Travelling. Different Rules on the Road.

There’s a lot to be said for having a secure base, a solid home life surrounded by friends and family. So they tell me. I’m comfortable with all that, but also like a very different situation. Thirty-odd years ago we decided on a course of action: abandoning jobs, friends, family and moving to a country where we knew nobody, didn’t speak the language and, in the absence of an income, would be forced to live off our wits. Best decision we ever made.

It wouldn’t suit everyone, this modified version of living on a desert island. Only people comfortable in their own company and with each other should attempt it. An absence of interest in material possessions will help as well. Treating life as an adventure has its rewards, but it’s not suited to everyone.

At first we renovated old houses. Ruined houses may be a better description. The places nobody with any sense would buy. Restored them to life, added value, sold them on and bought another wreck with the proceeds. Lived in properties amidst piles of rubble and camped out in the grounds when the roof wasn’t yet weatherproof. It happens! Saved enough from the eventual sale proceeds to buy another ruin and to live on, just about. Almost twenty years went by and other factors came into play. We’d lived in France, Spain, North Africa; had experiences denied to most people, but it was time for a change.

We came back to England, renewed ties with friends and family, and bought a house. Became traditional householders again with a library card, a bus pass, and all the trappings of genteel respectability. For two years we returned to our roots.

After two decades away English winters were hard, so we went wandering again. In a small camper van with very few mod cons. Eastern Europe; former USSR states in the main. Places we’d never visited. We loved it. The life suits us. Travelling doesn’t have to have a specific purpose. It can be a means of experiencing different cultures, different ways of life. When we travel our needs are few, costs are low, yet our lives are enriched. We don’t keep in touch with people ‘back home.’ That’s a conscious decision. Life is easier that way. When we go, we go. We don’t pick up emails; don’t have an address where we can be contacted. Like I said, this wouldn’t suit everyone. 

Where next? We’re thinking Morocco. Algeria. The High Atlas. The Sahara. Areas we’ve been before, enjoyed very much. We love mountains. Love deserts. Love the relaxed way of life, far removed from the tourist trail. We’re travellers, not tourists. On the rare occasions we get hassled by the local touts looking to exploit foreigners I usually say, scornfully, ‘we’re not bloody tourists,’ in the language appropriate to our surroundings, never in English. That works. It’s true as well. Tourists drop in for a week, maybe two. Go to places where other tourists go. See what other tourists see. We go to different places. Have very different experiences. Immerse ourselves in a land very different from our own, mingle with different cultures. We’re travellers, you see.