Giving Up Toast: Unspoken Realities of Van Life

One month and counting in our Crazy/Brave Van-Life Adventure, and we love it! Every day is indeed an adventure (of sorts), a puzzle to figure out. We are constantly planning: what will we do? where will we go? We search out new experiences AND basic services, a series of new places and things.

It is refreshing, exciting, challenging… and sometimes overwhelming.

We knew going in that we’d be giving up a few things, well, a lot of things, in exchange for this random, roaming lifestyle. Now that we are almost a month in, I thought I’d take a look at what we gave up in pursuit of adventure:

Toast

The every-morning staple of our breakfasts is no longer. Van Life toast is possible. But for us, it is definitely more trouble than it’s worth. Our morning meals are largely easy: cereal or oatmeal.

Occasionally, we invent more hearty, interesting breakfasts. Today’s was a leftover rice and egg scramble with veggies that had to be used up, avocado and Elan Sauce*. (It was delicious, by the way.)

Sometimes we are even a bit more ambitious and opt for eggs and beans wrapped in tortillas or fried eggs nestled besides…. bread. Sigh.

Toast, it’s a small thing. But, you know, we do miss it.

Our Own Bathroom

We knew this going in. It was the topic of many (so many!) pre-van life conversations with friends and family. “Do you have a toilet in there?” (No) “Where will you go to the bathroom?” (Well, that depends….)

Being bathroomless is not the best part of van life. It definitely makes some routines more challenging. Ain’t gonna lie, I don’t like having to leave my comfy van bed to go pee outside in the cold. Not one bit. Although the stars, on these nights, make up for the cold… almost.

Generally, we don’t mind “using” the outdoors (responsibly, of course) and there are rest areas and other spots along the way. Pit toilets are not my favorite part of campground camping. Though I’ve discovered that my N95 mask gives me psychological distance when I have to use a particularly nasty one (which is often).

Whatever bathroom situation we manage, it is just that, managing— no longer the comfy little room with the view of the side yard back home. Van-life folks often gloss over this point: no van-bathroom situation can compete with an actual sticks and bricks bathroom. Yer gonna miss it.

Routine

When we hit the road, we very intentionally, gave up our almost-20-years-in-the-same-spot homebound routine. But there are parts of it we miss. Routine can be grounding. I’d be lying if I didn’t mention how much I miss my early mornings: waking to a dark, WARM, quiet house, making my press pot coffee, watching the sun peek over the eastern horizon from the shelter of my living room, a daily shower.

My new morning routine is not entirely different, But getting the coffee basket down, fumbling around with mugs and lighters and filters in the very small space of the van, standing in the cold morning waiting for the water to boil… it’s definitely less comforting.

Bright side is that the coffee itself is SO immensely satisfying each morning. Hard to describe how much I love it.

And there is a primal-ness to needing the sun, to standing on cool, dewy earth, waiting for it to breach the eastern horizon that feels… wonderful.

We’ve begun to develop some new routines; We go for a sunset walk together almost every day. We have “fancy” drinks while waiting on our laundry (Especially if the town we are in has a microbrewery or bar with an outside patio for the dog). But the comfort of the everyday, predictable in some small measure, that is gone.

Distance

Dan and Milo and I are together ALL the time. We share 77 square feet of low-roof living space.

I know, right?

In our old lives, we spent time apart. We’d go off to work, shopping, or any number of activities…. alone, for whole chunks of the day. But no more.

Now that we are on the road, we make sure to give ourselves work space. Dan sets up his “office” outdoors or, when it’s cold (or hot, or dark or rainy) he sits in the swivel seat in the van, or at the library in whatever small town we are in. I take long walks with the dog, explore downtown wherever-we-are, or go rockhounding (my favorite!)

However you slice it, there is definitely less distance. Virtually every experience is a shared one. It’s a good thing we get along really well… and have 24 years’ experience in living together.

Aging has created a few new wrinkles. I can’t even tell you how many times my no-longer-keen, 55 year old ears have run up against Dan’s soft-spokenness. Sometimes I think he speaks in “bubble-thoughts”. Try spending all day, every day, punctuated by “What?” and “I didn’t hear you”, etc. Makes for some funny misunderstandings, but definitely not for sissies.

Proximity

Ironically, while there is no distance between us, we have most definitely, given up proximity… to our family and friends. This “van-life” would be so much better if we were able to share it with those we love.

We “Family Zoom” with our extended crew weekly, and are always texting, calling, “snapping” and “facetiming” with our kids. But it is not the same, and sharing all the things we’re up to feels a little braggy sometimes.

At home, we were within a day’s drive of our grown children. Now it’s at least four. We had an airport nearby and could fly off to far flung family members if needed. Flying isn’t a given when leaving a dog and van/home behind.

Before we hit the road, it was easy to say we could “just drive” to folks. But reality is, a lot of hours and gas dollars separate us from those we love. We are planning ways to visit and connect, but proximity to loved ones is definitely something that we gave up.

Realities Schmealities!

I told myself that if I blogged about this adventure, I would do so truthfully and there it is. Van life is NOT like putting your house on wheels and blithely continuing your old patterns in new and exciting places, at least not the way we’ve done it. Despite all the hashtags and beautiful videos, I doubt it is that way for anyone. Van Life challenges your sense of place, and self, and wreaks havoc on the patterns that might have come to define your life.

It is awesome, but it is more “real” than the pretty pictures might indicate.

*We call this stuff “Elan Sauce” because our cousin, Elan sent this amazing and addicting stuff to us as a gift before we left on our journeys and we have been dousing everything with it ever since. Also, Elan has the special sauce, so it fits.