When does travel become life?

Travelling...or unpacking?

After my first Christmas here in Australia (and my friend and fellow Vagablogger Colleen’s first Christmas in Korea), I started reflecting on what makes someone a longterm traveler vs an expat: when have you stopped traveling somewhere and started living there?  I know for me, what I enjoy the most about going to another place is developing the little mundane details of everyday life…finding the laundromat, being recognized in the coffeeshop, getting a library card.  Those things thrill me, but they’re more tools of life somewhere than of traveling there.  But since long-term travel might mean you spend a year or more in each place you go…do you ever feel like you’re not traveling anymore, you’re just living?  Can I legitimately consider myself a Vagabonder as opposed to a serial expatriate?