It seems like every day there's a new story circulating around the Internet about someone quitting their job to travel the world along with a link to their unbelievably scenic Instagram account. Sure, traveling has its perks, but there are also some not-so-glamorous moments. Bloggers Stevo and Chanel share their very real travel experience in this post originally featured on How Far From Home.
After being gone exactly six months, I feel it necessary we share the uglier side of our trip. Browsing through our blog posts and Instagram feed, it seems like we're having the time of our lives. And don't get me wrong — we are. It's bloody amazing. But it's not all ice-creams in the sun and pretty landscapes. Noooooo. So far, I think we've tallied 135 toilets scrubbed, 250 kilos of cow dung spread, 2 tons of rocks shoveled, 60 metres of pathway laid, 57 beds made, and I cannot even remember how many wine glasses we've polished.
You see, to come from the luxuries we left behind in Johannesburg, to the brutal truth of volunteer work, we are now on the opposite end of the scale. We're toilet cleaners, dog poop scoopers, grocery store merchandisers, and rock shovelers.
It's painstakingly hard and dirty work.
And although the last few months have been the most rewarding, they've also been some of the dirtiest and smelliest, and we've had to adapt with the least amount of necessities and food (and not because we're on some crazy crash diet). Whilst visits to town with our new friends in Norway meant buying beer and bags of candy for them, we've been forced to purchase floss (because you only get one set of pearlers, right?) and nothing else. The budget is really tight, and we are definitely forced to use creativity (and small pep talks) to solve most of our problems (and the mild crying fits).
So don't let the bank of gorgeous photography fool you. Nuh uh. I am not at my fittest, slimmest or physically healthiest. We eat jam on crackers most days, get roughly 5hrs of sleep per night, and lug our extremely heavy bags through cobbled streets at 1am, trying to find our accommodation (because bus fares are not part of the budget, obviously).
Although we knew it wouldn't be easy, we are certainly learning fast that this isn't for faint hearts, and we need to learn to react and adapt to everything that's thrown our way. Mentally, it's also a constant yo-yo between "I have all this time — let me use it productively, let me get fit and do everything I've ever wanted to do," vs. "I have all this time — let me relax and enjoy it." That, together with occasional bouts of boredom, demotivation and homesickness, makes this one hell of a ride.
But even though we probably have more grays than when we started, dirt under our nails despite long showers, and cheap snack food as a main form of nutrition, this crazy lifestyle allows us to enjoy the freedom of exploring rich Swedish forests, never-ending Nordic fjords, Italian cobbled alleyways, and cosmopolitan cities. We have time to brainstorm our own ideas, and push our own creative experiments. It's like heaven for us. Sure, wood needs to be stacked, and garbage needs to be taken out (it's our version of a sh*t sandwich, as Mark Manson put it), but once that's done, we're free to explore, wander and be one with our meandering thoughts. You work under your own schedule, using (a lot of) spare time to jog around mirrored lakes, craft inspired creations and breathe the Arctic air. There's nothing quite like swopping million rand advertising budgets for toilet scrubbing to teach you about humility, life and the importance of living each day as if it were your last.