Have you ever had the roof in your home leak really badly? It’s pretty stressful, right? Every time it rains you freak out a little. And that constant worry about how much it will cost to fix!
Now imagine the leak is right next to your bed. And it splashes all over the place even if you put a bucket underneath it. Your slippers are wet, your walls are wet, the paint is starting to peel off, everything is damp. And you have no heater to dry stuff off. And it keeps raining really, really hard, like buckets of water coming out of the sky.
One of my favourite things about travelling is how easily you make close friends with the right people in this environment. Travelling the way we travel, living in a van and leading an essentially dirtbag lifestyle, brings us in contact with like-minded people and we just…click.
Living and travelling the world in a van while climbing at some of the most famous destinations across the globe…what could possible be better?
Having this freedom and opportunity is a massive privilege, and that’s something I never let myself forget. But vanlife, like any other form of travel, doesn’t come without its own difficulties. It may be a dream come true, but it isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, just like any other form of travel.
The reality is, travel can be lonely, travel can be disorientating, travel can make you feel insecure and confused about the future. People rarely write about it, but like any other reality, travelling is bittersweet.
A couple of weeks ago we really slowed down from our already pretty slow lifestyle. We went to visit our good friends Anna and Lukas in their family holiday home in Alsace – a green and hilly French region close to the German border.
This house is a real hidden gem. Nestled in the midst of a thick forest, it is only accessible via a narrow and bumpy dirt track, on which our Ford Transit nearly bottomed out. The building is off the grid. It is powered by batteries and a generator, with a boiler heating up the water, but has no central heating or electricity. Which meant fires every night for warmth and small battery powered lights to get around at night.
The last couple of weeks since we moved to Chulilla have been as full of sunshine as the two weeks prior to it were soaked with rain, and once again I feel like I’m on holiday, even while working. My mood has been lifted to such an extent that I deleted the very gloomy post I started writing in Siurana, which now sounded far too depressive.