The Fabulous Life of Travel Bloggers

Our life is not bad at all. Stunningly beautiful landscapes surround us almost every day, we can feel wind in our hair and cherish freedom, we get to live in little paradises, meet extraordinarily interesting people, with whom we savour the taste of local delicacies. Truly, we’re living the five-star life. Only sometimes, we do… not.

Sometimes we set up our tent by romantic streams and sometimes… not.

By now we slept on bare fields in the middle of nowhere, in bushes of various shapes and densities, and in a forest filled with love-seeking deer, whose calls made us crap our pants. We’re fond of fire stations, where our experiences range from being lulled to sleep with the repeating wails of the siren, to having a whole gymnasium for our exclusive use, together with the assorted shower and bathroom stalls. An honorable mention must go to the Molika restaurant in Kosovo, which gave up half of its terrace for our tent. Yet usually we end up in the middle of a village, wondering how to handle the number two question.

Pro-tip: if you’re into inducing social media envy of your swank tent spot, do not ask the locals where to pitch. Otherwise you may end up like this:

Sometimes we choose spots to make breaks over instagram worthy panoramas and sometimes… not.

Ania prefers to push up the hill until she finds a rewarding view, while Marcin, a rather straight-forward fellow, simply says he had enough and stops right where he is, which frequently turns out to be a clump of bushes smelling of urine or a spot of concrete. It’s the same kind of place where we usually catch a flat tire.

Sometimes we ride red convertibles and sometimes… not.

It could also be the back of a twenty-year-old pick up truck whose previous passenger was a dead sheep, or maybe an even older boat stuffed with sacks of corn on one side, and with men drinking rakija and energy drinks at 5 in the morning.

Sometimes we take a shower every day and cut our hair more than twice a year and sometimes.. not.

The longest we survived without a shower while cycling was seven days. We didn’t stink a lot (long live wet wipes!) but our heads were itchy! Now we’re quite skilled in taking care of ourselves in the weirdest of circumstances. Ania will always find a way to wash her hair, be it a hand-pump at a village well or a roadside stream, where she also provides entertainment for the passing drivers.

Sometimes we turn on the dishwasher and sometimes… not.

We can easily cook our dinner and do the dishes using six litres of water (with help of paper towels). A nice stream is helpful though!

Sometimes we eat in secret tavernas and sometimes… not.

It happens that we’d be cooking Thai curry in a Slovakian ditch or spending precious morning hours frying pancakes by the ocean. But sometimes we feel like any effort is too much and have sandwiches two days in a row. It also happens that we have to bear-and-grin a nasty frankfurter soup lovingly made by our host. Whenever in doubt, canned fish are always a great idea when you’re cycling!

Sometimes Lima is welcomed with open arms and sometimes… not.

Our dear old bitch, when separated from us in a new place, cries, howls and scratches holes in doors. That’s why, wherever she’s not wanted, we end up outside as well, on concrete or on a December night ferry in Greece, being blown about, from all sides at once.

Sometimes on workaways we meditatively water tomatoes while glancing at mountain panoramas and sometimes.. not.

Just as often, we move goat shit, do jobs that don’t seem to have any sense whatsoever or chained to a chair on a Sunday produce falafels at a Greek festival.

Sometimes we write our posts while looking at snow capped Cretan peaks and sometimes… not.

As all self-respecting digital nomads, we sometimes open our white macs black dells and acers at a swimming pool with a palm tree view. Usually though, it looks more like this:

A most striking fact: we actually love this kind of wild lifestyle a lot! (excluding the mating deer).

Lima does too.

Or not.

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *