The secret life of caravaners.

Three and a half weeks into this trip I would have to say that for me the strangest part of caravan living is the intimacy you share with your neighbours.

On our farm in Daylesford, if I were to go outside and scream as loudly as I could, no one would hear me. Yet here we are usually a couple of meters away from another van, sharing bathrooms, and washing machines and outdoor living spaces with perfect strangers.

In my real life my best friends have never seen me first thing in the morning before I have had a chance to look in the mirror, or last thing at night brushing my teeth and washing my face. Yet my caravan neighbours have had the pleasure of witnessing these things as well as my dash to the toilet in my jammy pants first thing in the morning, they have heard me discipline my kids, they have seen us cook and eat our meals and hang out our washing. If they cared these neighbours could see from our laundry what colour knickers I wear.

I am sure most caravaners don't care or notice. They go about the details of their own lives and leave others to do the same.

I notice though.

I see the woman in the kitchen area with her pin curlers in. I see that most people hang their washing in an orderly manner, socks in pairs, tops with tops, pants with pants. I see that most people don't care about being seen in their hot pink elephant jammies or dying their hair in the sink. I hear people planning their trips and menus and dividing up the chores. I see the old man waiting patiently for his wife ouside the ladies toilets very late at night.

I love these details of other people's caravan lives.

My family voted me craziest in the family for taking these pics, but truthfully this aspect is as important to me as the tourist sights. This is caravan living.

Over time I might care less and notice less. It might feel normal when the guy next door interrupts my bowl of cereal to ask if we think the petrol will be cheaper in Mataranka or Katherine. It might not feel like an invasion when I return to the communal laundry to find mine out of the washer and dumped on the nearest table. It might feel regular to hear other people's kids crying well into the night.

In the meantime I guess the saving grace is that within a few days we will all be moving on and be strangers all over again.

This is such fun!

Happy travels.

xx