Okay, so I haven't done this while living on the road yet, but I do it frequently when traveling and you can earn some cash from it, and if you're interested in the artistic sense you can get the satisfaction of earning a really nice portfolio. I wrote this sort of as a guide to modeling while traveling for pay via my own experience with it. Please keep in mind at this time I looked and passed as a girl without any sort of gender questioning, and most traveling models are women.
What's up my dudes, so me and Carol here from StP have been unknowingly co-occupying Melbourne. We met up at Lentils the other day and it didn't take us more than a brief introduction to decide to hitchhike the Great Ocean Road together. By the time we had finished our veggie burgers, the underground tunnels were on the table as well. Hitting the road was the most natural thing in the world, despite the ceaseless references to Wolf Creek and astute observations of our gender provided by the Australian people.
So I thought I would write (and include some pictures) about my experience working for a fish processing plant in southeast Alaska this summer, seeing as how there seems to be a fair amount of people interested in maybe doing this kind of work. Hopefully this semi-indepth review will give a better idea as to what to expect before you commit to working a season up there. Sorry if this is too long and drawn out, but whatever... you can skim thru if you like.
Some of you who know me know I am big on 'Quality Jungles'. The truth is, today they are virtually non-existent.This is due to several things. I'll get to that in a moment. Why jungles? Because Hoboes and tramps need a place to stop, rest up, clean up, feed up, wash and repair clothes and gear, and hopefully a place to socialize, trade, and share what one knows about the lines and general conditions. Sounds great right? Jungles have been in existence since right after the civil war. They used to be called 'hangouts' up until the latter part of the 19'th century. They were also relatively safe. There was an order of things, and the number of riders required order and safety.
A trip to Kyrgyzstan, over on the border of China. The Tian Shan Mountains are beautiful but a bit of a mission. The capital city has a mad market with all sorts of instruments, car parts, food, spices for sale. The people are friendly, and the vodka is cheap.
So this weekend I joined a group to go beach camping and exploring up north a bit from Melbourne. Croajingolong Nat'l Park is just about halfway between Melbourne and Sydney (about 6 hours drive from each) aka literally in the middle of nowhere. We set up on the beach, started a fire and broke out our bottles of wine and whiskey and cans of soup and god damn did the stars ever come out. It felt like looking at what the Hubble telescope sees. It doesn't even compare to anything I've seen in the US even in the most remote places. This was a whole other level.
I'm in Mongolia right now traveling with a horseback caravan of people who just met on the internet. Here's the continuing story of my lil' Mongolian pony. When I first saw this guy, he was tied up to the halter of a big, strong, healthy-looking chestnut horse with a full mane (all our horses so far had theirs shaved for the summer, kind of a visual bummer). I wanted the flashy horse, but we still had bigger taller people without riding horses so I gave over regretfully. I took a quick look at the other horse -- a drab, shaggy dust-brown gelding. He was all ribs and hips and spine, with huge pits over his eyes, but while the other horse was stuffing his face to the exclusion of all else, this one was looking at me.
“I humbly invite you to take a stroll through my life in the squatter community of the Lower East Side (LES) in the 1990s,” writes Ash Thayer, whose book, Kill City, focuses on New York City squatters, harking back to another age, when city’s were not being made overly safe, libraries were valued and open – those arcane places where you could sit indoors for free without paying money and read – when the welfare state was not run on grandiose corporate business lines, when being young, hedonistic and utterly lacking in ambition were joyous and the city-centre living was open to all. It’s a halcyon vision of full-figured youth and fun, albeit one obscured by voracious rats and the occasional nutter, and for freezing cold months at a time shrouded in clouds of visible breath.
I headed down to NYC for a few days to check out Punk Island and then a show in Brooklyn where one of my current favorite bands were playing (Sports - pop punk/emo from Pennsylvania). Punk Island is a 1 day all ages and totally free DIY festival on one of the islands of NYC every June. This was my 2nd year going. Last year it was on Staten Island, this year Governors Island. ~65 bands played this year.
I didn't know why I'd had a case of the itchy-head for the last couple of days; since it coincided with my discovery that I'd pitched my tent on some mysterious sandbags (becuz who expects the ground in a forest park to be made out of sandbags?), I thought the two things might've been connected somehow. The morning I woke up and found myself scratching my scalp almost insanely with both hands, I decided that I absotively, posilutely had to come back after lunch and move camp.
Nearly a year and a half prior to this post I had what some would call the "American dream". I was a certified conductor and engineer for a local railroad in California. If I wasn't throwing switches all day I was running a variety of locomotives from classic center-cab switchers and GP7's/GP9's to 2 million dollar Gensets, but lets be real; I got paid to bench and keep up on monikers. I drove a 2007 Toyota Tacoma and a 1975 Porsche 914. I lived in a 3 bedroom 2 bathroom house on a 1/2 acre lot in Carmichael, a suburb of Sacramento. In my spare time I was a DJ. I had a cool $8-$10,000 in professional audio equipment accompanied by 300+ vinyl records. I was single. I had a credit score of 760+. As another hobby I'd review and pair various cigars to different whiskeys (still have a soft spot for a good maduro and a oaky scotch) much like a wine to a meal.
So, I'm in the Wellington airport flying out of New Zealand to Ulaanbataar in about 12 hours, where I'll meet up with a couple of friends and a bunch of people I've only met on the internet. Then I'm going to buy a very big animal whose wellbeing I'll be responsible for, and hopefully will be okay with carrying me around. Feels pretty surreal.
I flew into Athens, Greece 10 days ago and wanted to start a thread documenting some observations/maybe advice for people that might be aspiring to travel to this area. I wish I had something like this before I went, so here it goes, in list form cuz why not?
While some people start their life on the road going solo, many people prefer to have an experienced traveler to show them the ropes. Squat the Planet is one resource new travelers can use to find road dogs but you have to be careful about it. You’ll meet good folks and bad folks on the road and you have to figure out which is which and what to do about it.
As mentioned before in another forum, I've been HSV positive since the age of 19. Yes, I was informed that my partner was infected, and no I am not ashamed or embarrassed to being HSV positive. Having accepted my condition early on and being open about it, I came to the realization on just how common the virus is. I've met many people along the years who are infected themselves or know somebody who is. Point being is, if you catch yourself getting infected with the Herpes Simplex Virus, don't panic. The faster that you come to terms with it and educate yourself about the virus, the more your mind and body will thank you. Now, how do you keep the virus at bay and go about your day you ask? Well read along!
I used to get the bounty on recyclables in the states I could, sometimes I could get the occasional paying gig or even sign flying, which I was hugely unsuccessful at. If you don't mind sharing the name of your hustle, it would be awesome if you did here.
All felt calm and quiet as we pulled into the empty parking lot behind the racetrack. We gathered supplies, and slowly made our way to the shore, if it could be called that. Clouds blanketed the entire sky, but the light pollution from this megatropolis made up for the lack of reflected starlight.
An intrepid photographer hitches a ride through the Sahara Desert on one of the world's longest trains - with her surfboard in tow. The stunning photos were taken in Mauritania during a two month expedition at the tail-end of 2015 by professional photographer Jody MacDonald. The 39-year-old rode across the Sahara - which takes up an astonishing 90 per cent of the country - in open-top carriages full of iron ore alongside other train hoppers.
Many people, especially those new to traveling, and those currently only considering about traveling, have a slew of questions for travelers with animals. Some travelers will tell you something about their financial flow improving since their dog became a part of their family. Others will tell you that they cannot live without their partner, for the companionship on the long and tough road works miracles for their mental health (anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts). These things are a very real thing for many of us on the road.
With this photo documentary, I intend to show how alternative places and squats are necessary in a society that isn't welcoming towards non-wealthy visitors. The story focuses on two people that decided to travel through Norway. With this I hope to serve a small contribution to the memory of Brakkebygrenda, a place that not only saved my friend and I from a harsh winter, but also kept us around so that we could experience Norway in a way that wouldn't have been possible without such a community.