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What do you do when everyone around you is embracing parenthood or careers and you’re not sure either path is right for you? Lisa Jansen decided to find out. She bought a campervan, quit her job and spent five years travelling around NZ – including lockdowns. In her book Life Done Differently, she describes the moment she decided to leave her old lifestyle behind.
My first summer in the van was all about excitement and “need to pinch myself to believe it” kind of happiness.
But during autumn, a different type of happiness started to settle in. It was calmer and much more about what was going on inside of me than about the beautiful places I was visiting or adventures I was going on, though there was still plenty of that, too. It was a content kind of happiness.
Lisa Jansen working in her van at Te Araroa on the East Cape in February 2018.
Over the years, vanlife has taught me many valuable lessons. At times, it felt like the longer I lived this way, the more it was teaching me.
However, the most valuable lesson of them all is still one that I learned that very first autumn, and that is: How little I need to be happy.
I had gone from living in a waterfront house with stunning views and a spa pool in Auckland to living in an 8sq m tin can. I had walked away from a career that promised a very comfortable life and the ability to afford many luxuries.
Lisa Jansen with her van at Tapotupotu Beach in the Far North.
I went from having a whole wardrobe full of clothes, and shoes piling up in boxes next to it, to having four to five outfits and three pairs of shoes. I had sold, donated or stored 80 per cent of my belongings.
Despite all that, I was happier than ever, and I didn’t miss anything. That, in itself, was an incredibly valuable realisation.
However, the reason I consider it the most valuable thing vanlife has taught me is because of the implications. When I realised I didn’t need a big house, fancy car, designer clothes or 20 pairs of shoes to be happy, I also realised I wouldn’t have to work 40-plus hours a week for the next 30-plus years of my life – and that was freedom.
Lisa Jansen at Roy's Peak overlooking Lake Wānaka in April 2021.
I still vividly remember something that happened when my siblings and I were teenagers. My brother is two years older than I am, and my sister is three years younger.
I think it would have been around the time my brother started university and was thinking about long-term career prospects. I would have still been at school but doing the odd job and holiday jobs, and my sister would have just started one of her first student jobs.
We were in the lounge, and I can’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but it had to do with jobs, careers and work. At some point, my sister said something along the lines of, “Yeah, but who really works 40 hours every week,” and said it in a way that implied she thought it sounded like a ridiculous idea to work that much.
At the time, the rest of us thought it was hilarious. I remember my brother and I having laughing fits, and we teased her about that statement for years afterwards. In the right context, someone in the family would probably still bring it up today. It turned into one of those iconic stories that every family have.
Why was it so funny? Because we thought EVERYONE works 40 hours a week. That was just a fact of life. My sister questioning that was like someone asking, “yeah, but who really needs oxygen to live”. It seemed like such a naive and maybe even stupid thing to say.
To be clear, my sister is anything but stupid! She was referring to part-time and summer jobs while still at school, and in that context, that statement certainly made sense. The rest of us took it out of context and turned it into the joke we all remember today.
Medlands Beach in the Abel Tasman National Park in January 2019.
In the past few years, I’ve often thought about that memory — but my view of it has changed completely. It’s no longer an example of a funny story but instead an example of how brainwashed we are to see only one sensible path in life.
Looking back now, I wish I had taken my sister seriously. Back then, the idea that someone wouldn’t work 40 hours a week seemed stupid. Today, the fact that everyone is so stuck on the idea that we have to work 40 hours every week (and often more) seems stupid to me.
It often seems to me that many people work 40 hours a week because they think they don’t have a choice. While that might be true for some, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least question and challenge that concept.
Yes, some of us do not have a choice. Unfortunately, some jobs pay such low wages that people have to work full-time (sometimes more) to support their families. I’m highly aware of that and have always felt very grateful I have a well-paying job.
Lisa Jansen paddle-boarding on Lake Pukaki with Aoraki Mt Cook in the distance.
But I’m far from the only one who is that lucky. During these first few months in the van (and ever since), people have often said things like, “You’re so lucky. I wish I could do what you’re doing.” While I agree that I’m lucky, I also think most people who said this to me could do what I did if they wanted to.
Many employers are increasingly open to flexible work arrangements, including part-time hours, job sharing or hiring contractors. In addition, for many jobs, the hourly rate is enough to be able to get by without working full-time hours if we are willing to make some sacrifices in our lifestyle (and that’s a big if).
Some people aren’t willing to make those sacrifices. For them, having a big house, modern car and exciting holidays are worth putting in the hours at work. There is nothing wrong with that.
However, I sometimes wonder if many people work long hours because they have never really considered another option. I used to.
Lisa Jansen kite-surfing on Rangiputa Harbour in the Far North in 2017.
Before I started vanlife, it had never once occurred to me that I could work only part-time. The only people I knew who did so were those with other commitments, like caring for family members or starting a business on the side — in which case they were working long hours, just not all for the same company.
I never once considered that I could work fewer hours and simply use the rest of the time to enjoy life.
But here I was, living my best life, needing little money to do so. I did some numbers and found that I could live very comfortably and put money aside if I worked 20 hours a week. Even 15 hours would be enough to get by relatively comfortably.
I wouldn’t be able to afford amazing holidays every year or designer clothes, and it would require me to continue to live rent-free most of the time, but in exchange, I would get something I had realised meant more to me than anything money could buy: Time.
It was around this time that I seriously started to think about vanlife as a long-term way of life. I loved living and travelling in my van, but more than that, I loved the opportunities and time it was giving me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go back to living in a house. The important part was that I didn’t want to go back to being busy and stressed all the time. I had tasted freedom — and I wanted more.
Lisa Jansen with her van in Auckland in December 2017.
This was the moment I had known would come. This was where I would truly walk in a different direction than all the people I cared about. It was no longer a matter of taking a time-out for one summer.
At this point, my job was still there for me to return to, and most people thought I was just on a long holiday. That was all about to change. After dipping my toes into Life Done Differently for a summer, I was ready to be all in.
Looking back now, I feel like it should have been a big decision. I feel like there should have been a moment where I sat down, thought through my options and made a plan for the future. But that moment never happened.
Continuing to live in my van past that first summer wasn’t so much a decision as it was an evolution. It just felt like the natural thing to do. It also didn’t feel like a big deal at the time. I would just keep living in my van until I didn’t like it any more, at which point I would stop.
Lisa Jansen with her book Life Done Differently.
Yes, I had to tell the business I had been working for that I wouldn’t be returning to a fulltime role. But I think they already knew that. Since I was still working for them, we had been in touch frequently over the summer and autumn, and they knew how much I loved my new lifestyle.
The same applied to all my friends. No one was surprised when I just kept living in my van past that first summer and autumn.
It felt exciting and liberating. I knew in my heart I was doing the right thing, but I would be lying if I wouldn’t also admit that there was a bit of fear and doubt. For starters, I was wondering how I would cope with winter in the van.
