Being with Bruno’s family this past week brought me back to another recent family trip that I haven’t yet had a chance to blog about: our three-RV road trip to Nova Scotia, Canada!

An epic three-RV roadtrip!

After hitting it off in France and Morocco, Bruno’s brother, sister-in-law, and niece decided to make the trip to Canada this past July to visit my parents.  Once we caught word of their plans, we decided to get in on it (how could we not?!?).  In fact, joining our families was the reason we embarked on our cross-Canadian road trip!

By the time we arrived, Bruno’s family had already seen Niagara Falls, a bit of New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island.  We’d made it in time for their 9-day RV adventure through Nova Scotia.  Back in Morocco, Bruno and I had done an RV road trip with my parents, but this was our first time traveling as three vehicles.  Without a doubt, it was an unforgettable (if logistically challenging) experience!

Our itinerary for our 9-night RV road trip through Nova Scotia, Canada.

An unforgettable time with family!

Our primary destination was Nova Scotia’s famed Cape Breton Island, so for that reason we spent our first night just before the bridge to Cape Breton, in Havre Boucher.  There was something special about that first stop which had nothing to do with the campground itself, but more to do with the coming together of our three vehicles and the kick-off of this much-anticipated trip.  Everything was new to us all – the way we’d set our vehicles up in a campground to maximize common space, the excitement of sitting out on camping chairs and enjoying the afternoon, the rhythm of our rituals.

Bruno and I had arrived several hours before our families, so we prepared a huge welcome dinner.  Cooking for seven was quite the endeavour – and one that we never could have managed in Totoyaya – but in Big Blue we had ample space (indeed, later in our trip, we would be up to four people in Big Blue’s kitchen chopping and sautéing and baking away!).

Sitting around enjoying our camping chairs at our first campground, just after setting up camp.

Our first camping dinner, prepared by yours truly.

Four bodies cooking comfortably in Big Blue – what a feat!

Welcome to Cape Breton!

The following morning we made for Cape Breton and the little town of Baddeck.  Some of mom’s ancestors were from here, so she has memories of spending summers at the local beach.  Boy, had the town changed since she’d last been!  It’s now a hopping tourist town with ice cream and knick-knack shops, boat rides off the pier, and nightly ceilidhs.

A ceilidh is a traditional Scottish social gathering, a kitchen party of sorts, with Scottish music and dancing (and, traditionally, drinking!).  I love fiddle music and was dying to take part in one, so jumped at the first opportunity.  I’m so glad we did – the ceilidh ended up being one of my favourite parts of our entire road trip!  The two musicians, red-headed sisters from the other side of the island, were fantastic, and they duelled and talked and danced their way through a captivating fiddle and piano performance.  My dad and I even got up and learned a little Scottish square dance!  Cape Breton is most famous for its Gaelic roots, and here in Baddeck we first witnessed its cultural richness.

The following morning, on our way out of Baddeck, my parents opted to stop at the local cemetery to find my great-grandmother’s grave.  The afternoon before, mom had gone to the town’s historical society to enquire as to where she might have been buried and learned much more – the lady remembered Frieda and talked about how wonderful a music teacher she (and her son) had been.  She even gave mom an old black and white photo of Frieda, all dressed up in her Sunday best.  A very special encounter, and a sign that Baddeck was still the tight-knit community it had once been.

Ice-cream refuel in Baddeck.

The two wonderfully-talented sisters performing traditional Scottish jigs at a ceilidh.

Dad and I learned some Scottish square dancing.  You can tell he’s having fun!

Visiting my great-grandmother’s grave in Baddeck.

Most people come to Cape Breton to drive the Cabot Trail, a 300km scenic loop along the northern tip of the island.  We didn’t want to miss it, either – nor did we want to miss Cape Breton Highlands National Park, which encompasses a good section of the Cabot Trail.  And so we stopped, on Day 3, at the Broad Cove Campground on the eastern side of the park.  And it was just the type of campground Bruno and I like – spread out and surrounded by nature.

We decided to do exactly what people do when they camp in parks.  First we followed a nearby hiking trail to a spectacular viewpoint of the park (the views of boreal forest, rugged and mountainous coastline, and deep blue water are quintessential Cabot Trail views and we would spend the following day stopping and admiring as many of them as possible).  Then, we came back to the campground fora barbecue and bonfire.

Hiking up to a viewpoint in Cape Breton Highlands National Park.

Admiring the views along the Cabot Trail.

A quintessential camping experience: a barbecue/bonfire!

We held up the rear of the convoy along the Cabot Trail.

And we stopped A LOT to take in all the wonderful views!

Eating proved to be something we would do much of and probably my favourite ritual of our road trip (this is probably not surprising to those who know me).  In the evening, we always cooked up a feast that we would share on picnic tables between our RVs.  During the day, we would find scenic spots to pull over and picnic.  This is not an easy feat when you’re three large vehicles, but, thanks to Bruno’s experienced eye, we almost always managed a very lovely spot.  One of my favourite was on Day 4, near the NE side of the national park, at a picnic table right along a lovely pebble beach.

One of my favourite lunch picnic spots.

Another really lucky lunch picnic find.

Post-lunch digestion stroll.

There were a few small disappointments on Day 4, however.  Bruno’s family had opted to try whale watching that morning in Ingonish; they joined us at our lunchtime picnic having seen nothing more than seals.  I knew that whale watching in Cape Breton wasn’t nearly as sure of a bet as in Quebec’s St. Lawrence River (where Bruno and I had successfully whale-watched a few weeks earlier), but I still felt badly for our guests.

The other disappointment was the Cabot Trail’s infrastructure.  There was so much construction throughout the national park section of the trail that it was not fun to drive.  Much charm was lost because of the dust, noise and trucks, and the notoriously-dangerous road became treacherous.  It took us so long to drive through the park that we didn’t have time to hike the infamous Skyline Trail, and we only reached our campground in Cheticamp near nightfall.  At least the boys did have time for a dip in the ocean before another wonderful campground picnic!

Bruno’s family on a whale-watching trip.

Bruno wasn’t brave enough to join our other boys in the water. Too bad for him!

Day 5 was slightly disappointing as well, but in a funny and ironic sort of way.  On this day we drove from Cheticamp to the other side of the island, to Mira River Provincial Park near Louisbourg.  After another fantastic lunchtime picnic spot, we arrived at the provincial park late afternoon.  It was, yet again, the type of campground Bruno and I totally get down with, and I could have seen us spend a couple days there enjoying the nearby river and the nature peace of the place.  Instead, we chose to quickly park our vehicles and drive 40 minutes on into Louisbourg, after having heard that there was both the Tall Ships Festival and the kick-off of their annual crab fest.

Sometimes there are those moments in travel when your timing is just off.  We arrived into town just as the Tall Ships had finished their open-house visits for the day, and the Crab Fest wasn’t due to start for a couple hours.  Louisbourg, itself, was so dead that it was almost like a ghost town!  We couldn’t even find a restaurant to sit down in for a drink or a bite to eat.  Suddenly, Crab Fest didn’t look too enticing, and we opted to head back to the campground.  It was 9pm and dark as blazes by the time we’d cooked up our campground dinner that night.

The Tall Ships festival in Louisbourg. I actually think we caught those same tall ships a few weeks early along the St. Lawrence in Quebec!

I wouldn’t have minded spending the afternoon at this campground!

The following day reversed our mini slump, though.  We visited the Fortress of Louisbourg, and it was just as interesting as the Acadian Historical Village Bruno and I had fallen in love with a few weeks earlier.  The seven of us were there the entire day, and hadn’t even visited the entire fortress by the time the place closed.  We’d witnessed the firing of muskets and canons in the re-enactment of military pageantry, heard fife music, watched the children’s dance, listened to First Nations stories, seen a public punishment, dined on traditional 18^th century food at the restaurant, and learned oh-so-much about life in the fortress from the costumed staff stationed in each building.  Oh, how I love these living museums!

Learning a lot from the interpreters at the Fortress of Louisbourg.

The children’s dance was one of many re-enactments at the fortress that day.

The Fortress of Louisbourg was well-worth a full day’s visit.

Several months earlier, mom had reserved spots for our three RVs in campgrounds around Nova Scotia.  She opted to do this because Nova Scotia in summer is very, very popular!  Even then, campgrounds (especially in parks) were full for our August dates, and mom wasn’t able to plan our itinerary exactly as she’d have liked.  For Bruno and me, it was simply a very strange experience to have an itinerary, to have to arrive at a particular destination on a particular date, and to be staying in jam-packed campgrounds every night.  But we understood mom’s decision, as every campground we stayed in was fully-booked and never could have accepted our convoy without prior reservation.

We learned that the hard way after visiting the Fortress of Louisbourg.  This was the only night mom hadn’t reserved a campground.  There was no space anywhere within an hour of Louisbourg so she’d opted to give us a bit of flexibility.  In reality, this meant a two-hour drive after a day of sightseeing to get back to Havre Boucher, on the other side of the Cape Breton bridge, because it was the only campground that had space.  This was not Bruno’s idea of a good time, but when you travel with others (and when you’re not in charge of your plans), you have to compromise.  We arrived at the campground well after dark and all fell into bed that night, but at least we were closer to our destination for the following day – the Peggy’s Cove/Lunenberg area, well past Halifax.

This allowed us several hours of sightseeing in Halifax, a must-see spot when visiting Nova Scotia.  It just so happened that the infamous Busker Festival was on!  I have memories of going to this festival as a child, so it was really cool to return with Bruno and his family.  The buskers were talented and entertaining – and, to top it off, their performances took place right along the wharf downtown, so we were able to simultaneously see the best and most beautiful of Halifax!  That was definitely another highlight of our road trip.

The Buskers’ Festival in Halifax.

Enjoying the afternoon along Halifax’ wharf.

Earlier in the day, we’d had our first bout of rain, and it had been so heavy I wasn’t sure we’d be able to take advantage of Halifax at all.  As such, I booked us in for lunch at one of my favourite restaurants – Envie, a tiny vegan restaurant in Halifax.  Since we were showing our Canadian culture to Bruno’s family, I figured a vegan restaurant fit the bill – French people definitely don’t have vegan food!  Everyone was mightily impressed that you can eat so deliciously without animal products!

Thankfully the weather cleared up, and, after checking out the buskers, we had a lovely, very quaint drive to Indian Harbour.  We got lucky at our campground and were given three side-by-side spots (the only time this happened) with a stupendous view of the ocean and the sunset.  Nova Scotia is almost entirely surrounded by water, so it was nice to be able to spend some time contemplating its beauty.

Yummy vegan food! And cultural, too (because, let’s face it, French people don’t have vegan restaurants)

We got three side-by-side spots!

And with a view of the water!

The next morning, we all wandered over to nearby Peggy’s Cove, a picturesque fishing village that was so adorable I wanted to eat it up.  The weather was gorgeously warm and sunny and we were headed for a two-night stay at Graves Island Provincial Park (hallelujah, two nights in a campground!), so after another charming coastal drive, we parked our vehicles and headed straight for an afternoon at the beach.

Peggy’s Cove, so adorable.

We are pretty adorable too, right?

And an afternoon at the beach! (I ALMOST made it into the water, too!)

I’m glad we got to take advantage of the campground itself, as that was one thing we hadn’t really had time to do.  A nine-day road trip to Nova Scotia isn’t nearly enough, and we’d packed our itinerary so fully that what was missing was downtime at the campground to enjoy camping.  At least that night we got to have another barbecue and bonfire.

I’m also glad we got to take advantage of the weather, because the following day (our last) it poured like nobody’s business.  We tried to visit Lunenberg, another picturesque (and historically important) port town, but it was so rainy that we were mostly only able to take cover in shops and a restaurant.  That night, still rainy at the campground, we packed ourselves into my parents’ RV for dinner and cards.  Their RV is pretty big, but it can’t exactly accommodate seven!  Thank goodness the weather had cooperated with us until that point, because picnics outside are a whole lot more comfortable!

Hanging out in my parents’ RV.

It’s definitely more fun (and comfortable) to eat outdoors.

The following day, we dropped off the rental RV in Halifax and headed home to New Brunswick for a final few days together before Bruno’s family returned to France.  I am so happy they decided to visit us in Canada, and grateful Bruno and I were able to join them on their Nova Scotia RV trip.  Bruno and I love traveling solo – the pace is definitely more to our liking! – but it’s absolutely wonderful to share the road with friends and family.  It shakes things up and creates a store of lifelong memories.  Between our RV trip in Morocco with my parents, our niece Lucile’s visit to Kenya, meet-ups with overlanding friends in Turkey, Sudan, and Spain, and my friend Sahnah’s visit to Morocco, the store of overland adventures with loved ones is getting mighty big… but there’s always room for more!

Feel free to take that as a hint.

It was a unique first impression of a unique couple, whose overland around-the-world journey we’ve had the fortune to follow.

Introducing Georgia and Nikos (near the beginnings of their overland around-the-world trip!)

It was Nikos that approached us at that campsite in Nairobi three years ago.  He was a passionate fan of Le Petit Prince (we’ve met several of them over the years, including, most recently, at a Lowe’s parking lot in Tucson!) and wanted to show Bruno his Petit-Prince necklace.  The two – obviously – hit it off.

Nikos and Georgia became friendly neighbours over the following few days.  We watched the bush babies jump from one tree branch to the next every evening.  We showed Georgia the interior of our vehicle (they slept in a rooftop tent and she was dreaming about a more comfortable future vehicle design).  One evening, they brought beer to share with us under our little awning, and we talked of travel and freedom and life.

I listened to them share the creative ways they’d managed to fund their travels through Africa, mostly by staying longer in each place, and occasionally of finding a volunteer or work exchange opportunity.  Not only had this helped them make their dream of long-term travel a reality, but it had clearly created meaningful connections and memories, and a deeper understanding of the places and people they visited.

The photo they snapped of Bruno, Totoyaya and I in the Nairobi campsite!

The bush babies we watched tree-hop every evening.

Though I didn’t know it then, Nikos and Georgia called this style of travel traveliving.

Our time with our new Greek friends was brief.  They had their visas for Ethiopia and Sudan, and would continue their journey northwards, towards Europe, toward home, and then, who knew?  Yet, as with most meaningful encounters during travel, they left a lasting impression on me (and Bruno on them – they forevermore have referred to him as their mentor!).  Not only did they share a similar passion for and style of travel, but they were the first young overlanders I’d met.

Perhaps this is why, over the past three years, I’ve kept in touch with our Greek travel buddies through email and their blog, The Pin Project.  I’ve followed along as they returned to Greece to make money and plan the next stage of their overland adventure (which involved trading in their Suzuki for a minivan).  I followed along as they took their new vehicle to Canada (my homeland!), and I pushed pins into my mental map of their journey as they’ve made their way slowly down the American continent.  Along the way, I’ve often asked them for tips and on-the-ground info, since they’re always a step or two ahead of our own overland journey!

Nikos and Georgia’s first vehicle, for the African portion of their trip.

And their second vehicle, for the American continent!

It was during one of those emails that Nikos announced to us that he was writing an e-book about overland travel, and asked for our feedback, editing skills, and photos of our beloved Totoyaya.  We’ve been pretty busy these past months with our bus conversion project, so I wasn’t able to contribute as much as I would have liked, but I still feel like I’ve witnessed the incredible amount of time, research, and hard work that Nikos has put into this book (which has me convinced that I won’t be writing my own anytime soon!).

My goal with this post, then, is more than simply to introduce another set of overlanders to you (which is something I’ve enjoyed doing on this blog here, here, and here): it is to support Nikos by sharing his personal contribution to our wider traveling community!

Introducing Nikos’ e-book: Traveliving: A Romantic and Practical Guide

Nikos’ new e-book, a comprehensive overlander’s guide.

It makes sense that Nikos would title his E-book, Traveliving – it is, after all, the term he coined to describe his traveling philosophy and style.  He and Georgia deliberately slow down and extend their stays in places so as to better understand and interact with a place and its people.  They are more interested in connection and understanding that in ticking items off a bucket list.  Traveling, for them, is a lifestyle (a mindset, even) rather than a trip with a set route and return date.  I’m pretty sure they plan to travel forever – or at least the foreseeable future.

This is also why they seek volunteer, work-trade, or working opportunities along the way.  By working along the way, they travel according to their values, but they also make their trip sustainable, from a financial aspect.  (In this way, they are similar to our overlanding friends, Phil and Angie, who do a lot of HelpXing, housesitting, and other random work-trades as a way to offset travel costs, connect with locals, and travel differently.)  Nikos and Georgia have done some of the most random jobs possible – from working at a cattle farm or fishing lodge to a doggy salon.

Volunteering in Zimbabwe.

Working at a lodge in Canada.

Written from the lens of a traveliver, most of Nikos’ e-book details the many aspects of how to live and travel this way.  This book is exhaustive, and I am very impressed that Nikos has described literally every aspect one should consider in preparing to live this way.  He details the following, using his own experience and that of others he has met along the way:

1)      Choosing your mode of transportation, with the largest section devoted to choosing and kitting out a vehicle

2)      Trip paperwork, bureaucracy and logistics

3)      Route planning, with lots of online resources and forums

4)      Financial planning

Cooking in their camper van.

The interior of their current home-on-wheels.

I think the practical stuff is the strength of the book.  The section of transportation alone is almost 100 pages long, and details every different type of possible road transportation, suggests considerations when making one’s choice and setting up the vehicle, and gives tons of personal tips from people who have actually made these choices (and lived with the consequences!).  He offers charts of all the possible gear you could/should buy for each mode of travel.

The section on finances and budgeting is especially encouraging for people who dream of traveling but don’t have passive income or tons of savings.  Nikos and Georgia travel on 500 euros/month (the amount they get from renting an apartment in Greece), and they describe very openly how they make this work for them.  They even provide detailed breakdowns of their pre-departure and travel expenses for each continent they’ve visited, and they give some tips on how to make money on the road.  Because finances have always been a struggle for them, I think they have become very well-educated on this topic, and they have a lot of light to shed in the pages of their book.

Their travels in the USA.

Their travels in North Africa.

This book is written by a traveler for anyone who wants to make long-term travel a part of their life.  I’d recommend it for someone curious about the lifestyle I describe on this blog, and especially for someone who is in the process of making this choice or is actively preparing/planning for an eventual departure.  Because of its exhaustive information and list of additional resources, I think it’s a great starting point for someone with little or no experience of long-term travel.

If you or anyone you know fits that bill, please do consider purchasing a copy of Traveliving: A Romantic and Practical Guide.  You can find out more, and order your copy, here.

Big congratulations, Nikos, for writing this e-book and offering a comprehensive practical contribution to the growing community of people wanting to live lives outside of the box!  We wish you and Georgia the best on your continued South American travels and beyond, and hope to meet face-to-face again someday!

Best wishes, and congratulations on your new e-book, Nikos and Georgia!

Dear Totoyaya,

This morning, you left us.  I watched you turn down the road and out of sight, and felt the gravity of what Bruno and I had done.  We had sold you, our beloved home-on-wheels of nineteen years.  The vehicle that had transported Bruno for 400,000km around the world, had brought him to me, and had taken me along for the ride these past almost-five years – you were gone.

Totoyaya’s new owner getting ready to drive her home.

Our last look at Totoyaya… snif.

What Totoyaya has always done best.

I remember the day I met you, parked in a haphazard camping along the coast of Mozambique.  You’re the reason I noticed Bruno, really.  Your bright Petit Prince paintings and your one-of-a-kind camper cell were hard not to notice.  You drew me to Bruno, and through you, I heard his story.  It was because of you that I decided to join him: There’s an extra seat for you, if you’d like, he had said to me.

I remember the first night I slept inside you, in Chinhoyi, Zimbabwe.  You were cozy and comfortable, like a mother’s arms.  I prepared dinner under the protection of your awning as though I’d never not cooked here.  I bumped along at a snail’s pace down the wavy dirt track to Mana Pools National Park.  It was hot and we had to keep the windows up to protect ourselves from the tsetses; you didn’t have luxurious seats or luxurious air-con, but for some reason, I was totally and utterly happy.

The first photo we have of Totoyaya and I, in Zimbabwe’s Mana Pools National Park.

There’s an extra seat… I took it!

It didn’t take me long to make myself at home in Totoyaya.

I loved you early on, Totoyaya.  How could I not?  You gave me experiences I had only ever dreamed of before – private safaris, wild camps on coconut-tree-lined tropical beaches, nights under the stars in the middle of sand dunes, impromptu picnics wherever we pleased.  You gave me my dreams on a platter, gift-wrapped with the comforts I’ve always appreciated, like sleeping in my own bed, unpacking, cooking.

Totoyaya brought us up-close with the wild animals of Africa.

Ok, fine, this beach (in Oman) wasn’t coconut-tree lined.

Sitting on a sand dune gazing at the Red Sea off the coast of Sudan.

Surprising visitors at our bush campsites.

Picnics wherevery we pleased. (Bruno is very proud of his omelette, but let’s be clear – I did 99% of the cooking!)

I respected you, too, Totoyaya.  I knew you were Bruno’s first love, and for good reason.  You were strong, reliable, sturdy.  You’d brought him to places to which regular vehicles couldn’t venture.  You promptly started every morning with a consistently robust hum.  You and Bruno had major history.  I may have been the new, younger woman in Bruno’s life, but you would always be the one he pampered.  I wasn’t even jealous – I knew you deserved his coddling.

Bruno pampering Totoyaya.

a beauty treatment for Totoyaya in Sudan.

So much history. This is Angola circa 2003.

And Gabon, 1998.

Bruno’s first snowstorm with Totoyaya didn’t happen until 2015!!

We got so much attention during our travels because of you.  Sometimes it was slightly embarrassing to turn so many heads, and sometimes we were too tired after a day’s drive to entertain the ogling of curious locals.  But mostly, your existence led to welcome – and sometimes serendipitous – encounters with people.  The photo shoots with gas station employees on the Arabian Peninsula and the dinner invites with expats in Dubai; the hospitality Bruno received at seemingly every stop in Iran; even our bizarre afternoon with the tourist collector of Tiwi made for an amazing travel memory.

Expats in Dubai stopped us so often we ended up writing our blog address on Totoyaya’s side!

Maasais in Kenya make friends with Bruno’s niece (and Totoyaya) when she visits us.

These gas station workers insisted on coming out for a visit and photo when we parked overnight at their station (in the U.A.E).

These Acadians saw our for-sale ad online and drove out to meet us (well, really, to meet Totoyaya!)

Even the strange encounter with this guy in Oman created an amazing travel tale!

You took us on epic road trips.  Trail-blazing in Angola, off-roading through waist-high mud in Gabon, navigating through the high plains of Mongolia and Siberia, testing obscure and undocumented border tracks in Zambia, even driving down Route 66 a few months ago.

Wading across streams? Ain’t no thing!

Rocky roads? No problem with low gear!

Epic road trips sometimes mean epic roads.

Or epic tracks.

You took us to camping spots of unparalleled charm and beauty.  Parked in the middle of a baobab island surrounded by a giant dried-up salt pan.  Preparing dinner by the Zambezi River while hippos waltzed by and hyenas scurried past and lions roared in the not-too-far distance.  Sleeping in the desert just beyond the ancient pyramids of Sudan.  Gazing out at the sunrise from a cliff overlooking the Turkish Mediterranean Sea.  Trying not to fall asleep on an isolated nesting sea turtle beach in Oman.  Snorkelling among the coral reefs in the sea just beyond our private coastal bush camp in Djibouti.  Nestling into the lush coolness of date-palm oases in Morocco.

Breakfast with the hot-air balloons in Capadoccia.

Camping along the northern Basque coast of Spain with overlanding friends.

One of my earliest campsites with Totoyaya, in Botswana.

Another Botswana campsite (there were so many amazing ones).

A monkey-filled campsite in Kenya.

Because of you, we got to give Bruno’s niece, Lucile, her first taste of international travel.  I welcomed my best travel buddy on a camping road trip through Morocco.  Most importantly, we were able to share the road with my parents, who rented an RV and followed us around Morocco for a few weeks.

Camper vanning in Morocco with my parents!

A visit from my best travel buddy and her tent!

Meeting up – and sharing the road with – fellow overlanding friends.

A visit to Kenya from Bruno’s niece.

When we visited the fjords of Oman’s Musandam Peninsula, you were there.  When we searched for whale sharks in Djibouti, you were there.  When I experienced my first U.S. National Park, you were there.  You were the third member in our company – Bruno, Brittany, and Totoyaya.

Three’s company, too.

In the salt pans of Djibouti, you were there.

In the tea fields of Burundi, you were there.

In the oases of Morocco, you were there.

Even though there came a time when our love affair became fraught with complicated mixed emotions, I can never forget all that you taught me.  To slow down.  To do less, be more.  To really see the world around me.  To appreciate the little things.  To de-clutter my life.  To re-evaluate my priorities.  To live life fully.  To love fiercely.  And that experiences are worth more than their weight in gold.

Bruno and I loving and living our dreams!

Slowing down, and watching the world go by.

Being curious about the world around us.

To never stop learning.

I knew it was time for us to part – and indeed, I have wanted it for the past year – but I didn’t expect it to hurt so much.  No one ever told me that to achieve new dreams, letting go of one’s old dreams would be so painful.  We had spent so much energy in recent months organizing a life for ourselves that didn’t include you.  So when I cleaned you up for the final time before our buyer came to pick you up, and the tears streamed down my face until I couldn’t see and I was bawling on your floor – my floor – until Bruno came and held me in his arms and cried too, I was dumbfounded.

How can a vehicle – a mere object – cause me so much sadness?

Bruno and Totoyaya, Totoyaya and Bruno. I can’t even separate these two in my mind.

Early on, we were three.

Never far from one another. I can’t even express how Bruno must be feeling right now.

But you’re more than just a vehicle, aren’t you?  You’re the place where I found my life partner.  You’re the home and the life we created together.  You’re the vehicle of our dreams – literally – because you are the means with which we have pursued our dreams.

This morning, as Bruno explained a few last-minute things to your new owner, all these thoughts came flooding through me.  This thought, too: this may be the last time I ever see you, ever touch you.

And so, I circumnavigated you, with fingers lightly caressing your smooth, familiar surface.  Each step, I paused, and quietly thanked you for the gifts you’d given me.  Those thank-yous aren’t nearly enough, but, along with this note, they’ll have to be.

Bruno giving a few last-minute instructions to Totoyaya’s new owner.

Surprise – the buyer actually ended up being our original, Bostonian, buyer!

Totoyaya, you’re on another road trip now toward your new home on the east coast of the United States.  You’re going to live with a really nice man, a Land Cruiser lover, and someone who will treat you well.  You’ll travel a bit – probably not as much as you traveled with us, but you’re getting old anyway and deserve a nice semi-retirement.  You’ll be pampered, for sure, and maybe even get a little makeover.  Your history will be honoured, we know.

Bruno handing over Totoyaya’s keys to her new owner.

We love you, Totoyaya, and always will.

And you’ll never – ever, ever, ever – be forgotten.  Our beloved, forever-in-our-hearts, Totoyaya.  Our home.  Our family.

We love you.

Brittany and Bruno

Totoyaya, our 1988 Toyota Land Cruiser BJ75 with custom camper box.

If you’ve been following Wandering Footsteps long enough, you know our beloved Toyota Land Cruiser BJ75, called Totoyaya, was up for sale last year (we wanted more space for a toilet, shower, and giant kitchen).  You might have wondered why, after posting the For-Sale ad online, I went radio-silent.

The reason is that Totoyaya got sold way back in August and I didn’t want to jinx things.

Things got jinxed anyway.

A lovely man from Boston jumped on the opportunity to buy our unique Land Cruiser.  He visited us in Montreal, gave us a deposit, and agreed to allow us to keep our home-on-wheels until we found a replacement vehicle.

As you all know, that process took much, much longer than expected.

When we finally found our big bus (which I promise I will formally introduce very soon on the blog!), we alerted our Boston buyer that we were ready to part with Totoyaya.  We’d been in touch with him all along these months, and he’d continually expressed 110% conviction that he still wanted the vehicle – but for whatever reason, he backed out at the last moment (it seems like it’s due to distance and bad timing).

So, folks, Totoyaya is back up for sale!  Read on for our formal For-Sale Ad:

The interior of the camper box. Shown are our permanent bed (120cmX190cm) with storage underneath and the Engel fridge.

We are able to fully stand up in our camper box.

View from the bed.

View of the bed frame with storage and window that looks out onto the vehicle’s cab.

View from box window of cab.

Cab, from driver’s seat. (Seat upholstry is in good condition because we use these African print covers to keep them clean).

1988 Toyota Land Cruiser BJ75 with Camper Box on Back

Location of Vehicle: Tucson, Arizona

Price: USD $13,000.

3B engine, LHD, H55 transmission, 24-volt system.

602,500km. No problem for few hundred thousand more because almost all kms in open spaces (Patagonia, Alaska, Sahara, etc.) so gear box hasn’t taken a beating.  This vehicle is in GREAT shape, and we have impressed more than one car-aficionado!

Seats two, according to current registration.

Vehicle registered in France but has been imported into the US (obtained a 7501 form).  The buyer is responsible for registering the vehicle in his or her state/country.

VIN# JT1VOBJ7509002306 (registered as “fourgon”, or van, not 4WD or RV.)

Camper van cell on back (made in December 2012): Aluminum/polyurethane 40mm-panels. Inside dimension: L 270cm X l 200cm X h 170cm. Permanent bed 190cm X 120cm.

Total weight 3.1 tons (less weight than original vehicle).

This cruiser fits in a high cube container (already done 2 trips inside HC container).

A series of photos of Totoyaya’s chassis and engine.

Sold with the following:

• 32 litres Engel fridge
• 24 volts ARB (CKMA24) compressor, (this cruiser is 24v) new from September 2015, never used…
• Reinforced suspensions
• Old Man Emu shock absorbers
• Firestone air suspensions (back)
• New roof Thule ventilator
• Big awning 3.5m long from Howling Moon South Africa
• Lots of Land Cruiser spare parts never use like relays, Edic system, motor fuel control, regulator, computer emission control, new original kit for rebuild the starter (no need to change it now, it starts without problem but just last year we were still on the way for a second trip around the world with Totoyaya so we took advantage to buy this kit when in Europe, hard to find after…), etc.
• Foam mattress 120x90cm

Air-conditioned powered by old R12 gas, you will have to change the gas.

Back tires need to be changed before driving the vehicle too far.

Selling for USD$13,500.

Arrived in Halifax, Canada, in August 2016.  Currently in Tucson, Arizona.

Bruno is a master mechanic and tends to Totoyaya as though she were his wife (which, in a way, she sort of is!)

The second camper cell construction, made by an ambulance-cell-making company in Namibia.  They also made Totoyaya’s first box.

One of the great advantages of Totoyaya’s camper box design is that she fits perfectly into a high cube container, making a trip around the world easier and cheaper!!

Totoyaya is actually lighter now with a camper box than she was originally, so she still handles off-road great!

The large awning creates an extra room and is great for inviting friends for afternoon tea!

In my family, this phrase is famous.  I said it once to my father, early on in my journey living with Bruno in his Toyota camper van.  He’d asked me how I – the girl with sixty shades of nail polish perfectly lined up in her adolescent bathroom – could live in such a confined space and like it.  He never forgot my answer, and used it countless times when describing my nomadic life to incredulous friends and family.

I may not have everything I want, but I have everything I need.

At the time I said it – and for much time afterwards – the phrase held true.  Totoyaya, and the life she offered, gave me everything I needed.

This is the life – on a private African safari with our very own camper van!

It’s been awhile, though, that my phrase no longer describes how I feel.

Bruno and I have long talked about the day we would upgrade to a larger vehicle.  We’d want a family and a bit more comfort one day.  That one day was always abstract; until it wasn’t.  Sometime last year, that one day became now.  As I type these words, it’s an urgent now.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when things changed for me.  I think it was more of a gradual evolution.  I have evolved over the years, as young people do, and my priorities have changed.  Life in Totoyaya still speaks to many of my core values – like living simply, having more time to enjoy the moment, and having the freedom to explore and learn from the wider world.

But as with anything, when you feed certain values, you prioritize them over others; and, if those other values are also important, you eventually feel imbalanced.  Our choices often have far-flung consequences that we cannot foresee until they are right upon us.

Enjoying the simple life at camped a public beach in Dubai.

In feeding my sense of adventure and simplicity, I have neglected my own comfort and health.  Allow me to explain:

Health has been a waxing and waning priority for me over the last dozen years.  When I met Bruno, I was at a waning phase; in the past year, health has become a top priority.  Eating healthy, home-made foods, doing yoga, and getting enough physical exercise have become essential aspects to my wellbeing.

I find them challenging to accomplish in Totoyaya.  My ability to get physical exercise is dependent on finding a space to exercise.  I can usually manage this, even with winter weather here in the U.S. (thanks to Planet Fitness), but there are often days on end when the weather is horrible, we’re in transit, and I’m stuck inside our tiny home without being able to release my pent-up energy (I’m a mesomorph and need to move a lot; and yes, I’m a chicken in bad weather).

Yoga has always been a struggle on the road.  If I’m in a city and can find a studio, great.  If I’m in a quiet, peaceful place where I can hide myself on my mat, great.  For much of my time in Totoyaya, we’ve been in regions of the world where I don’t feel comfortable downward-dogging it in public; more recently, we’ve been in Walmart parking lots.  After almost five years without one, I’m longing for a sacred space reserved for doing yoga poses and the opportunity to develop my practice.

It’s not easy to find a quiet, private place to do a bit of yoga. Even here, on the northern coast of Spain, I got caought on camera! (At least I was in the region of the world where it was ok to flash my belly!)

Lastly, while finding fresh food is easy on the road, cooking up delicious, healthy meals is not.  One day I’ll write a post about some of the techniques I use to eat healthy in a camper van, but today I must honestly confess that having no real kitchen makes this a challenge.  Now that the weather is cold and we’re often in parking lots, it’s even more difficult to cook, as my “kitchen” had always involved pulling a gas canister outside and cooking on our picnic table.

This is my kitchen. It’s AMAZING, when the weather is good and there’s space to bring out the picnic table.

Lack of comfort inside a four-square-meter sized space might be self-explanatory (I’ve had my fair share of friends and relatives remark this year, upon seeing Totoyaya face-to-face, that they don’t know how I manage to live in it), but, in fact, I didn’t feel that way until last year.  It’s no coincidence that my feelings have emerged as we began traveling in Europe and North America, regions of the world that have temperate climates and prohibitively expensive campsites.  Now, we spend many of our nights in parking lots and truck stops, which, along with the weather, has us taking our meals and spending our evenings inside.

I recognize we could solve most of these problems if we returned to the campsites of warm and sunny Africa, say.  The thing is, we want to travel in Europe and North America.  I personally just don’t want to be a claustrophobic blob while doing it!

Ahhh, the wonderful campsites of Africa. For $6, this one had a clear view of the Nile River, a swimming pool, electricity, and amazing shower and toilet facilities (so amazing that there were even massage tables in there).

I also recognize that some people travel in smaller, less comfortable vehicles than ours.  All I can say is kudos to you.  I no longer want to sacrifice my comfort and health to live this way.  I’m obviously not getting enough out of our travels to balance out the challenges because I have become increasingly resentful of Totoyaya.  She’s felt more like a prison than the engine to our dreams.  My claustrophobia has made me increasingly intolerant of the previously-minor inconveniences of living in such a small space – like finding clothes in cardboard boxes and foodstuffs under the bed; like searching for things in our totally impractical Engel box fridge, and like cooking the types of meals I want to cook (I love cooking, FYI) in a non-existent kitchen.

A shield from the wind because it kept blowing out my gas cooker. Very romantic, as long as it only happens from time to time!

Maybe I’m just at the 4.5 year mark now and my patience with the sacrifices I was once willing to make is up.  Maybe it’s just the region of the world we’re traveling in, and things will be fine again in Latin America.

Or maybe it’s that I’ve outgrown my home.  Having a haven has always been important to me (I’m a homebody), and I’ve always gone to great measures to create a pleasant, comfortable home for myself, be it a college dorm room or an apartment overseas.  I think I gather the confidence to propel myself out into the universe if I’m supported by a cosy home to retreat back to.

I used to feel Totoyaya was that haven – I no longer do.  My needs have outgrown her.

I think, also, that maybe the amount of STUFF I have has outgrown Totoyaya…

In my bad moments, Bruno wonders if this nomadic life is for me.  He wonders if I can live permanently on the road in any fashion at all.  Perhaps, in buying a new, larger vehicle, I am simply postponing the inevitable – that I need a larger home-base, perhaps with a routine and a community, and that no vehicle will be enough.

Admittedly, in my bad moments I have daydreamed about my lovely old apartment in Ottawa more than once…

I don’t feel that way.  When I imagine our future vehicle, it calms me.  It is large enough that even when it rains, we can spend the day inside without falling over one another.  Perhaps I’m baking a loaf of bread while doing some yoga stretches in the hallway, and Bruno is reading a book at the dining table.  I imagine us being autonomous enough that we won’t always have to worry about finding a place to sleep that has facilities.  We’ll have our own toilet, shower, high water capacity, and enough solar energy to keep batteries and laptops charged.  We’ll be able to park on BLM/Crown land without a second thought, or along that random side-road with a few RVs that we happen upon while driving from one place to another.

This is my shower in Totoyaya, which is GREAT if the weather is good and you can bathe outside.

In this future home-on-wheels, I’ll get the best of a home and the best of nomadic life.

I wrote this post a couple weeks ago, but I’ve been hesitant to post it.  I’ve re-read and re-written it a few time.  I don’t want it to come across as ungrateful or unconscious of my privilege.  I recognize that so many people in the world live in mud huts without beds or running water and survive on a single starchy meal a day.  Even in North America, people stuff themselves into haphazard apartments and live on food stamps.

I’ve decided to post it because I want to acknowledge two things, today.  First is that, when you’re born into a certain privilege, it’s hard to go backwards, to subtract, to live less comfortably (at least for more than a time).  In some ways, this is what my entire adventure in Totoyaya is – an effort to subtract.  I may just have subtracted slightly too much.

Secondly, I want to be honest with you.  I want to paint life in a vehicle as it actually is, not only as my Instagram photos show it as.  It would be totally phoney of me only to write about the awesome moments, and to leave out these, sometimes very momentous-feeling, challenges in between.  As I write this, I’m at a breaking point, and if I don’t share that breaking point, I may as well stop writing on my blog.

All this is why Bruno and I got an Air BnB apartment for Christmas, and another one for a few days in Las Vegas.  All this is why we’re trying – desperately – to find a new vehicle.  The narrative of Wandering Footsteps wouldn’t make sense if I didn’t share all this.

I got to live in a big, real, warm condo for a few days in Vegas… and cook in a GIGANTIC kitchen!

But let me finish with this: I have a lot to be grateful for (but living gratefully is a life-long process).  I have a roof over my head, a small but comfortable bed, my health, and a husband who would do anything to make me happy (read: give up Totoyaya).  I have the freedom to travel the world (on the cheap, but still), and the time to appreciate and enjoy life.  I have the opportunity to improve my lot in life when it’s less than perfect.

Best of all, I have the opportunity now – in my discomfort and dissatisfaction – to grow.  I am trying to lean into my negative feelings, to step outside them, and to breathe through them.  It’s the biggest challenge I have ever faced, but maybe I’m meant to learn something before that new vehicle comes our way (and during the long conversion that will follow!).  Maybe that’s why our vehicle search has been so frustrating.

Lean into the difficult moments, step outside them, breathe through them… be grateful.

I leave you with a poem from Rumi that was read to me at the end of a recent yoga class.  It resonated profoundly with me in light of all that I’ve just shared.  May it offer you, too, some glimmer of peace in whatever challenges you may be facing.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

It’s official – we’re putting Totoyaya up for sale.  We’ve been dancing around this decision for months – years, even – and now feels like the right time.  We’re sick of having to stay in campsites and parking lots because they have toilets and showers…

The plan is to design our own vehicle.  We’ll buy a truck or bus, empty, and convert it ourselves into a new home-on-wheels.  It’s going to be awesome!

Wednesday, December 14^th, 2016

We’re leaving Phoenix tomorrow.  Been here over two weeks looking for a shuttle bus to convert into an RV.  We’ve spent so many hours in so many libraries doing so much research.  We’ve looked at so many Craigslist ads, sent out so many inquiry messages, looked at so many busses.  Still, nothing.

Our map of Phoenix got a lot of action, as we plotted all the places we would visit during our 2.5 weeks there searching for a new vehicle.

Hopefully California will give us more luck than Arizona.  If I had known how hard this would all be, I’d never have put the idea in my head of converting a vehicle ourselves.  Had I known things would be this complicated I may have forced myself to accept a regular RV.

Wednesday, November 23^rd, 2016

Arrived in Tucson yesterday, but didn’t have time to write in my journal because we were on the internet until late doing vehicle research.  This afternoon, after having spent another morning online, we went to the DMV [Department of Motor Vehicle] office across town.  We got information on what it will take in Arizona to register a vehicle as an RV.  Many boxes to tick.

Then we went to Camping World and a few other RV stores.  Looked at some ready-to-go RV models.  Nothing inspiring but I’m trying to be open.

Monday, November 28^th, 2016

It’s our 3^rd wedding anniversary today, but we spent the morning doing something a bit strange, though not unpleasant.  We walked around our Tucson RV Park looking at the park model rental options available.  We figure that when we find a new vehicle, it might be a nice place to stay for a month while we work on it.  Only most of the garages here are too small for a shuttle bus.  Talked to one couple with a taller-than-average garage who can rent their home until the New Year.  Doesn’t leave us much time to find a new vehicle…  Guess we better head to Phoenix quick, as it seems to be where most of the Craigslist vehicles are located.

The RV Park in Tucson where we might spend a bit more time if we ever find our new vehicle!

Tuesday, November 29^th, 2016

Camping is frustrating in the U.S.  Before coming to Phoenix I spent no less than 3 hours researching campsites.  Impossible to find anything affordable or appealing.  Thought I’d found one – the only one – that would work, as it had cheaper “tent camping”.  But we get there and it’s a tuft of grass surrounded by RVs and inaccessible from our vehicle.  So literally for a tent only.  We’re at a Walmart parking lot (which took about 90 minutes to find since the city is huge) tonight but will need to find a better solution tomorrow because we really need a base in order to find our new vehicle.

Wednesday, November 30^th, 2016

Looked at a party bus today that Bruno’s had his eye on since Toronto.  In O.K. shape, a bit short (only 4.7m length inside) and expensive for what it is ($15,000).  It got Bruno and me discussing how to make things fit in a tighter space without giving up a permanent bed.  Then, just now, we got to talking about the value of a used water tank vs. putting a bucket under the evacuation tube and emptying it manually in sinks, sewers, etc.  I’m thinking anybody could guess which of us was for each option…

I’m exasperated by this project.  I just want it to be done already, for us to be traveling in our new homemade, long-enough, and comfortable overland vehicle.  But we’re still literally at the starting line.  And it’s been like 7 months.

Went to IKEA to make sure they had the furniture we want (for when we actually find the vehicle!), then came to this mega-casino to park for the night.  We’re suuuuuuuper far from the toilets and I got frustrated and claustrophobic in our tiny space.  No space to prep dinner, had to cook outside in the cold, had to put that embarrassing bucket under our water evacuation pipe.  Bruno and I keep having to do a dance – one of us on the bed, the other at the table, then switching when the other needs access to something.

I need this freaking new vehicle already!!

Friday, December 2^nd, 2016

OMG I feel soooooooo much better now.  Yesterday we tried this new accommodation strategy and it’s amazing.  We got gym memberships to Planet Fitness, so now we can go there in the evening, work out, shower, and park there or at a nearby Walmart for the night!  It’s brilliant – I don’t have to take wet wipe showers in Totoyaya, we don’t have to worry about toilets, and best of all, I can blow off a bit of steam at the gym, which makes sitting around in the tiny space all evening so much easier to handle. I’m so much less grumpy and negative now!

Planet Fitness has solved all my problems. What an amazing overlanding hack!

Nonetheless, today was a wee bit disappointing.  This morning, on our way to look at a minibus, we popped into an older RV store.  Chatted with a man called Lonnie and told him about our project.  Turns out they do RV conversions, renovations, etc.  Could be a great resource in providing man power, materials, and advice.

Lonnie showed us a Ford minibus he had, same length as the ones we’ve seen (a.k.a. 25ft bumper to bumper, 4.7m inside, a bit short).  But this one was in great shape and had less than 20,000 miles on it!  Previously a Tucson government vehicle, funding was cut, work outsourced, and now selling the fleet.  Lonnie told us the vehicle’s a 2007 7.3L Turbo diesel engine – in other words, the exact engine Bruno was looking for!

Bruno and I chatted a bit.  We visited the other minibus on the complete other side of town – it was way too long.  Decided Lonnie’s bus was a steal at $10,000, and decided to buy it then and there.

The disappointment came later when we learned that the engine was actually a 6.0L which has a horrible reputation.  Thing is, if we don’t get this vehicle, it’s back to the drawing board and it could be weeks before we find something.  Lonnie’s company gets super busy in January with all the snowbirds and won’t be able to help us, so it’s now or never if we want his conversion expertise.

We are rather confused, in other words.  Our guts are leaning toward buying this vehicle anyway, but with the engine and the length, the balance isn’t strongly tipped like we’d like it to be.  Wouldn’t it be great if it were the 7.3L?

Saturday, December 3^rd, 2016

This morning we visited some places with box trucks (you never know) then popped over to Lonnie’s.  Turns out that not only is it not a 7.3L, but it also has like 160,000 miles!  I guess Lonnie mixed up this vehicle with one he’d already sold… Back to the drawing board!

Visited a different Ford 7.3L Turbo diesel shuttle bus that’s a bit bigger (great), half the price (great) and seems in decent shape.  Only weird thing is the story – a young guy named Donavan who lives in Hawaii bought it at an auction a few weeks ago to ship to Hawaii and transform into a little guesthouse, only he learns after buying the vehicle that the shipping is too expensive.  So now he’s selling the bus.  And, for some reason, Donavan had the title sent to his P.O. Box in Hawaii so has to have his girlfriend mail it to him.  Something fishy… hmmm…

The Ford E450 7.3L Diesel shuttle bus we’re looking at.

Tuesday, December 6^th, 2016

Yesterday was a big research day, seeing if this Ford 7.3L with 312,000 miles on it was a good buy.  Went to two recommended Ford Diesel shops and got tips on what mechanical checks we should do and learned what it would eventually cost to replace the engine.  Got worrying advice so felt unsure about the bus.  Went to a Ford dealership to get the Carfax history report printed out, which helped a bit, then tried to gather more intel from the library.

First thing this morning, went back to Donovan and totally lowballed him on the vehicle price based on what we’d found out.  He was OK to let the vehicle go at $3,000 since he admitted to buying it at the auction for only $2,600.  So we took the vehicle to a mechanic we’d made friends with last week to get it checked out.  Lots of little things to repair and one potentially medium-sized problem.  They priced repairs out at about $2,000.

Then we stopped at Lonnie’s to show him the vehicle and our plans.  He took tons of photos and said he’d get back to us with an estimate for the work we’d want him to do, like closing up the wheelchair door, installing a chair, and fitting a grey water tank below the vehicle.

We were feeling productive.  Like we were moving forward.  Then we got bad news from Donovan.  He’s lost the vehicle title!  He’s ordered a new one (from California) but will only get it in the mail in 2-3 weeks!  We’re on a clock, both for our U.S. visas and because we want Lonnie’s help.

Back to the drawing board again.

Wednesday, December 7^th, 2016

Research day at the library.  Lots of text messages sent to potential other vehicles.  Also looking online at designs, materials and aesthetics inside busses converted into RVs.  A trip to Home Depot this morning to begin honing in on materials for flooring, siding, and walls.  All told, we spent 6 hours at the library – this vehicle search is a full-time job!

Saturday, December 10^th, 2016

Last two days were library days again.  Grateful we’ve found a quiet place to work – it sure is better than McDonald’s!  This afternoon we drove west of town as there’s a vehicle we’re going to visit tomorrow morning in Buckeye.  The Phoenix area is easy to navigate, but MAN is it sprawling!

We spent a LOT of time at libraries around Phoenix doing research related to our vehicle search.

Sunday, December 11^th, 2016

This morning we visited that vehicle we’d been waiting to see since Wednesday.  It wasn’t up to snuff.  We liked its mileage and size but, in fact, even though you could start the vehicle (by spraying fuel right into the injector), it wasn’t driveable!  We would have had to call a tow truck to get it to the mechanic’s just to get the vehicle inspected (and fixed, obviously – the repair alone would have been $1,700!).  Plus, the vehicle didn’t look well-maintained.  Had been towing a 10,000lbs trailer, had sat for a year, had horrible peeling NASCAR stickers all over it, dust everywhere, dead batteries, and the engine in pieces.

I’d have taken this shuttle bus for free but wouldn’t have paid a dime for it!

There’s another one in town with the 7.3L diesel engine and a ready-made camper cell on the back.  Bruno’s been trying to get in touch with the owner for days, but no reply to emails and the phone number is deactivated.  I can tell he really wants this vehicle – probably because it’s ready to go – but it’s not looking good.

Monday, December 12^th, 2016

Today we were back to our Phoenix routine of groceries, library, exercise, rinse and repeat.  Only difference was that Bruno found another interesting vehicle so we went to the Ford dealership for another Carfax report.  It’s our fourth.

Got in touch with the owner of this shuttle bus and learned that he wasn’t far from our current location.  Went to look at it after our workout.  It looks quite perfect.  It’s in great shape aesthetically, which is so pleasant after the last several vehicles.  It’s a Ford 7.3L diesel shuttle bus, but with 2 seats upfront (a huge bonus) and about 50cm extra length than Donavan’s.  Best of all, everything works!

Only downsides are the huge mileage (340,000 miles!) and the price – $15,000!  We offered him $8,000 cash, pending a mechanic’s visit, and he said he would think on it.  I don’t expect he’ll go for that price, since these Krystal Limo busses seem to go for a pretty penny on the market, but maybe we can negotiate.  I mean, those 7.3L engines can do 500,000 miles, but he’s already almost there, so we don’t want to invest toooooo much…

Tuesday, December 13^th, 2016

No news from Elmer, the man with the Krystal limo.  We’re sort of waiting on him, as Phoenix has gone dry on new vehicles to look into.  We’ll spend another day here waiting for news from either him or Donovan, and then we’ll head to California.

All our different nighttime parking spots in the Phoenix area.

Wednesday, December 14^th, 2016

This morning we did some shopping at Lowe’s and found a possible shower and stovetop.  Then went to a nearby mall and checked out sound systems and TV screen possibilities.  Now we just need the vehicle!

Haven’t heard from Elmer with the nice bus.  Sent him a text thanking him for his time and saying we assumed he wasn’t interested in selling to us.  No reply…

We’re leaving Phoenix tomorrow.  Hopefully California will give us more luck than Arizona.  If I had known how hard this would all be, I’d never have put the idea in my head of converting a vehicle ourselves.  Had I known things would be this complicated I may have forced myself to accept a regular RV.

Maybe I will.

We’ve been searching for a camper van in Canada.  And it’s been more challenging than we’d initially expected.

Choosing the Vehicle

Things started all the way back in New Brunswick.  When Bruno and I decided to ship our current camper van from Europe to North America, we knew we had made a difficult choice.  Selling Totoyaya would be easier in North America (Americans love Land Cruisers!) but finding a suitable replacement vehicle would be more difficult.  The amazing Mercedes Vario we’d picked as our next overland vehicle is almost impossible to find here – the few available all come from European travelers finishing their overland tours.  No other vehicle we knew of would check as many boxes as this Vario.

Between family visits in New Brunswick, Bruno discovered the Mitsubishi Fuso, a popular lightweight truck usually used for intra-city deliveries.  Though the Fuso is almost never a 4WD and generally offers only automatic transmission, we liked its small, economical engine (a rarity on a continent that prefers V8 and V10 engines).  It would also offer high clearance, three seats in the cabin, and a large enough chassis and cell to build the camper we’d envisioned.

The Mitsubishi Fuso.

A second vehicle that began to interest us more and more over time was the Ford F450 minibus.  Though the engine is not at all economical, we learned it was one of the most highly sought-after engines in North America because of its reliability and omnipresence.  This vehicle doesn’t have quite the high clearance of the Fuso, and also lacks manual transmission and 4WD, but it would be easy to drive, large enough to build our home, more affordable, and with an aesthetic that the Fuso lacked.

One of many different styles of Ford F450 minibuses.

Finding Direction

We may have narrowed our vehicle choice down, but as we left New Brunswick we still had no real idea of the ins-and-outs of our project.  Would we be able to register the vehicle as a camper van?  How would we get license plates without a Canadian address?  What insurance options were available to us?  Would we be able to buy the materials necessary to build the interior?

Truth be told, the entire idea of designing and building our own camper van out of a truck or bus often felt like an exhaustingly overwhelming project.  In fact, even to this day, Bruno would probably just buy a regular RV and get on with things – he prefers simplicity, leisure, and travel to having the ideal home-on-wheels.  It’s more me who is really uninspired by run-of-the-mill RVs and is more attached to the idea of creating a home that expresses our personality, lifestyle, and personal flow.

One of the many RVs available throughout the continent.

Regular RVs in action.

It would be one thing if I were handy, of course.  Then I’d take this project by the reins rather than depending so much on Bruno’s handyman skills.  But, unfortunately for both of us, I’m only handy in a kitchen.  This project – apart from the design – is more or less on Bruno’s shoulders.

One evening in early September, camped along the St. Lawrence outside Kamouraska, we got to chatting with some locals.  When the conversation turned to our plans to find a new overland vehicle, the family mentioned New West, a Quebec City-based company that creates custom-made interiors for camper vans.  Since Bruno and I had little idea where to start our project, we decided New West was as good a place as any.

The bush camp near Kamouraska where we learned about New West. I think one of the vehicles in this photo was made by this company.

Asking for Help

And so, we went to New West to check out the work they did.  Since I wasn’t going to be much help, I agreed that we would try to outsource certain parts of the project, finances permitting.  As such, we were specifically interested in inquiring whether New West could help insulate the interior of our vehicle and install a few windows.  We found out very quickly that the company has never done this type of work except for on their own vans, but that they were open to helping us out if they could.  They’d send us a quote soon.

An example of a New West conversion.

In the meantime, they sent us on to a company that makes custom truck cells.  We’d discussed the fact that we wanted an extension over the cabin of our truck, both for additional storage and better aerodynamics, and it appeared this company could help.  We discussed our plans with them, and asked for a quote for the extension, and also to adjust the length or height of an existing cell, because most of the cells we’d been seeing online were too long and too high.  Just for kicks, we asked the company to send us a quote for building an entirely new custom-made cell, even though we expected the quote to be beyond our budget.

(FYI, New West never got back to us, but were quoted us about $6,000CAD for make a few adjustments on an existing cell, and about $15,000CAD to build a brand-new one.)

Gathering Information

In Montreal, we received additional help from Jenn and Nico, my cousin and her life-partner.  Nico had already traveled around North America in a minibus conversion, and he sent us to the SAAQ office to answer our questions about registering a vehicle in Quebec as a camper van.  At the office, we learned that we could indeed register a truck or bus as a camper van as long as we passed through a few hoops.  But, as we discussed this plan with our family and their friends, we realized that Quebec was not the province to do this – it’s notorious for being more complicated, bureaucratic, and slow that Canada’s Anglophone provinces.  We’d be best looking into the process in Toronto, 500km west.

And so, we visited Service Canada in Toronto to ask our questions.  It took several people and a few phone calls to gather the information we needed, but eventually we learned that with an affidavit, a few interior transformations to the vehicle, a paint job, and a safety and emissions tests, we would be able to register a bus or truck as an RV.

Shopping for Vehicles

In Montreal, we had visited a moving company that used both Ford F450 minibuses and Mitsubishi Fusos, and sold off these vehicles as they upgraded.  We had spoken with a representative about the differences in their consumption and reliability, and had taken interior measurements.  We’d briefly considered the Hino, a similar vehicle to the Fuso, but eventually learned that its large engine had poor fuel economy, which was the very reason we liked the Fuso.

In Toronto, we began our vehicle search in earnest.  Initially we were most interested in the Fuso.  We visited a used truck store, but their vehicles were too costly and the chassis had quite a lot of rust.  We test-drove one Fuso (the FK, with a manual transmission) but it was a very difficult drive and its chassis, too, had loads of rust.  We stopped at another used truck store, but they had no Fusos available at that moment.

By this point, we had started learning toward the Ford minibus, despite its higher fuel consumption.  The Fuso seemed so large, and especially so high.  So we visited a company that was selling off its old F450 shuttle buses.  We got to step inside to visualize the interior layout, and we discovered that our design could work, with some modifications.  But the shuttle buses were so full of rust that, when Bruno touched a part of the chassis, a piece of it broke off!

Rusty chassis, no good!

Because Canada has harsh, snowy winters, most cities spread salt on the roads to melt the ice.  The salt, however, does major damage to vehicles, so that even vehicles claiming to be in great conditions on online ads were disgraceful in my French hubby’s eyes.  We’d spotted a minibus that had already been partially converted into a camper van by a guy about 300km south of Toronto, but when we asked for photos of his chassis (which was in “excellent condition,” he said), we saw, again, rust.  When we stopped by a garage that buys and sells school busses and minibuses, we saw, once again, that there was rust.  There, we at least got to test drive a minibus, and we got a lot of tips from the seller about what to look for and what to avoid in the world of the Ford F450, but still, the visit was fruitless.  It was early October, we were soon on our way to New York and France, and we still had no vehicle.

Winter in Canada.  Yikes!

Moving Onto Plan B

Bruno and I had to concede that we wouldn’t likely find our new camper van in Canada.  We had been hoping to take advantage of the favourable Euro – CAD exchange rate, and expected registration and insurance to be easier here because of my Canadian citizenship, but it was not to be.   We would have to continue our search for a camper van in the USA.

And so, with winter on its way, Bruno and I will drive Totoyaya south until we reach a state that doesn’t smear salt all over its roads.  I didn’t expect our “build our own overland vehicle” project to be quite so challenging and time-consuming, but I now understand that this will likely consume most of our winter.  I sure hope it will be worth all the hard work in the end!  Wish us luck, friends!

Almost tempted to stick with our trusty Totoyaya after a month of this! :)

And so, I conceived of the Wrap-Up Series to give people a more concrete, non-poetic description of what the previous month has been like, and therefore a better grasp of what the nomad overlander life is like! 

Here are some of the things you can expect to read about in my new Wrap-Up series:

• The number of kilometers we’ve driven
• What we’ve been up to, with links to previous posts that describe our activities this month
• A description and map of our exact route
• Any noteworthy camping spots
• A few highlights (or lowlights)
• What we expect the next month to hold for us (keeping in mind that future plans are always very changeable!)

So, without further ado, here’s our September 2016 Wrap-Up!

On September 2^nd, after being on an overlanding hiatus for five months (with the exception of Bruno’s travels from the south of France to Belgium in July) Bruno and I finally hit the road again!

For days leading up to our departure, I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off gathering my belongings scattered around my parents’ home, choosing the few essential items that would fit in Totoyaya and packing away those that hadn’t made the cut into my parents’ storage area.  One of these days I’m going to have to get rid of those belongings that are unnecessary in my nomadic lifestyle, but I never seem to have the time to sell things off online!  Thanks again, mom and dad, for storing my things another year…

New Brunswick sent Bruno and I off with a bang… of cold, rainy, windy weather!  It felt like winter in northern Spain, and I briefly wondered what two crazy people take off on a road trip through Canada in September.  Thankfully, by the time we hit the St-Lawrence River, the weather shifted back into late summer warmth.

Departure morning… with a storm!

No matter – our passengers are ready to hit the road!

Our Route

This month, Bruno and I drove from Grand-Barachois, New Brunswick to Toronto, Ontario.  We traveled through northern New Brunswick then along Quebec’s St-Lawrence River, visiting Quebec City and Montreal (the details of our experience from Grand-Barachois to Quebec City are in my previous post).  By the middle of the month we were in Ontario, where we continued along the St-Lawrence, spending a couple nights near the Thousand Islands National Park before reaching Toronto (more on that in my next post).

Our total number of kilometers this month was 2,264.

Notable Camping Spots

We boondocked (my new, North American term for bush camping) five times this month.  We would have done more – as I mentioned in my last post, camping in campsites has proven to be very expensive in Canada – but we spent 18 nights staying with family and friends.  Visiting loved-ones in Quebec and Ontario are actually what we did the most in September, and my next blog post will be devoted to this topic.

Out of all our boondocks, I really enjoyed two and will describe them briefly (according to our own experience), with GPS coordinates:

1. Halte Municipale, Riviere-Bleue Quebec. GPS N47 26.891 W69 02.035.  A municipal park on the side of the road with a few potential parking spots hidden by trees from the road.  Two toilets open 24/7 and one cold running water tap.  Camping either officially allowed or tolerated – the signs were a bit confusing.
2. Public beach along St-Lawrence 4km east of Kamouraska. GPS N47 35.610 W69 49.061.  Favorite beach of locals, busy on holidays and weekends in season.  Small parking lot 200m from national road directly along beach.  Camping tolerated and very popular when we were there.  No toilet or water facilities so come prepared.

The beach campsite outside Kamouraska.

The Halte Municipale just after the Quebec border.

Highlights of the Month

The highlight of September was definitely getting back on the road with Bruno.  Getting to drive through beautiful countryside, explore new places, and live simply and freely again was just amazing after so many months living in homes.  There was a moment, watching the sunset our first night along the St-Laurent, that the beauty of being on the road again truly set in.  I felt calm and at peace as I sat there with my beloved with the impressions of our day in a new place playing around in my mind and no responsibilities to cloud my thoughts.  Being on the road – and all that comes with it – was bar none the highlight of the month!

The simple aspects of being back on the road, like a surprise wild blueberry patch on the side of the highway!

Bruno enjoying the relaxation and peace that comes with our nomadic life.

Getting my first glimpse of the St-Lawrence river.

Visiting the marche du Vieux-Port de Quebec.

A close second, though, has definitely been getting to reconnect with various friends and family members around the central part of Canada and having them finally meet Bruno (but more on that in my next post!)

On the Cards Next Month

For maybe the first time in my life, I actually have no clue what the next two weeks hold for us.  I don’t want to give too much away just yet (there will definitely be a blog post devoted to this soon), but our lack of certainty about the coming weeks has to do with our efforts to find a replacement for Totoyaya.

However, I can say with more sureness than usual (we actually have flights and theater tickets booked!) what the second half of October will hold for us.  Our plans will, once again, involve a hiatus from our overlanding life… poor Bruno!

First, we will spend a few nights with my aunt Louise in New York City, as she is the only member of my immediate family who has not yet met Bruno.  She will show us “her New York,” as she likes to put it, and Bruno will revisit a city he hasn’t explored since he was a twenty-something backpacker!  I’m looking forward to seeing Louise, and revisiting New York City for the second time in three months.

Then, on October 16^th, we fly out of NYC to France to spend three weeks with Bruno’s family.  It seems as though we’ve just left France, but we don’t foresee another time until next fall that we could go, since we hope to be heading toward Alaska and the Yukon next spring and summer, so it’s now or never.

October will hold a mixture of unknown, big city exploration, family visits, and an overseas flight.  Stay tuned on the blog for stories and photos of these adventures!

I hope you enjoyed this new blog series, and that it helped give a concrete wrap-up of our current state of affairs.  If there’s any information you wish were included in this series, please do post your suggestions in the comments section below so that I can target this series to exactly what my audience is looking for.  Thanks a bunch and see you next month with another update!

His reply: Alaska.

It appears Bruno has been planning his return to North America for at least four years (truthfully much longer).  It’s been a long time coming, which is why August 10^th was such a monumental day for Bruno and me.  Totoyaya, our beloved homemade camper van, arrived in North America!

Our vehicle’s arrival onto any new continent is special (over the years I have personally had the opportunity to experience an arrival in Asia and Europe, though Bruno has also experienced its arrival into Africa, North America, and South America), but our arrival to North America holds a particularly special place in my heart – it’s my home continent!

I’ve spent the last decade (plus) exploring lands far and wide, but I’ve spent so little time exploring my own (unless we count all those childhood moves).  There’s an incredible satisfaction in knowing that I’m finally going to delve deeper into the landscapes, culture, and history of my own special region of the world.  It feels like a return to my roots, like coming full circle after a decade of wanderlust.

This month, Totoyaya will be peacefully parked in the driveway of my parents’ home along New Brunswick’s Atlantic Coast while we spend time with family and friends.  We’ll hit the road sometime in September.  In the meantime, I thought it would be interesting – and potentially helpful – for me to share our experience with shipping our vehicle from Europe to North America.

Totoyaya, our beloved camper van, is parked at my parents’ home in Canada! CRAZY!!

We can even stare at her from the window of our bedroom!

From one side of the Atlantic Ocean to the other! :)

Step 1: Choosing the Shipping Method

There are two primary ways to get a vehicle across the Atlantic Ocean – putting it in a container, or doing a roll-on roll-off (RORO) ferry.  I talked more about our experiences with these options here, but basically, ferries are generally the option we prefer.  They involve less paperwork and are faster to organize.  The drawback is that the vehicle is less secure, as you have to hand over your keys.  Cost differences depend on size of vehicle and time available to plan the journey.

There isn’t always a RORO available, but the journey between Europe and North America is so popular now that there are several RORO options.  We opted to go with Seabridge because they are one of the most popular and reliable options, and Bruno’s priority for this journey was simplicity.

Step 2: Choosing the Route

We thought we would ship our vehicle from Hamburg, Germany, but Seabridge recommended that we ship from Antwerp, Belgium, instead.  The ferry ride would be several days shorter (four, I think) and the services provided would be in French and English, rather than German only.

Seabridge offers several ports of arrival in North America, but for us, the option was easy.  Halifax is only three hours away from my family home, so Bruno and I could stay there while we waited for Totoyaya to arrive.  This was a great way to bide our time, as there were 2.5 weeks between the date we handed over the keys in Antwerp and the day we could collect our vehicle in Halifax.

Apparently Canadian customs are pickier than the Americans, but the advantage of arriving in Canada is that we weren’t given the one-year time-limit on our foreign vehicle, which is what happens when you arrive in the US.

The possible ferry routes with Seabridge.

Step 3: Making the Reservation

You can make a reservation up to six months in advance, but since we were departing Europe at a less busy time (the busiest times are at the beginning and end of summer), we reserved online a few weeks before our departure.  You need to know the dimensions of your vehicle, as the cost is factored at 47 euros per meter cubed.

When you reserve, you are also given the option of purchasing car insurance with Seabridge.  Even though we weren’t asked to provide proof of our insurance, if we ever get stopped by police or have an accident, it’s the first thing we would be asked for.  We would never drive in North America without vehicle insurance, and though we declined Seabridge’s insurance offer, we found it difficult to find affordable insurance for a European vehicle in North America.  Finally, we went with Progressive.

We did opt for trip insurance on the vehicle with Seabridge, as it was only about 150 euros for the journey.

Step 4: Preparing the Vehicle

Unfortunately, I wasn’t around for most of the vehicle prep (I was spending some family time in Canada before Bruno joined me), so my poor hubby had to do most of this work on his own.  I know this involved cleaning the interior of the vehicle thoroughly (a requirement for the Canadians), removing the water jugs and bicycles from the back exterior of the vehicle, emptying our personal items from the cabin, and high-pressure washing the exterior of the vehicle.

There is a customs inspection upon arrival, and the cost of that inspection is included in the shipping quotation.  However, if the customs inspector determines the vehicle isn’t clean enough, there will be an additional cost to clean and re-inspect the vehicle.

Bruno left one bicycle in France and put the other one inside our vehicle, hiding it with a piece of fabric under the table. Apparently things need to be put away like this inside the vehicle for the ferry ride as well as customs.

Step 5: Loading the Vehicle at the Port of Departure

Vehicles bound on North American ferries with Seabridge from Antwerp must be in the port by noon every Monday (during summer, that is; winter may have less departures).  Bruno was impressed at how simple the process was.  He simply parked at the port, entered the building of the agency, got an entry pass into the port, brought the vehicle to be weighed (ours comes in at 3100kg!), handed his reservations documents to the agent, was told where to park, handed over the keys, and was given a receipt of the delivery.  In and out in under an hour.

Seabridge then provided us with a document package of how the pickup in Halifax would happen, and it included maps, campsites, phone numbers and addresses of the offices we’d need to visit.  The package was well-detailed and we felt confident and clear about the next step in the process.

Driving our camper van into the Antwerp port.

The paperwork that goes along with the shipping process. Easy-peasy.

Our vehicle waiting in the port to be loaded onto the ferry. Bruno has already handed over the keys at this point.

Step 6: Picking up Vehicle at Port of Arrival

We followed our ferry’s progress online with a link that Seabridge had given us, so we knew it had arrived in port Sunday afternoon, just about two weeks later.  It takes a couple of days before the vehicle is available, because everything is unloaded from the ferry and customs takes a day or so to check the shipment.

On Wednesday morning (2.5 weeks after dropping the vehicle off in Antwerp), you do two quick visits in Halifax before heading to the port to pick up your vehicle.  First, if you’ve opted for the service, you go to a customs broker affiliated with Seabridge to pick up a packet of documents.  You have to pay $150CAD for this.  The office is located in downtown Halifax (5km from the port) and the visit takes five minutes.  The simplicity of this step in the process was well-worth the money.

Next, you walk 600m to Canadian customs, hand over the forms you received at the customs broker, answer a few questions about the contents of your vehicle and the intention of your trip, and get your documents stamped.  This also took about 10 minutes.

Bruno and I opted to do these visits the Tuesday afternoon, because the vehicle pickup at the port can only happen between 8:30-11:30am and we didn’t want to be rushed for time.  In retrospect this was not necessary – everything can be done in a single morning.

At the port, we went to the entry office, showed our passport and got vests and guest passes.  We were driven into the port to an office, where we handed over our packet of documents.  Someone walked us to the vehicle for a cursory inspection, we signed a document, and the vehicle was ours to drive out of the port!

The custom broker’s office in Halifax.

The port in Halifax, Nova Scotia where we picked up our camper van.

Can you spot Totoyaya???

I can! I can!!

Concluding Thoughts on Our Experience with Seabridge

Based on the dimensions of our vehicle, it cost us 2585 euros to ship our vehicle on the Seabridge ferry from Antwerp, Belgium, to Halifax, Canada.  This price included optional trip insurance.  We also had to pay $150CAD in Halifax for the broker’s services.

While this price was possibly higher than other companies (and several euros per square meter higher than Seabridge used to cost), Bruno was incredibly satisfied with the experience.  It took less than an hour on each end of the shipping, which was so much simpler than his experiences doing any other long distance shipping.  Also, the price we were quoted was the full price, and there were no additional costs that surprised us at any point in the process.  Bruno felt confident and safe with Seabridge, our vehicle arrived undamaged and with nothing missing, and neither of us experienced any stress during the process.

We can thus fully recommend Seabridge for shipping vehicles between North America and Europe, and we would do it again without any hesitation.

FYI, Totoyaya is, indeed, still for sale.  We’ve decided to keep traveling with her in North America until we find her a proper new home.  For all you North American readers, this means that our beloved camper van is now available in your own backyard!  Please do pass the word on!

It’s the longest we’ve stayed in one place since I worked in Uganda almost four years ago.

At the beginning of this very atypical [for us] sedentary adventure, I expressed my excitement and pleasure at being stationary.  I was totally digging the comforts of a house, the domestic routine, the feeling of groundedness and community that my nomadic life lacks.

I also predicted that, eventually, the novelty of the mundane would wear off, and that I would be ready to hit the road again.

I was right.

I don’t know exactly when the shift occurred – all I know is that, in time, I found myself daydreaming about being in Totoyaya and getting excited again about foreign places in books and on TV.  At the same time, I noted that my gratitude for basic household comforts (like hot water and a washing machine) was diminishing, and that my once-mindful appreciation for my daily routine was being dogged by everyday frustrations and problems.

The novelty of living a normal life in a normal house was wearing off, and I was able to see what this type of life would be like for me without my rose-tinted glasses on.

Having lunch with Bruno and his parents – one of our post-yoga routines that never got old.

Hosting family was an amazing way to strengthen our community in France.

Extended lunches with extended family.

There are definite advantages to living in one place for an extended period of time.  The one that jumps out at me the most is the ability to create roots.  When you’re in one place, you become part of a community, you gain a deeper grasp of a place, its people, and its place in time and space, and you carve out a place for yourself within in.  Maybe you join a club or activity that adds meaning to your life, maybe you turn a house into a home, maybe you create deep connections with people that aren’t possible when you’re flitting from place to place.

But there are also challenges to living in the real world.  During my nine weeks in France, I identified a few of them:

The Perpetual To-do List

Being in the real world involves a whole lot of work and responsibility.  I had to re-create a daily to-do list, something I’d happily given up four years ago when I embarked on this nomadic life with Bruno.  In France, as soon as I accomplished something (and get the satisfaction of checking something off my list!) two new tasks would emerge.  My to-do list seemed eternal.

What’s more, if I chose to make time for myself (to do yoga, to walk the beach, to play in the kitchen, to read), a part of me would feel guilty for taking time off.  Not only did I know, in the back of my mind, that I had so much work to do (which was stressful enough), but I was often hyper-aware that even though I had chosen to take some time for myself, Bruno had chosen not to (he consistently ran around like a chicken with his head chopped off).

Trust me, there is a lot less satisfaction in sitting outside in a lounge chair with a book when your partner is spray-washing the mobile home siding (and it’s not because he’s disturbing the peace).

Ultimately, I had so little free time that I really appreciated it when I did find some.  But I think I’d rather just have more free time.  Being able to nurture passions, hobbies, and interests adds so much satisfaction to my life that it is challenging to accept a life without the luxury of free time.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty for doing this…

… and this.

Especially when Bruno was doing this.

The Expense

A question Bruno and I often get is how we afford to live this life of travel and adventure (I respond directly to this question here).  What I can say is that, every time Bruno and I spend time in our house in France, our expenses double.

Yes, you read that right – our costs are twice as much living in a house in France than traveling around the world in our camper van.  I truly don’t know how this is because we have very little to show for our expenses.  But somehow, between food and entertaining and house repairs, our money just disappears.

I’m proud of our budget lifestyle in our camper van, as our low-consumerism and ability to find free fun definitely aligns with my personal values.  Perhaps more importantly, though, when we spend money in our camper, I know what it’s going to – experiences that we will remember for a lifetime.  Things like boating on the Arabian fjords in Oman, renting a luxury villa for a huge family reunion in Morocco, fine dining in Italy, and visiting rock-hewn churches in Ethiopia are all concrete – and therefore worthwhile, (to me) – ways in which we spent our money.  It’s frustrating for me to spend twice as much money living in a house without anything tangible to show for it.

The Relationship Challenges

After not living in a real house – with real responsibilities – for almost 18 years, it’s understandable that the pace of life made Bruno a tad stressed throughout our time in France.  Bruno’s work ethic is absolutely astounding, but because of the perpetual to-do list, I felt like Bruno suffered from low-grade anxiety for almost three months (and probably a month or so leading up to our decision to return to France).

I’m not ashamed to say that our relationship suffered during our three months in France.  It’s pretty understandable.  I mean, normally Bruno and I are together 24/7 experiencing eye-and-heart opening places and experiences together in a fairly stress-free way.  In France, we had very little time together at all, and the vast majority of that was either accomplishing tasks or falling onto the sofa at night to watch TV.

Bruno and I hanging out. This is what quality time looks like for us right now! :)

There’s not a single picture of Bruno and I during our entire time in France until we left the south and visited the new babies in the family.

I had to merge two photos together to get shots of the two of us!

Sure, we had a bit of social time to enjoy together.  And we could connect during mealtimes.  But during a lot of these moments, we were distracted – by other people, by fatigue, by stress.  It was emotionally unfulfilling to be sharing a life and a house with a partner without the depth of connection I have become accustomed to with him.

The Speed of Passing Time

For nine weeks, my Canadian butt lived in a house on the Mediterranean coast of France, and besides my local produce market and nearby commercial center, I saw none of it.  I am almost ashamed to admit that, despite all our best intentions, Bruno and I did absolutely no touristic exploration whatsoever.

I know I talked in a recent blog about how building a community took priority over being a tourist in France, but truth be told, I intended to achieve both.  The problem was that our motto became typical of non-nomadic people everywhere: Tomorrow, tomorrow.

When you have a to-do list, a routine, and responsibilities, it’s so easy to put-off doing special things like visiting a new town, historical site, or natural space.  Bruno and I fully intended to visit at least a few of the many worthy sites in our area, but we always put them off.  We thought we’d have time tomorrow, knew these places would still be there tomorrow.

Well, enough tomorrows went by, and suddenly, nine weeks had come and gone and I was on a flight to Canada.  Though I’m satisfied I prioritized domesticity and community over tourism (in order to balance out what I get the rest of the year), I’m kicking myself just a little bit for letting time totally pass me by without taking advantage of exploring my temporary – and very interesting and beautiful– surroundings.

My most beautiful touristy shot of France in 9 weeks.

In France, I did more of this.

And this. I’m ok with that.

But it woulda been fun to do this too.

I’m definitely not saying that living in a home sucks.  I’m in no way criticizing the majority of you who have chosen a non-nomadic, domestic existence for yourselves.  I’m sure that many of you have found ways to get past these real-world challenges, to find solutions or tactics that help you manage them, or to balance them with the advantages of non-nomadic life.  (Maybe you don’t even find them challenges at all!)

I’m just saying that, because I don’t regularly live the non-nomadic life, it’s been easy (and interesting) for me to compare it to my nomadic life, to observe the differences, and to note the advantages and drawbacks to each (I talk more directly about the plusses and minuses of living in a camper van here).  At the very least, these notes can be sociologically interesting, but at the most they could also provide perspective for those of you so immersed in the real world that you don’t even realize the challenges it entails.

I already knew that occasionally dabbling with a domestic, non-nomadic life is valuable to me because it allows me to tap into the exact opposites of the life I normally lead – community, roots, routine, comfort.  What I didn’t realize was that stepping into the real world would renew my energy and appreciation for my life on the road.  After my refresher course on the challenges of regular life, I am refilled with gratitude for the fortune I have to live my amazing nomadic life.  Thank you Universe!