The Traveller

Once upon a time, there was a traveller. The traveller travelled all over the world. From Bangkok to Calgary the traveller travelled and saw the sights and was content with how much they had travelled. But one day, the traveller thought, "maybe it's about time for me to settle down in one place. I've seen them all, so let me choose my favorite and go live there!" So the traveller travelled to Japan, and found a beautiful house by a beautiful lake. But the traveller was not happy there. The lake brought too many mosquitos and the traveller got malaria and almost died. So the traveller moved, naturally. This time, the traveller found a house in Egypt. It was just the right temperature even in the hot desert sun. But, unfortunately, the traveller was constantly getting sunstroke when they left the thouse and almost died. So the traveller moved again. The traveller next found a village along the Amazon River that they had visited once before. The people welcomed the traveller back with open arms, and the traveller was happy. Until McDonald's came and started tearing down the forest around them, displacing that village and 126 others. The traveller had no choice but to move. The traveller found a number of places to stay that weren't satisfactory or healthy. The traveller found houses in The USA, but the systemic racism scared the traveller away eventually. Then it was Turkey, and then Greece, and then Hungary. But the traveller found the same refugee problem all over, and did not want to live around people who don't want to help refugees. The traveller travelled to South Africa, but the lions that roamed the streets were far too scary. Almost as scary as the racist people hiding in the crevices of the suburban facade and the terrible state of the local currency. The traveller travelled to the DRC, but that didn't last long. Need I explain this one?
Anyway, the traveller finally decided that the place to live would have to be somewhere quiet, and stable, and healthy, and not racist, and friendly. The traveller decided to try Swaziland. I mean, they had been there once for this half naked people festival and the weed was apparently very good. So the traveller found a place in Swaziland, and decided that this was the place for them, as long as they didn't have unprotected sex and didn't piss off the authorities, the traveller would survive. So the traveller stayed longer than they had stayed anywhere else. And told stories of all the places that they had been and things that they'd seen and the like to the children at the school that they taught at. One day, one child in the class nasked the deepest question of the traveller's life. "Comrade Traveller," because the traveller was a communist, "What have you learned from all your travels?" The traveller was shocked. They had never thought about what they had learned from their time on the road, only seeing and experiencing. But there was this one thing that always resonated within the traveller's mind when they travelled. So the tired traveller, sitting on the floor amongst the students said;
"Listen closely my children. Travelling is fun and all, and you see things and experience things you would never see if you were in one place. But nothing will ever, EVER be better than home." And just then, the traveller stood up and left. The students never saw the traveller again, but the children can still remember the look on the traveller's face as they left. It was a look of happiness. And they were sure that the traveller was going home.