I have something to confess.
It’s hardly a secret for those of you following my social media, but if you’ve been living off the gram, you might have missed this one.
Ok here goes…
After four months living in tents, I caved, and on Saturday we were offered to move into a two-bedroom studio, and I accepted.
First reason, the rent was $8 more for a house than for an unpowered patch of grass, and since we returned from our trip north (360 travel videos coming soon) the caravan park had moved us from our large, shady spot opposite Lake Ainsworth, to an exposed, smaller site where we were getting smashed by rain, hail, wind, sun, and other humans.
Second reason, the food and kitchen boxes had started to do my head in. Perhaps it was simply that following our three-week trip north, where we pitched our tents in 14 different locations, I was exhausted and wanted to come home to a ‘holiday’, where cooking for my family (which I love doing) didn’t mean trudging around a caravan park with a gas stove, gas bottle, two kitchen boxes, especially in the pouring rain or brutal winds. For some reason, it all seemed so much easier until a week ago.
Third reason, with seven weeks to go before our epic #asiacrossing where we will cross seven countries from India to Japan over three plus months, I need to buckle down into my laptop and smash some work, edit videos and start Vlogging (YouTube channel launching in September!), and start selling off our accumulated ‘stuff’ (again) before we hit the skies.
So yeah, the timing was impeccable. I hadn’t even considered moving until that morning, and followed through with a spontaneous message to a friend whose empty studio Remy (my boyfriend) had been painting. We moved in the same day.
In a matter of days, with my Ninja blender plugged in to power finally, I had made batches of organic almond milk, bliss balls, salsa, macadamia butter, and daily smoothies, nurturing my family from the luxury of a small kitchen and feeling like a mum-boss. Not to mention how much work I’ve been getting done.
But, there are things I miss profoundly about living in a tipi, like waking up to jump in the cold lake, hearing the birds, and sleeping on the ground. In fact, since moving to a bed, like a ‘real’ one off the ground with a thick mattress, inside a bedroom with four walls and a roof, I have had the worst sleeps this year. Interesting right! Not to mention we go to bed much later, which is good on one hand – I’m being more productive – but on the other hand I feel my body is being stimulated by artificial lighting and thus making it harder for me to fall asleep.
The kids love having a TV, but at the same time they’re being boisterous around the house, jumping off furniture and they even tried to create a slide out of a didgeridoo. The difference is clear: when we lived at the caravan park, the tents were simply bedrooms, for sleeping, and the outdoors, nature, was their home. They played outside from sun up until sun down, minus the time they spend at school, but in a house the temptation to be inside, watching TV, and ultimately getting ‘bored’ easily makes for chaos.
I am so grateful for the four months we lived in tents. What I learned about simplicity, sustainability, and also about myself, could not have been taught to be without actually living the experience. There is no doubt in my mind that one day I will buy some land, build myself a little cabin with a sleeping deck surrounded by glass walls, a bed on the floor, and space for me to pitch a tipi whenever I want to be closer to nature. I’m consciously walking outside to stand in the grass barefoot, something we were doing throughout the day when we were camping but when you are in a house you can’t ‘earth’ as easily what with concrete, tiles, carpet and floorboards.
But one of the most important lessons, a recurring theme throughout these recent years of transformation, is to not get too attached to a place, for your life can change in a breath. We are making the most of the comforts of a house before we hit the unknown road, where we will venture to the depths of the Himalayas, working closely with the Australian Himalayan Foundation and women’s refuges like Her Farm Nepal, across India, Nepal and Bhutan, before heading East crossing into China, Mongolia, Korea and finally Japan, my kids’ second land of origin.
What follows that adventure we are yet to be sure, but one thing we do know is that the more we live outside the box, the more we grow, and the more we grow, the more we live our most authentic selves.