Exactly two weeks after leaving Dubai, how does it seem looking back? For a start there’s the rather odd sensation that I don’t really miss it, and it wasn’t really that hard to leave the city. I had amazing friends, a beautiful apartment, and an easy life, but I think there was something about me that never attached itself to the place. It quickly felt small, familiar, and a place for a limited range of experiences. I can’t say I plunged into it, but if I’d stayed on a few more years I’m not sure what more I would have learned or experienced. Perhaps five years of the same thing and I could have bought a Porsche and had a rippling six pack, but there’s not so much appeal in that. For me, West Africa is exhilarating and exciting in a way that I never found in Dubai.

Part of me thinks that Dubai never fitted into my long-term objectives. There wasn’t a click. Even the experiences I had were always related to West Africa – comparing and contrasting it with the former place. I don’t regret going, and yes I was happy, really happy. I grew personally and professionally, becoming a better writer and editor.

For all the hype and glamour, the best thing about Dubai was the people I got to know there. Wonderful families with caring parents, grandparents, and work colleagues. I saw more role models there that will help guide my thinking about being a father than I’ve met for a long time. People who had an influence on me, and I hope will continue to be part of my life. I found more people ‘like me’ than I have for years.

After graduating from university in 2001 I moved city every year until 2008 (Abidjan). I learned techniques to get settled quickly, get involved, and then pull-out. What you’re left with is a trail of friends around the world. In some ways, you’ve betrayed people by leaving – you were a wandering soul, someone who preferred to move for work than stay for the people. Of course in some places that’s easier than others – among ex-pats on Africa, no-one’s there to stay so people aren’t so hurt when you leave. Things are a little different in a regular UK city.

Sometimes, especially with the deep friendship I experienced in Dubai, it feels like a tearing of the soul. You wonder if it’s worth investing again. I’ve been in Freetown less than two weeks, but in four years I probably won’t be here (or will just be packing my bags). What friends will I be waving goodbye to then?

But I tend to be more of an optimist. Returning to West Africa I realise I have a lot of connections in this region – relationships that I’ve invested in and which are still there. Some friends in Abidjan say it’s like I never left, because of exchanges on social media. We can call and SMS, share life experiences. There’s a magic about now in being able to be in the remotest part of Africa and call anyone you’ve ever known who’s still alive. Whatsapp is incredibly popular here in Sierra Leone, something unthinkable five year ago.

Do the wanderers ever settle? And perhaps more importantly, do our children ever have a concrete concept of home? The virtual world really does bridge geographic divides, and almost every day I chat with my wife, and two step-daughters – each in a different country, and spread over three continents. And then every now and again will come the meet-up – that moment in another foreign city where you embrace and say ‘how amazing to see you?’ And travel becomes less about seeing tourist sites, and more about visiting long-lost companions. I think that’s a rich life.