Dwti Draig

And I don’t just mean waking up to find that America has bombed Iran and WW3 maybe just around the corner!

I say that in the spirit of writing a blog that is uncomfortably too honest at times. It would be far easier to write a blog in the spirit of “ohh, look at us, living the dream, dashing around the world, visiting beautiful places and celebrating with a cold drink in a medieval square that is photographed seven times until it has the right image for Instagram”. The truth is, travelling like this is bloody hard at times. I have spent lots of time this trip looking for the fabled unicorns and rainbows, but they are sadly lacking. This trip has involved a lot of down moments, interspersed with many WTAF are we doing moments, mainly from me. 

The one thing I’ve had on this trip is plenty of time to analyse what has gone wrong, and by wrong I am possibly using the wrong word. (ha, see what I did there?) I am never one to shy away from being overly self-critical or introspective, and have been known to be prone to the odd (many!) bouts of over-thinking.

So, I have had time to drill down and dig into what has “gone wrong” this trip, and what I can learn or change about it. Oh, and this is a very personal blog, as these challenges are all my own; Lyn is trucking through this trip with a big smile on his face and a bottle of German Weiss beer in his hand. 

So let’s go! Firstly, this trip is at the wrong time of year for me. I am but a delicate flower that does not bloom well in tropical heat. Think more of your shy Mimosa Pudica who reacts badly to being touched or shaken rather than your strong sunflower who turns her face to the boiling hot yellow mass. I wasn’t always delicate, you understand! I was once able to lay out on a sunbed with nothing more than a Jackie Collins novel, a cocktail and some baby oil for company. Then, what happened? Oh yes, the menopause, that happened! Now I start to physically shake and cry when I see forecasts over 22 degrees, and convince myself that all I am capable of is melting unelegantly into a fetid puddle of natural fibres. The temperature hit 33 degrees today. We have no air con. I am not happy. 

Secondly, as I get older I am finding more than more that I need my space. I am increasingly getting “all peopled out”, which has an impact on me in busy cities and crazy festivals. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love people, but very much on my terms, when I feel like it. There’s no bigger pleasure in life for me than making new friends, or striking up interesting conversations with strangers. I had a fantastic time in the Van Life festival, but it was overwhelming being there as a show truck, and showing strangers around the truck for a few days. Those people were overwhelmingly pleasant, but I did need to tuck myself away with my bestie in the truck on the first night to recuperate from an overload of people. Now, where have I been for the last 5 days, at an Overlanding festival with over 50,000 visitors a day. In 30 degree heat. See how my problems are stacking up??

Thirdly, I find I need my space; not only from people but physical space as well. The Vanlife festival had clearly marked out pitches so it was fine, but this festival is like the Wild West, where people hitch their wagons wherever they can, even when you think it is physically impossible. When we drove in we left a respectful space between us and our two neighbours, but were told to move closer by staff. We then had a van park behind us within millimetres of our awning guy ropes, and people cycling between the guy ropes, putting me on edge. I was warned about this, but hearing it and experiencing it are two completely different things. We are now in a field where most of the vehicles have left, and I finally feel I can breathe again… well, I would if it wasn’t over 35 degrees!

Finally, I have had to face the horrible realisation that I am a control freak. I would much rather be the laissez faire “just roll with it” type of person, but I am not. I get stressed out when things don’t go to plan, and don’t handle it well. Obviously on a journey like this lots doesn’t go to plan, and I really have to get better at dealing with it. My biggest nightmare was having to get out of the truck and stop traffic in France for Lyn to do a three point turn. I thought I was either going to cry, or be sick; possibly both at the same time. Yes, I did it, no I didn’t cry (not at the time anyway!) and I didn’t vom, but I bloody hated it, and the anxiety is caused has stuck around in my gut like one of those horrible little trolls that live under a low bridge that we can’t drive under. Little bastard! He likes to rear his head at completely random moments, causing me to have to use all the tools in my handbag to not go into a total panic attack, although it feels like one is never far off. I also don’t like being the centre of attention, and hate the stares we get when we pull in somewhere, or even just drive down the road. Again, people are overwhelmingly positive, but I would just rather avoid it. Note to self, maybe we shouldn’t have painted the truck bright red! 

So, all in all, these four little character idiosyncrasies have all added up to making this trip super stressful for me; especially when you add in the complications of driving on busier roads with different rules, tolls etc. I find myself harking back to the carefree trip of last Autumn when none of these little gremlins were a problem. 

I don’t want to restrict our travels to the easy breezy roads of Scandinavia and the Baltics, and need to toughen up, as we have the truck now; not an easy little T5 or motorhome, and I just have to get used to it. I am desperately trying to focus on the good parts (and there have been many) and work out what made them good. I loved the small town of Charlesville-Mezieres, rather than the crowds in Strasbourg. I loved the empty green space around our campsite there where I could get out into nature and walk and clear my head. I can’t do much about the weather, or the fact that our truck is an eye-catching beastie, but I need to find better coping strategies. I am trying to talk openly about when I am finding things difficult so that we can acknowledge them, and not internalise it all until it blows up like a spewing volcano scoring 9.8 on the panic attack Richter scale.

I know that I am so privileged and lucky to be on this adventure. Christ, it’s taken so much planning and time and money – but we have to be honest about how we feel, even if it feels too honest or that no one will care. This is a giant learning curve for Lyn and me, and sometimes that learning curve is steep and without a safety bar! We have proper practical problems, which are leading to this emotional time for me, and a lot of self learning along the way too. We can work on the practicalities (like figuring out aircon!), but these things take time. I am pretty confident everyone, whether they are van-lifing or not, feels this way sometimes. 

I won’t give up on travelling, I just need to let go of things I cannot change and take even more deep breaths when I need to! I signed up for adventure and adventure is rarely predictable so I just have to pull up my big girl pants and embrace it! I know I have people I can reach out to when it all feels too much, and the van life crowd in general is a pretty supportive bunch, so I am hoping people can comment below with any advice or tips for me. Just be kind! I know I am lucky and grateful for what I have. 

Normal positive blog posts will resume soon. Hopefully!