Over the holidays, we saw quite a few friends for the first time since moving into the van. The most common comments were:
1) “It’s way bigger than I realized from the pictures!” – Yep! From tires up, Vanjie is about 10ft tall and 24ft long. That’s about double the height and length of a standard car.
2) “Every section is so multifunctional!” – That’s the nature of tiny house living. I’ve tried to detail the layout in previous posts, and I’m really proud of our setup and ingenuity. One friend we saw who also lives in a tiny house was very complimentary, which felt extra special since he knows just how tough it can be to make a small space livable.
The next comment is typically either “I wish I could live in a van like you” or “I could never do what you’re doing.” I also tend to oscillate between those two beliefs about myself and this lifestyle. Some days I’m so amazed that I am jumping between three national parks in one week, and others where I would give anything for a shower. It was the latter mindset that led us to accept free showers from a homeless services center in Greenlake, Seattle. Waiting in the intake room unsure if I should pretend to be homeless even though I have everything in the world except an easily accessible shower was one of those vanlife-specific situations I never expected to get in to.
Some other recent showers have included an Oregon YMCA ($2 to use the locker room showers after 7pm), a community bathroom that was supposed to be $1/minute but the quarter intake machine was broken so it was only $0.25/minute(!), and a dingy convenient store outside of Death Valley National Park (also only $2). Many truck stops have showers, but we’ve managed up avoid those since they tend to cost $8-$12 a pop. Winter living is less sweaty, but shower options are often seasonally closed, so finding a spot after we’d already pushed it a day too long has led us on some interesting detours.
The most interesting detour to-date (not shower related) was returning to Port Angeles, WA for a jury duty summons. Luckily we were still in the Pacific Northwest and didn’t have to fully drive across the country to meet my civic duty. I did, however, ask my sister-in-law to forge my signature in the “yes I will attend jury duty” form. We were in Oregon, and instead of taking the most direct route, we drove up the Oregon and Washington coasts via Highway 101, which is considered one of the most beautiful road trips in the US. We didn’t have the time to take a tour of the Tillamook Creamery, but I finally saw the coastal part of the Olympic National Park. If you’re curious, I had to go into court one day as part of the jury pool, but I never made it into the jury box.
Yes, having to back track was mildly frustrating, but like I said, I am so chill and flexible now. Maybe to a default, because we’re forcing all of our relations to be flexible with us. If you were able to meet up with me with less than 24-hours notice, thank you! And if you’re someone who I said I would meet up with in January and then never reached out, I’m sorry! Can I blame the jury duty?
Special extra thanks to anyone who let us use their shower, laundry, and/or driveway, especially if you are someone who only knows us tangentially. Cameron and I tend to think of ourselves as courteous and unimposing rule followers, but we’ve had to get over that to some extent. We’ve slept in a friend’s parents’ yard (we had never previously met her parents), in the parking lots of a few overcrowded apartment complexes (but only when we knew someone in the complex), and in a hard-to-come-by spot in the center of the very urban Capital Hill, Seattle.
Similarly, we’ve been in many social situations than Cameron is normally uncomfortable with, but he’s been handling it like a champ. When I pointed that out to him, he theorized that living in a van has forced him into the unknown enough that now social uncertainties seem relatively minor. I think it might also be that he’s sick of just talking to me because I tend to zone out when he tells stories (sorry Cam!). Maybe it’s the van, or maybe it’s just normal aging, but Cameron has started taking center stage in social settings, and I’m happy taking a step back.
For me, that’s partially because I’m not sure how to relate to people anymore. My day-to-day typically starts with a rabbit licking my face, driving to a scenic parking spot, working for five hours, and then deciding where to head for the next night – probably not the most relatable life style. In the rare times I’ve met someone else who seems to be living in a van, I’m too self conscious to have a meaningful conversation with them.
Despite having an Ikon pass and a blog, I’m not enough of a ski bum/influencer to relate to the other young well-off vanlifers, and I want to keep it that way! But not only am I living an unusual life, but I don’t know what to ask people about their more mundane lifestyles. I will happily take suggestions on suitable questions to ask people, especially for folks who are homebodies and/or have kids. I know this is a personal flaw. In fact, I’m often quite envious of people who have seemingly unchanging schedules.
But that’s not us, so what’s next? We’ve seen everything on the list (except the East Coast towns, but I’m ok making our final decision without visiting those) and likely will likely try to spend some extended time in the final few. As I write this, we are heading to Taos for a family ski weekend and a round 2 assessment. We’ll ski our way back up to Utah (because we have upcoming dentist appointments) and then decide on next steps.
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