“You’re a gypsy?? So, what’s your average day?”
Someone just asked me for the second time in as many days.
I thought long and hard.
“Well,” I replied, “it starts with waking up.”

And because you never really know where you’re waking up, your mind takes you down a little path of discovery to solve the morning’s mysteries.

Before you brave subjecting your eyes to the light, you listen for clues:
Traffic? Wind? Animals? Voices? Chanting?
And then you take a deep breath of fresh/stale/petroly/mountain/prison air and force your eyes open.
Am I in a campervan? A car? A field? A bush? A house? A hostel?
Am I on a boat?
Do I need to hold on for dear life as I step out of bed?
Am I in a tent?
Where is my tent? Are there people around me?
Am I in a village?
Do I need to be culturally sensitive and don a sarong as I step outside?
Or is it a nudist colony?
Will wearing clothes be offensive to those around me?

I lie there some more and mentally prepare myself for the day ahead.

After a quick God-greeting, I normally find the need to visit the loo.
This too holds exciting elements of adventure.
The urgency to establish where the toilet is, is directly correlated to how much you drank the previous night.
And is even more closely linked to the dodginess of the substances you ate.
Before actually stepping out of bed, it is imperative to establish that you have mentally prepared yourself for the journey to the loo.
Make sure you’re dressed appropriately for the environmental surrounds.
In a hostel or a commune, it may be a long wait.
Or a long hike to the closest tree.
Are you ready to jump in the ocean and aqua-turd if you’re on a boat without a toilet?
(It is extremely important to take into consideration whether the boat is anchored or under-way before you do so.)
If you are to use a long-drop or porterloo, make sure you breath in enough fresh air before the journey, and under no circumstances are you to blow your nose before you complete the task.

With the morning business out of the way, it’s either a jog or breakfast.
It’s hard to walk on water!

And then?
Well, that depends on my gypsy quest.
It may be packing up all my life belongings and hitching or cycling to the next town or city or sunset. It may be a day of navigating and steering.
Or it may be simply immersing myself in the world I’m currently lost in:
Some days you simply sit and talk to people.
Others you busy yourself building villages or schools or farms.
You prepare boats for voyages.
You hike and explore and taste local delicacies or search for food in fields.
No matter the day you try to create something.
Try to improve something.
Try and learn something.
No matter the place, the weather, or the company; the quest is always the same:
Have the best day possible.
Be the best you.

Wether you’re stuck at a border (Turkmenistan)

Or you’re in a Stan country you’ve never heard of

Or crashing a family picnic in Kazakhstan

Or hiking a beach with long time friends and family

Or chilling in deepest darkest Africa

You may never know where you’ll be sleeping.
You may have no idea what you’re eating.
You may go months without a shower.
You may be miles and oceans and continents away from family and friends.
But when you completely immerse yourself in nomadic gypsy life,
you find you’re always where you need to be.
And surprisingly, despite the lack of comforts,
you always have more than enough.

And it’s quite easy to fall in love with life
It’s not all that difficult being a gypsy really
You simply step out of your comfort zone and let life be your compass
Try it! You might even enjoy it!


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