I didn't expect a lot of this year to be interesting to write about. The longer I spent abroad, the more this specific post grew in my mind; homecoming as something substantial, something that *would* be interesting to write about. After all, this is what gave the last five-ish posts & last two-ish weeks of adventure their name. I didn't feel like I was home until I landed at Pearson. The last time I was at Pearson was September. I was finally in an airport that felt familiar. Then I started seeing streets that I remembered, landmarks that I hung out at, and finally, people that I had spent my first 18 years or so with. After giving my parents a heart attack, with the surprise homecoming that I had managed to keep a secret, we celebrated by going to hotpot. In some ways, the familiarity of home is overwhelming, like when the entirety of your pillow and bed is warm, and there's no cool spot to rest. When I was young (likely nine or ten, definitely no more than 11) I met a 17 year old who told me his time was primarily spent eating at Toronto places from his "list", which was just an absurd litany of blogTO and word-of-mouth recommendations.[^blogto] At the time, I couldn't understand the appeal. Then, mostly because I had to learn to drive, my mom and I started driving to restaurants all over the city. I realised that Toronto was the best food city in the world.[^1] And so, that was what I did at home to find cool spots. Each time I come home now, there's been some change that leaves me unsure with what life will be like. At this point, I had finished up (essentially) the gap year. Maybe part of staying out was a fear of reaching this point. At the same time, fearing anything coming to an end at 18 is ridiculous. I think I could have done more — just like anything else. Coming home, more than anything, helped me see how the same environments can be explored differently, and navigated with a different sort of internal feeling — no matter how invisible. Or, it's also shown how the gap year lifestyle can be addicting, because I booked last-minute tickets to London just a few days later. [^1]: In order for this claim to be true, you have to (a) ignore cost as a factor (b) look only at the top ~10% of restaurants (c) forget about NYC, Bangkok, Japan, France, Italy, Kuala Lumpur, Taipei, and probably other places I'm forgetting & will readily admit to being better than Toronto. [^blogTO]: Think if you invented a publication that *really* wanted to be like the Times in how they influence restaurant choices, but just fell kind of short. Sorry, blogTO. But also, you think some of the best Chinese food is in Yorkville? You do have some good takes though!