-The In-Between- Is a life on the road a life without a home?
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As a frequent traveller and explorer, living abroad has become a kind of home for me: my in-between place.
Whenever I live abroad, I am usually not fully integrated into the new place yet, but also no longer completely rooted in the one I came from. My life over the past years has existed in that space between worlds — between cultures, between physical places, between land and sea, between languages, and between identities.
At home in Austria, I am the somewhat exotic marine biologist who has lived in several countries and loves the ocean despite growing up in a landlocked country. I am also the rational, independent, and strong woman who follows the Austrian lifestyle of focusing on work and studies.
Abroad, I become something slightly different. Here I am the teacher, a biologist, and the “one who travelled to the edge”, as my grandmother likes to call me.
Still, I realized that a part of me is not fully met in Vienna: my emotional, sensitive, ocean-adjacent self. That part of me seems to appear and breathe more freely in places like Lisbon, Istanbul, or Dahab.
In Istanbul, I can openly show affection and a love for connection, and people usually receive this happily. In Dahab, I can spend days and nights underwater, and there are always people around who share the same fascination for the sea. In Lisbon, I can appreciate culture while living close to the beach, and allow myself to move more into my emotional and playful side.
Even though all the places I have lived in or travelled to have been wonderful experiences, I often notice the same underlying feeling: I am always in-between.
The Austrian. The marine biologist who speaks foreign languages and scuba dives. But also the early-career scientist woman who dances Salsa and Forró, African dances, and plays drums
My home is not one physical place — it is a state. Some call this limbo. Some call it rootless. Others might say it is simply escaping responsibility.
But for me it is something else: I do not belong to one single place. I belong where I can connect deeply with people or nature. I belong where I can work in or for nature. I belong to places where rhythm exists — dance, drumming, music. I belong to communities with laughter, empathy, and support.
And since my time in Istanbul, I have also discovered another place where I belong: spaces of artistic expression. Galleries, museums, colorful walls, creative environments. Art is another way of moving emotions. Dancing to music, playing instruments, allowing yourself to be seen and perceived — these are things I learned in Istanbul.
That discovery became another pillar in my life.
For a long time I was a very rational, left-brained scientific mind, trying to control and understand everything through scientific explanations and logic. Now I am gradually integrating the other side of myself — the emotional, intuitive, and creative side of the brain. Another in-between.
I now prefer places that nourish my emotional and creative side, instead of environments driven purely by logic. I connect with people on the dance floor without having intellectual conversations first. I prioritize social life and human connection over purely professional success.
But I also carry with me what I learned in my academic training: stay curious, do not follow blindly, evaluate with your mind, and remain detail-oriented.
Once again — an in-between.
Another tension I often feel is the one between structure and freedom. Part of me enjoys the freedom of moving between countries, projects, and communities. But another part of me sometimes longs for structure, stability, and a place where things are simply settled.
Living in the in-between means constantly navigating this balance.
But how exactly does it feel to live in between worlds? Exciting and exhausting at the same time. Happy and sad on some days. Challenging and rewarding on others.
There are days when I feel deeply grateful for this lifestyle. And there are days when I simply want to go home and not have to figure out everything again.
When I am in Vienna, I start missing travelling and living abroad. But when I am abroad, the idea of coming home suddenly feels comforting again.
In Portuguese there is a beautiful word for this feeling: Saudade — the sensation of missing something or someone without fully knowing what exactly it is.
This feeling also appears in my professional life: When I worked as a researcher, my intellectual side was stimulated, but my emotional and social side often felt undernourished. When I work as a teacher, I enjoy spending time with children and feel emotionally fulfilled, but after a while I begin to miss intellectual exchange again.
Another in-between.
Interestingly, in marine ecosystems the most productive environments often exist in transition zones.
Coral reefs, estuaries, mangroves, and tidal flats are places where different worlds meet — land and sea, fresh water and salt water, stability and constant change.
These ecosystems are dynamic, sometimes unstable, but incredibly rich in life. Perhaps living in-between is something similar. Not a lack of belonging, but a different type of ecosystem. A space where different identities, cultures, emotions, and ways of thinking meet.
Anthropologists call such phases liminal spaces — periods in which someone stands between identities, between stages of life, between worlds.
Maybe that is exactly where I am. Not completely rooted in one place, but learning how to build bridges between many. Connecting with people, places, and Myself - a connection that has flourished recently.
