Home is where the heart is
Buying a Oaxacan rug was the tipping point.
My husband John and I had been living out of suitcases since we sold our home in Alexandria, Virginia in 2014, and we'd embraced the notion of experiencing the world through other places and other people's possessions - from a last-minute, bargain balcony cabin on a Mediterranean cruise ship to a snug cottage on Scotland's Isle of Skye.
But after an initial month-long sojourn in the Mexican colonial town of San Miguel de Allende, we found ourselves returning for stays that became progressively longer. We were seduced by a vibrant culture, the warmth and friendliness of both locals and fellow expats, the nearly perfect weather and a full docket of creative, curiosity-provoking programs and events that prompted one friend and longtime resident to dub San Miguel a "summer camp for baby boomers."
So when I admired the sunset-hued rug and met its maker during a visit to the Oaxacan weaving village of Teotitlan de Valle last winter, I didn't think about the impracticality of schlepping it from one rental to another. I only imagined how handsome it would look on a Mexican tile floor - in a house of our own.
Today, I'm convinced we have the best of all worlds. We found an already-furnished home on a quiet callejon about a five-minute walk from San Miguel's heart, El Jardín, and plan to rent or exchange it with fellow vagabonds while we continue to hit the road for half a year. The Oaxacan rug now has a place of honor near our front door - as does a Mexican tin shadow box I'd tucked into my carry-on a year earlier.
"Tu hogar es donde esta tu corazon," it reads. And yes, our hearts have led us home.