I feel quite comfortable with having said goodbye to Taoyuan, and I suspect that, should I ever need to say goodbye to San Francisco forever, it would be possible to do it in a peaceful way (assuming the circumstances of the departure were peaceful).