First time behind the Submarine With Wheels.
When I explain that I am travelling South and Central America by bus, people often assume I have an old Volkswagen minibus or van. The conversation stays mellow until they ask for a photo. The statement next is always the same. "It's a bus! Like a real bus." Whether they are gobsmacked at the vehicles 9m length, story or absurdity, people are hooked and inquisitive, further asking, "I need to know more; how did this begin?"
I want to answer, "It had always been a dream of mine to live and travel overseas on a bus with friends. " But the cold hard truth is not as exciting or ruthless. The bus was a fortunate turn of events that led me on this wild journey by chance.
If I had panned this out by creating a plan before embarking on this bus adventure, I would have done a few things differently. Such as paying more attention to those 16hrs of Spanish lessons I half-heartedly attended. Or even a few lessons in driving an oversized vehicle or learning to master manual driving before the bus would have been beneficial. But I didn't. And besides, life's more exciting when you have a loose itinerary.
My sister, myself & bus Swapping beauty life for bus renovating Exploring Patagonia
Sydney, Australia
I grew up living in Newport, a suburban coastal town in Australia on the Northern Beaches of Sydney. I was happy, fit, and healthy, and I enjoyed spending my free time with friends and family. For five years, I built a successful business as a Cosmetic Nurse and Skin therapist. A typical day's work entailed tattooing eyebrows, facial aesthetics and performing cosmetic injections inside a Doctor's practice. I had my fingers in an investment property and was on my way to career success.
My hard work paid off like society programmed us to strive for. I had my fingers in an investment property and was on my way to career success. I was aiming for the Australian dream - a stable income, a home, a relationship or marriage and maybe one day even pop-out kids. But deep down, it wasn't what I wanted. At least not yet.
I had a happy life, although, at times, I would question the wholeness of it and saw it as superficial and striving towards expectations subconsciously pressured by our society and myself. Although deep inside, I had an ache that couldn't be relieved. An inescapable feeling to run away from the tension and stressors of life accumulating in me. I longed to get away and see more of what the world had to offer—the desire to find raw beauty and awe amidst nature in South America.
One of the things I feared most was reminiscing about my life in forty years and thinking, "I should have done that". I wanted to be the badass grandma saying, "When I was a spring chicken, I created an adventure which I will never forget." That said, I saw the perfect opportunity now before I took my career to the next level and married my business. I listened to my head and followed my heart. I quit my job, packed my life into boxes and bought a one-way ticket to South America. And guess what? I never looked back on that decision.
‘The house' - Chile, South America
Only four weeks into my travels, I was accepted for my first 'Work Away' job– an online program where travellers volunteer to work in exchange for accommodation and food. I landed a gig in a little coastal town called Santo Domingo, an hour from Santiago city, in Chile. By day I would help construct a four-level tree house made solely from recycled materials. By the evenings and when we got orders, I would help make wood fire pizza in a handmade mud oven. This house was the beginning of many great memories, the bus's birthplace and a turning point for my travelling future. Little did I know it was here and now that would determine the next six years of my life, chasing wanderlust led by a rusty old bus through 14 countries of Central and South America.
Building tree house Barney & Leve, Bolivia Weekend surf trips
The 'Work Away' house was managed by two lovely local Chilean surfer boys, Jaimie and Manuel. The area is well known for being very affluent as most wealthy Chileans come from Santiago to holiday by the coast. Yet amongst the beachfront mansions, and at the very end of a dirt road, lies a very run-down house a large block of land in front of rolling dunes with perfect ocean views filled with travellers from across the globe. The house could host as many as ten travellers at once, volunteering to help with the going job the boys had hustled to generate a liveable income. This was either a woodfire pizza business, Air BnB, tree house, selling handmade chopping boards, or marketing photography or videography services.
Subsequently, the quirkiness or dysfunction of the house was the ideal disconnection of the usual comforts of home I was used to and prepped us all for bus life. It had an old wooden two-story house with ample living space downstairs, an indoor fireplace, and sleeping headquarters upstairs. We all shared one bedroom with multiple beds resembling a hostel dormitory. The house had many characteristics, such as limited electricity, no onsite washing machine and no hot water. This was comfortable for summer, yet as the winter temperatures settled in, we learned how to shower with the kettle, cooking pot, and teacup.
It was a whirlwind of adventures throughout the four months I lived in the house. An ongoing cycle of surfing, pizza making, tree house building and partying. There were also accidents, the house chimney was on fire one day, and I can't forget I almost fell through the 20m well watering hole and didn't fall through because my arms caught my fall. We consumed bottles of rum, pisco sour and Gato Negro wine like it was water and managed to turn almost anything and possibly every excuse to laugh, dance and enjoy ourselves. If we got to 10.30 PM at night and there were no friends over, it was sure we could sleep peacefully, otherwise, a party would be happening in the loungeroom and the sounds of noise floating throughout our dreams. It was the taste of freedom. It was a life free of commitments and responsibility. Here, we learnt to sacrifice privacy, quietness, clean clothes, functioning electricity and hot showers.
During this wild escapade, an idea came to fruition, and I thought a car or van would be cool to travel around South America. I soon realised this would be too small after I met Jaimie, a super rad girl from California living out of her van. Jaimie impressed me immediately with her fluent Spanish and badass confidence to live alone in a van in the large city of Santiago. She had driven down to Chile from California and inspired me to follow her same path via the Pan Americana Highway.
Jamie and her van Treehouse view from house The Chilean boys
Van vs. Bus
Jaimie introduced me to van life after a quiet weekend getaway from the house to a nearby surf town on the coast. As we road tripped away from the chaos, we ate manjar, (dulce de leche) and discussed her big trip. We spent the weekend cooking, surfing and sleeping inside the van comfortably, just the two of us. Yet I was not completely sold on the idea of a van. One downside of living in a van was the tiny space if offered. Secondly, as I was travelling by myself at this point, the thought of sharing a bed with people I had just met on the road was a little too close to comfort. Lesson learnt: I got scabies from the sheets and sharing Jaimie's bed.
When I realised this, it became apparent I needed something more substantial than a van to have room for other passengers. I dreamt of sharing my experiences with nomads in a rolling community. I have travelled alone before, but it is more memorable when creating adventures with others. Plus, travelling in numbers is cheaper on petrol costs and safer; hence my parents do not worry about me frolicking solo around South America.
When I mentioned my van space dilemma back at the house, Manuel suggested:
"Why not go bigger, double the size and buy a bus?".
He shared stories of himself travelling in Brazil by bus with fifteen other people. Yep, fifteen people slept wherever there was room, on the roof, floor, or aisle. An utterly crazy lifestyle to live, yet I grasped the concept. A bus, is it possible? Like a hamster on a wheel, I pondered the idea in my head for days. After researching Instagram and Youtube for inspiration, I was instantly in love by the "skoolie" community of nomads who had self-converted buses into homes.
I was instantly supported in Chile, although when I shared my dreams with my Australian friends and family, the answers were on a different scale. The Chilean boys gave me their full support backing the idea and allowed me the help, tools, and space required to buy, re-build and create my home on wheels. The consensus back home thought my plan was crazy and far-fetched, and some said it was too much work for a girl or impossible. Yet they were all driven by the fear of the unknown. They had yet to build a bus, so who were they to judge the monstrosity of the task?
While I valued and listened intently to my dearest friends' concerns, I trusted my gut. Everything impossible is always possible if your enthusiasm and mindset are right. Regardless of the outcome, I was not afraid or fearful to fail.
Nevertheless, I was determined, and the idea was stuck.
I would buy a bus!
P.S. If you want to check out Jamies' adventure of her van please do at http://www.infinitejuice.com/. She's an awesome writer and documenter.
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