I love to travel for 7-8 months.
It's long enough to get really home sick whilst still having a huge break from my normal life, which I need often.... Not that I have a terrible home-life. It's actually very comfortable. It's just monotonous and unadventurous.
In the first few weeks, everywhere I like, I think:
"Oh man, I could totally live here". And I make little plans how to do it in my head etc.
As the weeks go by I think
"This is really nice, I'd love to 'come back' here"
Months later I'm like "This is okay. But I really want a bag of hot chips on a wet Wirral beach.
At the end of the trip, I'm torn in half. I usually love where I am. (A beach in South Africa or in the Mountains of Colombia etc.) But I'm pretty home sick too.
I miss English butter on Crusty Brown bread. I miss bacon butties whilst looking out of my kitchen window and I miss supping cold

s with my mates in the garage, tinkering with bikes...
I think the real trick is to keep moving. Don't grow moss.
Whatever the rolling motion has to be.
Obviously the dream would be to spend the year travelling and half the year at home in the U.K but my lottery numbers have still not come though...