Slowing Things Down in New Brunswick

Six weeks. Forty-two whole days. That’s how long I’ve been in my parents’ home on the Atlantic coast of New Brunswick, Canada. For six weeks, I’ve been living in a home without wheels.

It’s the longest amount of time I’ve stayed put since 2013.

This blog post isn’t going to be like the others. It isn’t going to describe the history or culture of a region. It isn’t going to be filled with observations, experiences, or exotic photos. It isn’t going to recount my visits to tourist sites nor give advice to travelers preparing to go somewhere new.

That’s because, instead of being a nomad, for six weeks I’ve been happily living it up sedentary-style.

Don’t get me wrong: I love traveling, and I love love love the wandering, camper-van lifestyle I’ve chosen for myself. I have no plans to stop anytime soon.

But I have always loved a bit of yin to my yang. I love the spontaneity and excitement of my life on the road, the fact that no day is the same and my backyard is always changing. I love the fact that my days are filled with challenges, that the next shower is never guaranteed, that running water is a luxury.  But I also love just the opposite of all that. Yes, it’s true, I also love comfort and routine.

Wow. I can’t believe I just wrote that. I almost deleted it just now – those words almost make me wince in horror. They don’t describe me!!

And they don’t. They don’t describe things I actively seek in my life. They certainly don’t describe the type of life I want for myself all, or even most, of the time. They just describe things that I appreciate from time to time, in small doses. Let me break it down for you:

Appreciating Comfort

For the past six weeks, I’ve gotten to sleep in a giant bed. I can sleep starfish-style without limbs hanging off the bedside. In the morning, I can actually sit my bum down on a nearby toilet (and I can actually go to the toilet in the middle of the night if I need to!). I have a guaranteed shower every day, and there’s hot water! I have access to a massive kitchen, with an oven and giant prep-space. I have unlimited fast wifi!!

While I don’t actively search for these comforts the rest of the year – and while I would never give up this lifestyle for the sake of comfort – I certainly appreciate the comforts when I have them. For the past six weeks, I have been thankful for these comforts each and every day, and I haven’t taken any of them for granted. I love the fact that my camper-van lifestyle has taught me to appreciate these simple things that most people take for granted.

Appreciating Routine

For the past six weeks, I’ve been waking up early and doing some morning stretches, sun salutations (yoga moves), and sit-ups before breakfast. I work in the garden. I walk on the beach with my parents. I attend a yoga class. I stare out at the same beautiful beach view every day.

It’s not that these routines are terribly different from the ones Bruno and I have in our camping car. But there’s something about physically moving your space every few days that makes you feel like you never settle into routines. I mostly love that (I tend to get deathly bored of routines after a while). But it is fun, once in a while, to really feel a routine setting itself. Once the routine is comfortable and automatic is when it’s time for me to break it by hitting the road again!

So, these past six weeks, I’ve had a chance to shift my gaze. To stop being a tourist and a nomad and to focus on other things that I like to nurture in myself, too. Like preparing healthy foods from the garden. Like taking advantage of a nearby yoga studio to obsessively attend classes. And like reconnecting with family and old friends.

Appreciating People

And it is family and friends that are the most important part of my shifted focus when I’m in New Brunswick. Even though I only lived here for four years when I was a kid, New Brunswick has always been the only physical constant in my life. Despite moving all over the continent while I was growing up, our family returned here for a few weeks almost every summer to visit family and friends and hang out on the beach that my parents’ retirement home looks out onto.

It’s little wonder, then, that looking out on this beach and seeing these people grounds me, re-sets me, grows my roots just a bit deeper, and gives me the energy and courage I need to set out into the wider world again.

For six weeks, I have had no desire to do anything touristy. I haven’t wanted to go to Fundy National Park, watch the tidal bore on the Pedicodiac River, or marvel at the magnetic energy at Magnetic Hill (all things I did last summer when we hosted a plethora of visitors). When I envisioned my time in New Brunswick before I arrived this summer (and I did envision it – I even made myself a list of goals!), I didn’t kid myself by adding a whack of tourist activities to my to-do list. I did consider a very few activities – like raspberry-picking and checking out the semi-palmated plover bird migration in St. Mary’s, N.B. – but I even lost my zest for those once I got into the groove of stillness.

Maybe I felt less touristy because I’m just coming off the back of our awesome but very tiring pan-European road trip.  Or maybe because it’s harder to feel like a tourist in a place that isn’t new to you.  But I think it’s more that, when I come to New Brunswick, it’s to come home, not to be a tourist. It’s to live the life I’ve chosen not to live the other ten-and-a-half months of the year.

I depart again from this home and this life in a few short days. Bruno is anxiously awaiting my return to France. Soon we’ll be on the road again (yee-haw!). But before that, I’m going to do my best to squeeze every bit of routine, comfort, and connection I can in these last few days to last me another year.