NYRB is the North American distributor for the UK publisher Notting Hill Editions, who put out beautiful, clothbound pocket-sized books. This fall, they release a unique travel memoir of the Amazon from the neurologist A.J. Lees and a collection of journalism from Winnie-the-Pooh’s A.A. Milne.

A.J. Lees, Brazil That Never Was(September)

As a child, Andrew Lees became obsessed with the British explorer Percy Fawcett, who disappeared in search of a lost Amazonian city. Years later, he followed in his footsteps—and discovered Fawcett’s quest was far stranger than he ever could have anticipated. Brazil That Never Was is part travelogue and part memoir, and a testament to the pitfalls of nostalgia.

A.A. Milne, Happy Half Hours: Selected Writings(October)

BeforeWinnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne was a notable writer of plays, novels, verse, and journalism. Happy Half Hours collects the best of his articles for the humor magazine Punch, ranging from the year 1910 to 1952 and on everything from lost hats and umbrellas, tennis, dogs, and faulty geysers to cheap cigars.

I really intended this blog to continue to be a thing after the Mongol Rally.  Well, now it is over for many (though not all) of us, and I have returned to the protective if smothering bubble of post-graduate studies.  I do intent to regale you with more…

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December 25, 2020 Friday - Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to you all!

This is our holiday mood in our home:

May all your Christmas wishes come true!:⛵⛱☕

Hi friends! 

I just wanted to give you an advance heads up: Travel Paint Repeat is being revived and revamped, and as part of that, it’s moving off Tumblr and onto its own site! The domain (travelpaintrepeat.com) will be the same, but we’ll be hosted elsewhere on a beautifully designed new website. So if you rely on Tumblr to find my new posts, that won’t work anymore! If you’d like to keep up with all the fresh, useful articles and travel advice coming your way, I highly recommend signing up for my email list! I’ll be sending out updates over the next few weeks with new posts to read and inspire your next trip.

Here’s the link to subscribe: http://www.travelpaintrepeat.com/subscribe

Thanks for reading Travel Paint Repeat, and happy travels!

-Megan

Advice for the young, ballsy, and indecisive.

I’ve received a lot of questions from readers lately about careers and jobs, mostly from those in high school, college, or recent graduates. The questions take many forms and specific topics, but the underlying panic is:

“What the hell should I do for a career?!”

Some people seem to know innately what they were born to do, and forge ahead accordingly. Meanwhile, others struggle with the big life decision of settling on a career path. I’ve been on both sides of this coin. I’m only in my late twenties and still figuring things out myself, so I don’t suggest that I have all the answers - but I have learned a few things along the way.

Here are my words of advice, along with a few tools and resources that might help if you’re feeling stuck, indecisive, or anxious about the pressure to Choose Your Perfect Career.

First of all, though, let’s agree on one thing:

The concept of a “perfect career” as we commonly think of it is bullshit. It contains the romantic, narrow, and dangerously incorrect notion that there’s only type of job, profession, or career that you will ever be happy in.

Throw away the fairy tale.

There are no such thing as soul mates, and there is no such thing as your one true perfect career. You can be happy doing a variety of things for love and money.(click to tweet)

I held onto this belief for way too long. From a very young age I believed with full conviction that the life of a gallery-represented painter was the only career that would make me happy, and my ability to achieve this was the only measure by which I could consider myself successful (I know, heavyright?). I drowned my creativity under waves of pressure and perfectionism, trying to live up to my own lofty expectations in an intensely competitive and completely nonsensical market. Thankfully, I was able to dig myself out of this, with my love of painting fragile but intact, and my sense of self sharpened. 

Chances are you’ve been trained to think very singularly about “what you want to do for the rest of your life.” You’ve been (or will be) asked to choose a major in college, maybe even put through lessons and too many extracurricular activities and given aptitude tests. And yes, to get through a college education you will need to choose a major and place your bets on a particular course of action. But the truth is, you are a dynamic, multifaceted being with so many potential directions. You will do many things in life, go down many roads you can’t even foresee right now. And what specific topic you choose to study in college really, honestly, will not matter in the long run, in most cases.

What does matter is what you choose to do with your unique matrix of interests, useful skills, and knowledge. I believe firmly in the concept of designing your own career path. Not everyone has the same path towards the same job (I’m a former painting major now working in social strategy at an advertising agency, for example), and the landscape changes every day. When I was in school, and for even a few years after, the job I have now didn’t even exist.

An entrepreneurial attitude to your career and life is no longer optional. There is no longer a blueprint to follow. You’ve got to make your own way.
(Click to tweet)

“Great! Except… I have no idea where to start.”

If you weren’t blessed with a strong passion or career direction early on in life, please know that you are in fact, quite normal. You probably even hold the advantage - you’re open to many things early on (remember how my initial passion turned out to be quite narrow?). At this stage, it’s a good idea to do some research - about yourself. You are always changing and growing, so no matter where you are in your career, it’s always helpful to check in and get to know you a little better. In my experience, there’s no better way to do this than to put pen to paper.

1. If you want to know yourself, start writing.
Guided writing exercises and workbooks were most helpful to me when I broke free of the idea that there was One True Thing I was supposed to do in life. At that point, 3 years out of college, the girl who always knew what she wanted to do with her life found herself squarely on her ass, unemployed in a new city, wondering anxiously what was next. 

Books can help you, and even give you a somewhat false sense of productivity, but nothing helped more than digging up my own words and arranging them on paper in a way that made sense. It’s totally a metaphor for what’s going on inside you - a jumble of confusion, the right parts are there somewhere but out of order. In a very real way, writing helps put the puzzle pieces together. 

I spent a lot of time reading and poring through books, digital downloads, and countless articles online, but nothing helped guide me through this messy, transformative process like The Desire Map by Danielle Laporte. 

Because of the writing exercises and guidebooks I found in The Desire Map, I came out on the other side a little clearer, and with a firmer understanding that how I want to feel every day should be at the core of these important life decisions. Once you know this, you have your very own proverbial North Star to guide you in countless ways.

(Full disclosure: if you click the link above and decide you want to try The Desire Map too, I’ll receive a small percentage of the sale - but please know I would never endorse something I didn’t use and love myself. In fact, I purchased The Desire Map years ago and still refer to the scribbled notes I took in it frequently.)

And if you already have a passion, and are sure you know what you want to do, great! 
As you get older and more experienced, be open to letting that unfold and evolve. I clung desperately to this narrow idea of what I was supposed to do with my life mostly out of fear. Everyone my whole life expected me to become a successful artist, and I’d seen so many people give up along the way – the last thing I wanted was to be seen as giving up too. But after a while, I realized I’ll always be an artist so long as I keep painting, external recognition be damned - and anyone who thinks otherwise can jump in a lake. Plenty of successful artists hold down day jobs, and many even keep them when they don’t need the money because they like them and find them fulfilling. It doesn’t have to be so black and white.

Which leads me to my second piece of advice…

2. If you want to understand how others have done it, stalk people on LinkedIn.
When I was “squarely on my ass” and unemployed with no direction, the reason I figured out what kind of careers might be a good fit for me is I incessantly stalked people on LinkedIn. 

Get on LinkedIn if you’re not, and search for people who started from similar places. It’s not hard to reverse-engineer their career paths. How did they move from one job to another? The more digital-savvy of them will have very complete profiles that easily allow you to examine how they got from A to B, or what traits or job responsibilities helped them pivot from one industry or role to another if something wasn’t working for them.

LinkedIn recently even launched a tool called Field of Study Explorer to make your stalking/reverse-engineering even easier. Check it out in their new blog post (well worth a read all on its own), “Does Studying Fine Art = Unemployment? Introducing LinkedIn’s Field of Study Explorer.” 

A writer for Mashable also tested this idea, working with LinkedIn’s data science team  to find his “future self” among other LinkedIn users with a similar background: “How LinkedIn Found My ‘Future’ Self.” 

In my case, there were several people who unknowingly helped me understand what my possibilities were, but one in particular later became my friend. One day while searching for profiles and jobs on LinkedIn, I saw that a fun-looking woman around my age named Elysa had attended my university for a graphic design degree and worked her way from designer to well-known leader in the field of digital strategy (and a successful blogger to boot!). She was kind enough to meet me for coffee on her way to a speaking engagement at SXSW. I learned so much from that one conversation – as a jobless 25 year old, I understood at that point that the only thing separating me from progress was myself.

The only thing was, I still needed to figure out how to make money from what I’d discovered with The Desire Map.

Remember that unique matrix of useful skills, interests, and knowledge I mentioned earlier? 

3. Well, here it is:

Click here to use this Google Sheet for yourself: http://bit.ly/gridtoolmv

It’s critical to remember that if you want to make money at something, it has to be useful to others. This very basic principle applies whether you’re someone’s assistant (no shame here, I’ve done it!) in which you are selling your organizational services in exchange for benefits and a salary, or you’re a gallery painter selling the product of artwork that brings real joy to its new owners.

To understand these transactions as anything else (I’m just an employee! I’m not selling anythingor,I’m not selling a product - how dare you, I’m an artist!) is to not fully understand business or the real world, or as Ramit Sethi calls it, the game being played around you. And the sooner you get on board with this concept, the better equipped you’ll be to find a career that both makes you happy and makes you money.

My very sincere advice would be to think long and hard about what you enjoy doing (even just hobbies - doesn’t have to be “job-like”) and what you’re naturally skilled at (things like “being a good listener” and “talking to people about their problems” totally count here, by the way) and compare that to what you think might actually be useful to random people you don’t know. Put more simply,

What are you good at or enjoy doing that solves other people’s problems?

Start there. With some soul searching, writing, and very realistic analysis, you’ll find yourself starting down a path to a long, lucrative career path that is uniquely yours, fun, exciting and never static.

—
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It’s been a pretty cool week for me as a blogger! In addition to my article, How Budget Travel Can Lead to More Authentic Experiences being featured on the front page of eHow, Yahoo Travel has selected Travel Paint Repeat as its Tumblr of the Day! 

Here’s what they had to say:

Visit Travel Paint Repeat for insights into how travel can change us, and to peruse the gorgeous photos; stay for the money-saving tips and travel hacks.

Click here to see the full feature.

ThanksYahoo Travel for sharing my travel writing and photography with others. 

Know someone who’s planning a trip? Maybe just dreaming about it and needs a little kick in the pants? With the holidays right around the corner, I thought I’d share some ideas for gifts that might be of interest to anyone from the wanderlusty travel slacker to the seasoned frequent flyer. From books that’ll inspire you to leave home to products I’ve used on my trips (and now don’t leave for the airport without), this is my personal list of the best loot for the travel-minded.

Best of all, most of these are under $20!In no particular order:

1. Gift Subscription to Afar Magazine. Hands down the best, most beautiful magazine I’ve seen for those who prefer independent, off the beaten path experiences when they travel. Published 7 times a year, this publication features very well curated recommendations, a behind-the-scenes look at destinations, and great advice on traveling like a local, all packaged within gorgeous, stunning photography and editorial design. $20 for 1 year (7 issues).

2. Travelon Bag Bungee. I’m a big fan of small rolling suitcases (and fitting 2 weeks’ worth of clothing inside). For long trips, it can get pretty tiring hauling a duffel or one of those huge monstrosities you see backpackers wear (though I’m sure they’re great, I never enjoy looking like a tourist when I’m in a foreign country, and guess what those instantly accomplish?). However, you’re bound to have more than just the suitcase. Any kind of extra bag - laptop bag, “personal item”, purse, sack, or even shopping bag is going to be difficult to manage at the same time as your jacket, boarding pass, passport, bottle of water, sanity, etc. So, what do you do? You bungee it! I can’t believe I did my big 17-day trip to the Middle East and Spain last year without this thing. It’s great. It will literally hold anything on top of your suitcase that won’t fall between the 2 bars of your handle. At one point in Croatia we were balancing a nerdy man-purse on this thing with open side pockets containing a 1-liter bottle of wine on one side and some red party cups in the other (that were inexplicably tiny - I have no idea how Croatians would play beer pong). So, yeah. I recommend it. $11.20 on Amazon.

3. 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. This is a great book for someone who knows they want to travel but isn’t sure where they should go. This is also a great reference for someone who’s already well-traveled – there’s sure to be an idea in here to inspire their next trip. From $15.36 (paperback).

4. Inflatable Neck Pillow. Long flights, economy seats (well, that’s how I fly anyway - when you’re flying for free you’re pretty happy with coach!). Comfort level - not high. But have you ever seen someone with one of these neck pillows attached to the outside of their luggage, or (cringe) worse - around their necks as they walk through the airport. Yeah, don’t be that guy. Be the guy with the neck pillow that stays hidden and takes up zero space until you get on the plane. I give you, the inflatable neck pillow. (This particular brand has a huge valve – not your typical balloon valve – that allows you to inflate and deflate quickly, with minimal effort.) Available on Amazon for $12.30.

5. The New York Times, 36 Hours: 125 Weekends in Europe. This gorgeous hardcover book compiles the best of the New York Time's 36 Hours series, with this book focusing on Europe. I myself have taken amazing trips to locations that were otherwise not on my radar (like Cartagena, Colombia), inspired solely by these 36 Hour articles - check them out even if you don’t get this book. $34.04 (hardcover).

6.Luckies of London Scratch Map. Getting back from a trip and reconciling your amazing adventure with your regular life can be tough. You want to keep the memory alive while staying motivated to plan your next trip. Hang up this unique scratch map in your living room, scratch off the areas you’ve been, and await both the envy of your friends and the nagging voice of your inner travel addict urging you to scratch off more places… Available for $20.55.

7.Pilot & Capt. Civic Pride Shirts. Let’s face it, most souvenir t-shirts suck. They scream “I’m a tourist” even when you’re back on domestic soil. Alternatively, maybe you found a nice-looking one but hesitated to buy during your trip because you had limited luggage space. Instead, pick up one of these shirts when you get back (or to help celebrate someone else’s big trip!) to express your love for the city you left your heart in. (Available in a limited number of city versions for now, but let’s hope that changes.) $32.00 from pilotandcaptain.com.

8. Travel Power Strip. Imagine you (or your lucky traveling gift receiving friend!) has just returned from a tiring, exciting day of exploring a new city. They arrive back at their hostel or hotel and realize their camera or phone (or both!) is low on battery. Oh, and their travel partner’s phone is too! But there’s only one adapter. Or, they have multiple adapters but there is only one working outlet that is so dodgy it has to be un-plugged a tiny bit at just the right angle to actually let electricity flow (I’m looking at you, Rome Airbnb apartment). Voila! Buy 1 adapter, and then this thing, which (as power strips tend to do) allows you to plug in multiple devices at once. And it’s slim and compact, so it won’t take up much room in your luggage. Trust me, this is a must if you’re traveling with someone. No more battling over who gets to charge their iPhone first so they can finally upload the day’s 2,046 photos to Instagram now that they’re within wifi range again (never book a room that doesn’t have free wifi). Available on Amazon for $9.49.

9. Goal-Zero Solar Recharging Kit. Speaking of power issues. What if there isn’t an outlet at all? Because you’re… outside? Or on the go so much there isn’t a chance to sit down and recharge? Pick up this recharging kit (which can be powered by either the sun in 5 hours or a USB cord) and never worry about having enough juice again. Probably not a necessity for most everyday travel, but a must for adventurous, outdoorsy hiking and camping trips. $82.39 on Amazon.

10. Delaying the Real World: A Twentysomething’s Guide to Seeking Adventure. This is the perfect guide for young people who are inspired to travel but not sure how to make it happen. Speaking from personal experience, it’s already tough navigating that stage of life without also trying to figure out how to deviate from the standard post-college track. This is the ultimate handbook for young aspiring travelers. From $7.74 (paperback).

11. Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel. A better guide for longer-term travel (6 weeks or longer), this is a great resource for planning a longer break from your regular life to travel the world. From $11.07 (paperback).

12. Moleskine City Notebooks. The first city guide you write yourself, these notebooks are a cross between a guidebook and a travel journal. Each highly personalizable notebook features a city map (including zoomed-in versions and a metro map), 12 zone maps with street indexes, several blank pages within a 96-page tabbed archive ready for you to record all of your impressions, favorite places, and memories, and much more. From $16.16. (Moleskine also makes more generic Travel Journals.)

13. Journeys Of A Lifetime: 500 of the World’s Greatest Trips [National Geographic]. A highly visual guide, this beautiful hardcover book specializes in the sort of adventure travel you’d expect to see from National Geographic. Not the best resource for exploring city life in other countries, but a great inspiration for everything else (and looks nice on your coffee table, too). Available on Amazon for $28.72 (hardcover).

14. Kindle. I have to say, I wasn’t sold on Kindles at first. I really like the tactile experience of holding a book while reading it. However, for travel, this thing really is necessary. Travel involves two things: limited space/weight capacity in your luggage, and lots of waiting time. Even if you’re not packing as light as I do, you still probably don’t want to waste precious luggage space on a big thick book (or two or three!), especially if some of them are guidebooks – but you still want to be able to read your favorite books to pass the time in airports, trains, etc. The Kindle Paperwhite is your best option if you think you’ll be reading in dark circumstances or in bright light (beaches come to mind). $119 for a Kindle Paperwhite, or standard Kindles run from $69.

15. The Best American Travel Writing 2013. Guest-edited by Elizabeth Gilbert (New York Times bestselling author of Eat Pray Love fame), this collection of the year’s best travel writing will definitely be making it onto my wish list this year. $11.55, (paperback).

16. Dream Essentials Sleep Mask & Ear Plugs. Equally necessary for both countries with pre-sunrise Islamic calls to prayer broadcast over loudspeakers from the nearest mosque AND loud European city streets below windows that must stay open due to a lack of air conditioning. Put on this stylish (ha) mask, pop in the accompanying ear plugs, and you’re dead to the world. Also great for airplanes. $9.95 on Amazon.

17. Point It: Traveler’s Language Kit - The Original Picture Dictionary. This dictionary features no words, just pictures of most things you’d need to refer to when abroad. Next time you’re in a country without any knowledge of the language (not recommended, but sometimes unavoidable, particularly for more obscure locales), simply flip open the book, point at the item in question, and let your awkward hand gesturing take care of the rest. Available used on Amazon from $5.98 or for $9.95 new at the MOMA store.

18.REI Clothesline.If you’re packing more than a week’s worth of clothing at a time, you’re going to need to worry about laundry at some point. When you’re traveling on a budget and you’re in a foreign country, sometimes the easiest, least-hassle option is just to hand-wash in the sink of your hotel room (and if you’re doing any kind of camping, it’s your only option!). This clothesline will allow you to hang up your undies to dry no matter where you are. $7 at REI.

19. Better Than Fiction: True Travel Tales from Great Fiction Writers. If this Lonely Planet compilation of short memoirs by some of the world’s best novelists doesn’t inspire you to start your own adventure, I’m not sure anything will. $12.26 (paperback).

So there you have it - my list of top gift ideas for travel addicts and aspiring travelers alike. Did I miss something? Let me know!
–

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We spend our whole days moving. Scenes and images flitting past us in a blur of motion, trying to ingrain as many sights and sounds into our memories as we can. So much to take in, so many moments to keep.⁣ So when we finally settle down for the day, on whatever nameless piece of land, or road, or body of water we find, I like to sit with myself, and just be.⁣

I listen to the sounds of birds or bells or the cry of the muezzin, I watch the sky fade from blue into purple then from fiery gold into black, like the extinguished flames of a fire. If it’s cold I’ll wrap a blanket round my legs to sit in the doorway for as long as I can stand until the night air creeps indoors and I am forced to close it. This silence allows me to take it all in, to digest the many experiences a life of travel hands me like gifts.⁣

I wouldn’t want to waste one second of the time we’re on the road, this time we’ve worked so hard to earn, and this is my small way in which to appreciate it all. My memories are worth more than all the money I could earn, pressed safely between the pages of a book and encapsulated in photographs forever.

Not every day on the road can be an adventure. We need rest days, van repair days, life admin days.⁣

Days where we just chill, where we sleep in late and sip coffee gazing out of the back doors. Days where we clean the van from top to bottom or catch up on our work. Rainy days spent cosied up under blankets trying to catch the various leaks in our roof.⁣

Contrary to our little highlight reel on here it’s not all epic roadtrips and new discoveries; for every day of exploring there’s a down day closely following behind (or two, or three…). Constant motion is exhausting; travel sometimes overstimulating. We need time to process and digest just as much as we crave new experiences and changing scenery.⁣

As with everything in life it’s all about balance, and the days spent sipping coffee in bed are just as important as the days we’re out scaling mountains.

The SH75 was a road we’d been warned about.⁣

Snaking its way through the endless mountainous landscape in the South East corner of Albania, this road was as long as it was arduous. Many of the roads here had not been paved since the time of communism, instead being left to the devices of nature and only those who were prepared to take the challenge of a day’s drive to their destination.⁣

We left the beautiful Ottoman city of Korçë behind us and began to wind our way South close to the border with Greece. The road started off well, threading through fields and beautiful scenery, but by hour two it had descended into no more than a patchwork of half-assed repairs. By hour five the novelty had worn off and we were growing tired, our van battered and bruised from the relentless bumps.⁣

We pulled over by the side of the gravel track when a clunking noise underneath our van grew loud enough for concern. There, by the roadside, we reattached a piece of our steering column as well as a shock absorber that had rattled so loose it was about to fall off, all the while minibuses went hammering past us, honking and waving in solidarity or offering help.⁣

Our van patched up, we descended the final few kilometres which took hours due to the state of the road. Night fell and we were still meandering down this hellish road, dodging potholes and herds of cattle until finally we made it into the safe clutches of Permët, the first town we’d ever visited in Albania, and the sense of relief and familiarity overwhelmed us.

Coffee. I could talk for hours about it. Turkish coffee, Bosnian coffee, espresso, mocha, bónbón, iced, hot, sweet, black…⁣

Drunk slowly in the morning, soaking in the view. Knocked back in the passenger seat pulling my shoes on and hurrying to start the day’s adventure. Drunk in a little nowhere cafe over light conversation amidst a silver cigarette smoke haze.⁣

Coffee is integral to the start of any day in the Balkans, be it paired with lokum, or baklava, or a shot of rakia and a cigarette- the Balkan breakfast way.⁣

But possibly the best way to take our coffee is brewed up on a little camp stove inside a chipped old enamel pot, prepared by a warm-hearted local by the fire in their home.⁣

The hospitality in the Balkans is unparalleled, unfaltering, woven into their every way of life. It’s impossible not to feel touched and almost taken aback as we, coming from a country with such closed doors and minds, are not prepared for this level of kindness.⁣

And it’s this warm welcome that will keep us coming back to the Balkans for many many years to come.

Driving down these lonesome dirt track roads, icy waters below us, empty mountains all around.⁣

Miles and miles and nothing but silence, nameless peaks stretching toward the sky dusted with patches of white. Those sunset clouds splashed unusual shades of deep purple and dusty rose pink casting a colour haze across the landscape that’s hard to describe, the fleeting kind that comes only after rain and lasts just a few minutes before it’s gone again.⁣

Our tyres ploughed through deep, sticky mud to reach the small ridge that would become home for the night. We wrapped our faces in scarves against the cold and scrambled down the bank to skim stones across the lake’s frozen surface; they bounced and echoed with a bullet ricochet sound that reverberated around the valley and clattered through our ears.⁣

These were the only noises we would hear all night; no birds, no cars, no wind or rain, just us above this frozen lake as the colours slowly melted and the stars came into view.⁣

So much of Albania was just wild land, beautiful places that would not appear on any hiking trail or in any guide book, free to explore, yours to enjoy. With no fences or barriers to hold us back we could pitch up and call anyplace home for the night, and that was just the kind of freedom we craved.⁣

Oh how good it was to be back in this land again.⁣

There’s something about a dirt track road which never fails to excite us. It holds within it the promise of adventure, a challenge, and no guarantee of if we’ll make it to the end.⁣

Driving around Albania is very much a game of chance; sometimes you’ll find yourself on the smoothest paved road, other times that road will unexpectedly run out and you find yourself bumping down miles of relentless gravel and rock. Sometimes we’re up for the challenge; sometimes it proves too much for our old van and we are forced to backtrack.

We alternate here between the desperate need to escape from civilisation and the sweet relief that tarmac provides.⁣

But the Balkans offer everything we lack back in England; unpaved roads, a slackening of regulations, the freedom to roam. There are rules but nobody pays attention to them. There’s a general lack of fucks given. Nobody’s all up in your business telling you where you can and can’t be or what you can and can’t do. For some the craziness may be overwhelming; to us it’s a breath of fresh air.⁣

We find peace amongst the chaos, freedom weaving through rough dirt roads, and adventure waiting for us around every turn. And that’s just the way we like it.

When we arrived in Albania on an unseasonably warm January day our hearts were fraught with a mixture of emotions: comfort, familiarity, but also a degree of hesitation. We had fond memories of our time in this country, but were they simply painted bright by nostalgia, and would our second visit live up to expectation?⁣

Our answers to these questions came on just our second day here.⁣

We’d spent the day basking in sunshine, washing our van and dipping our bodies into the icy waters of Lake Prespa, and were just beginning to enjoy one of those spectacular Albanian sunsets which painted the mountains the particular shade of purple that was so ingrained into our memories. We went to fire up the engine but our van refused to start; the batteries were too flat, the air too cold. The engine got slower and slower until it had no juice left to give. We were now faced with the prospect of a night here with no power, no heating and no light; we’d seen approximately three cars all day and the light outside was rapidly fading.

Yet somehow, whether by miracle or fate or pure coincidence, a car approached just two minutes later. We waved them down, explained as best we could what had happened, and the man along with all six members of his family came over to help us. We had no jump leads but this didn’t deter him, and in the most Balkan display of ingenuity and problem solving he had our van running in no time by swapping our battery with the one from his car, starting the engine then swapping them back around while it was still running. He even fixed the loose positive terminal with a screw.⁣

Feeling like we’d been a burden we offered him a shot of rakia as a thank you and his face lit up; they then immediately invited us to join them for their son’s birthday party at a nearby restaurant. Instead of spending a cold, dark night in our van we spent the evening drinking, sampling local cuisine, having conversations via Google Translate, eating homemade baklava and birthday cake and toasting each member of the table with a hearty, “ë!”⁣

What a welcome back into Albania.

Our last few days in Macedonia were spent enveloped in a freezing fog which shrouded our view and promised snow which never came. We woke up daily to frost inside the windscreen and icicles hanging off our van. The fog wrapped itself around every plant, every rock and every being, leaving each wrapped in thick kisses of ice, turning the entire landscape silver and white without a snowflake ever falling from the sky.⁣

We were camped up on the peaceful shores of Lake Prespa, undisturbed by anyone, wrapped up in thick layers of blankets against the minus temperatures outdoors.⁣

Truthfully, the Macedonians were used to colder climates this time of year, and -7°C at night was the result an unseasonably mild winter; we had returned to the country expecting snow, and we were leaving disappointed on that front.⁣

But we were leaving confident that we had made the right decision to return; after cutting our time here short to leave for Greece in December we’d been aching to explore more of the country, and we’d been fortunate enough to enjoy an extra two weeks here getting to know the southern regions and the Macedonian way of life.⁣

We’d met some lovely people, experienced welcoming in the Orthodox New Year with rakija and fireworks, witnessed the crazy tradition of jumping into ice cold water on Epiphany Day, sampled delicious food and learned so much about a country that had never even been on our radar.⁣

That morning we left for Albania with conflict in our hearts; we were leaving for a country we’d long since fallen in love with, but we were leaving behind a blossoming romance with a land that had stolen our hearts and captured our souls.⁣

⁣Truthfully we loved the entirety of the Balkans, but we had found a special place in the very heart of the Balkan Peninsula, and when our trip was finally over Macedonia was where we’d be yearning to return.

Ever wanted to camp up on your own private island for a few days?⁣

Us too, and although this small patch of land that gradually disappears into a fine point and sinks into Lake Prespa isn’t technically an island it was as close as we would probably get to one in our van.⁣

We were surprised to find a small village at the end of this long and bumpy track, emptied of all its inhabitants for the winter as an icy slush began to fall from the sky. Boats littered the shores of the lake, empty and lifeless without people to navigate them. We were the only forms of life for miles, basking in the peace and solitude we craved.⁣

The really special thing about this place was that it sat on the corner of three countries; behind us was North Macedonia, to the side of us was Albania and in front of us was Greece. The Greek stretch of land was dotted with streetlights at night, the Albanian side had a few but the Macedonian side had none. Moody mountains wrapped in snow clouds dominated the skyline, islands and pelicans punctuated the lake’s glassy surface, and soft drops of ice gently pelted the roof as we sat cosied away inside our van cradling cups of mountain tea.⁣

By morning the snow had cleared, replaced by brilliant sunshine and swirling vapour clouds. It was warm enough in fact for a dip in the lake, its cooling, shallow waters sought after by Macedonians in the summer but unsurprisingly empty during the winter. Still, it was good enough for us whose last shower was too long ago to bear thinking about.⁣

A fishing boat sailed past as we were drying off, then we packed up and moved on in the direction of Lake Ohrid, Prespa’s neighbouring lake. Here we were to watch a hundred people dive into its icy waters for the chance to be the first to catch a cross blessed by a priest and thrown into the waters as part of the Orthodox Epiphany celebrations, with nothing to warm them up afterwards but rakija.⁣

Perhaps we weren’t the only crazy ones after all.

Another day of life in the wild.⁣⠀

⁣

One of our last few days in Bosnia, spent amongst snow and pine, sprucing up before our big journey home-bound. We’d be returning worn out and penniless, with a broken van and a clutch of precious new memories, yet we did not regret a single moment of the last six months.⁣

It’s a taboo subject to talk about money, but we left for this trip with just a few grand between us. For six months of living and travelling over 15,000 miles- that’s not a lot.⁣

And so to anyone who says that we are privileged: you’re wrong. Our lifestyle is not a privilege, it is the product of hard work, ruthless saving and months of rigorous planning. All in the name of following our dreams, all in hope that someday we might be able to make the money to sustain doing what we love. All for that little taste of freedom.⁣

And it was worth every freezing night, every stale loaf of bread, every skipped meal, every dinner scraped together out of leftovers, every push to get to the next fuel station and every questionable road. We have not lived well but boy have we lived.⁣

We’ve driven spectacular roads, spent evenings in the company of welcoming locals, sampled cuisines and cultures from all walks of life, been to unbelievably remote locations and captured it all through the glass of a lens.⁣

See we’re not just doing this for a jolly, to escape the 9-5; we’re doing this because we have a passion and the tenacity to chase our dreams. We sacrificed comfort and security for the promise of something so much bigger.⁣⠀

You don’t have to be rich to travel; we’re proof of that. All you need is a dream, and the desire to chase that dream.⠀

Calm seas in Stornoway

The final push to Lewis began with a ridiculous climb into an alien landscape of vast, smooth bare mountains and slate-grey lochs. Yellow snow poles flanked the road, bent in wild directions by the ferocious wind. We came through a small pine forest – virtually the first trees we’ve seen on the Outer Hebrides – and ate square sausage sandwiches in their shelter. Half the square sausage had ended up splattered over M’s trousers as we cooked on a wobbly boulder the night before, and he smelled like a fry-up.

The clusters of homes became hamlets, then sizeable villages, and finally the sprawling edges of Stornoway: the biggest town we’ve seen for weeks. It had an Argos! We nipped to MacLeod & MacLeod butchers for some of their famous black pudding, and then took the long road across the barren moors, towards Lewis’ most northerly point. The wind pushed us along to the Butt of Lewis lighthouse. We cooked the black pudding to celebrate making it to the official end of the Hebridean Way, and kept M’s trousers well out of reach this time.

Going back against the wind was a horrible slog. Squally showers kept dousing us, but when they stopped there would be a fantastic rainbow somewhere in the stormy sky. We passed shops with sets of rusty trolleys in their tiny car parks, and a man refuelling his tractor at the single petrol pump. Turning off towards Shawbost, we leaned even more deeply into the wind. High hills rose on the horizon, blocking the view of the sea. We passed an enormous whalebone arch and then, exhausted, pulled up at our AirBnB on a working croft.

Siaron and Keith, who out were feeding the chickens in their tornado-proof run, looked after us like we were family. They put M’s trousers in the wash and made up the most comfortable bed ever. I was fast asleep by 8.30pm. We had breakfast together, listening to their stories of transporting their entire smallholding – including sheep, horses, dogs and a single goose – over on the Stornoway ferry. To be a proper islander you had to last three winters, Siaron had been told. It was barely autumn and I was ready to call it a day.

We set off into the howling wind once again, cycling through a landscape steeped in history. We saw the reconstructed Norse Mill and Kiln, reminders that Viking raiders settled on Lewis and stayed for 350 years, and then found the Neolithic Callanish Stones. They are 500 years older than Stonehenge, with a circle of stones surrounding a chambered tomb and then four avenues branching off in the shape of a crucifix. Until the 1850s they were covered in five feet of peat, but they now stand tall and proud up on their bluff.

Our last stop was Bernera, a tiny island with a bridge over the Atlantic to get there. Cycling up a hill with a rocky cliff-face beside us, I heard a squeaky cry and then a golden eagle flew over me about ten metres away – absolutely massive, with fierce yellow talons. M was waiting at the top of the climb, looking in the other direction. “Eagle! Eagle!” I shrieked from down the road. He turned just in time to see it settle on a ledge a few metres from him. It was magical to see it so close up, and we spotted it, or another, a few more times as we creaked to Bostagh Beach.

After both getting off to push our bikes up one of the steepest roads I’ve ever seen, we reached Bostagh. By a picnic bench, in a little sheltered dip, was the most perfect tent-sized patch of flat grass. The tide was in and only a sliver of the white-sand beach was visible, with a tide bell mounted on a seaweed-covered rock. Beyond was the turquoise sea. Nothing but ocean until Canada, its rocky shores hidden away by the curve of the Earth, which my Taid taught me when I was little. Rain blew across. When it stopped, the end of the rainbow came down right outside our little tent.

Read the next Island Hopping blog: Autumn in the Highlands

Really wild camping. Bostagh Beach, Scotland

The Norse Mill and Kiln at Shawbost, Outer Hebrides, UK

Dream cottages in Scotland, UK

Harris is one of the best places in Scotland to see golden eagles, and I was on high alert, yelling “EAGLE!” and pointing wildly into the sky several times a day, often at a seagull. M is a very patient person. We saw only soaring buzzards and a helicopter on the spectacular coast road to Tarbert, though the helicopter kept landing on a fishing vessel and carrying a full barrel of something up into the hills, which was very exciting. Initially we thought we’d busted a drugs smuggling ring with a James Bond mountain lair, but we now think it was salmon restocking.

In Tarbert we picked up the binoculars we had each ordered in, plus some brake parts for M’s bike that had got corroded from all the bracing sea air. We refuelled with an enormous burger each near the Harris Gin distillery, and then set off on the road to Scalpay (a bonus extra island). The road swept down across a bog and then up and over the headland above Tarbert. We crossed the tall concrete bridge onto Scalpay and could see Skye’s Cuillin Ridge once again.

Just before the village was a sign declaring HOME BAKING, and in an honesty box were piles of delicious things. The baker herself, cheerful Riona, was just emptying the box for the evening but let us buy some millionaire shortbread. We were cheerfully describing the measly dinner we were about to make ourselves (“couscous again!”) when she went inside to get us some fresh eggs, refusing payment but requesting the pink egg carton back in the morning.

We went on to Eilean Glas Lighthouse, down a gravel track that bounced through the boggy ground. The red-and-white striped top showed over the last hill and then we could see the lighthouse in all its glory, with some old cottages for the keepers at its base and a fantastic rusty foghorn sticking out into the Minch. Just before it was a bothy, and lo and behold the door was unlocked. It was very basic, with just a wooden floor and a picnic bench – no electricity or running water – but it was shelter. We cooked up the eggs as the sky turned pink and the lighthouse began to flash its gentle warning into the darkening sea.

We retraced our steps in the morning and were just rising out of the bog when I saw the eagle – which was actually an eagle this time. It was a white-tailed eagle being mobbed by a tiny speck of a crow. It flew fast and low on its barn door wings, then twisted away so we saw its distinct white bum. It flew miles off but we managed to keep it in our sights and watched it soar over the tops of the Harris hills.

We dragged ourselves back over them in turn, through a brutal headwind and an icy hailstorm, and then cycled along the longest 2km of gravel ever to the North Harris Eagle Observatory. It was hidden deep in the recess of a valley, beside a silvery slip of river. We’d not even got through the door when a golden eagle came shooting over the top of the valley wall and sailed on the thermals in the tawny glow of sundown. We saw it again a little later, dark against a darkening sky, and then it was gone to its eyrie and us to ours.

Read the next Island Hopping blog: To the end of the rainbow

Eilean Glas Lighthouse. Isle of Scalpay, UK

The Outer Hebrides are the last bastion of Sabbath observation in Scotland. As we cycled up from the southern cluster of islands, crossing onto Grimsay (island six of ten) and then North Uist (island seven), the dominant faith changed from Catholicism to the Calvinistic Free Church, who take the Sabbath very seriously.

Not a single shop, bakery or restaurant was open as we cycled through the last of the sea fret, which swirled around the mirror-smooth surface of the water. All the traffic was people in their Sunday best, making their way to church. No washing hung out to dry and no children played. Rumours still abound that people tie up playground swings to stop them being used.

We reached The Tractor Shed, accommodation in an adorable little wooden hut for two nights, which luckily was open. Storytelling Yorkshireman Duncan was our host. We settled in with a cup of tea and he told us about Hercules the trained grizzly bear, who was shipped over to the Outer Hebrides for a Kleenex advert in 1980 and went rogue (“he’d been watching too many nature documentaries”). He was on the run for 24 days before turning up, half starved, near someone’s croft. “Catching salmon is harder than it looks,” said Duncan.

Under the eaves of our hut was a deck and a little burner. M got a peat fire going in the evening light and we huddled around it as a legitimate hoolie began to blow. The wind howled all night and all of the next day. Two sets of frozen cycle tourists turned up, the first we’d seen going our way since we got off the ferry on Barra, and we swapped stories in the kitchen.

When it came our turn to leave, the wind was still whipping. At first it was a vicious, bullying crosswind, trying to shove us into the sinking peat bogs beside the road. Pouring rain came for good measure, and then the wind turned completely so we were pushing against it like it was solid. Every time I thought we were going to crest a hill and see the causeway to Berneray (island eight) laid out for us, there was yet another hill to be crested.

Finally we could see the grey water and the orange display board saying the ferries were all cancelled for the day. The tiny terminal had nothing but a hard wooden bench, but at least it was indoors. We took our waterproofs off to drip-dry and watched the energy-generating windmill outside trying to wrench from its concrete foundations, spinning so fast it was a blur.

Berneray’s little shop and bistro was just around the corner, so we braved it on foot to get some hot food. In the carpark was a Forecasting Stone. STONE IS WET: RAINING said the sign. SWINGING STONE: WINDY. STONE GONE: TORNADO. It didn’t feel far off.

The storm blew itself out and dawn came blue and gold and gorgeous. Just after sunrise we got on the ferry to Leverburgh. In 2006 this crossing had invoked fury amongst the islanders, and even a legal challenge, when operators CalMac added a Sunday sailing. An article from the time describes the ferry docking to posters that read “Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it Holy” but no protesters – that would have broken the Sabbath. There was no welcoming committee for us on Harris either (island nine!) but there was sunshine, which I would take any day.

Read the next Island Hopping blog: Hunting eagles on Harris