While wandering around Europe with everything I own stuffed into my backpack, I have been immersing myself in social and environmental movements across Europe. From the climate and anti-racist camps to forest occupations, each experience has taught me something new about organising. In Czechia and Austria, I found inspiration in the vibrant community of artists, using art as a powerful tool to communicate important issues. Rebels in Switzerland, Croatia, and Serbia beckoned with camps, in the pursuit of a greener, freer world. In Greece, I witnessed true community strength with a motley crew of anarchists, communists, internationalists, refugees, migrants, and a few lost Westerners, joining the fight for a brighter future. In Italy, amidst the canopy of a community-led tree occupation, I found myself embraced by the strength of the trans-feminist movement. Each encounter has fueled my passion and reinforced my belief in the power of collective action to drive meaningful change.

These groups may march under different banners, whether it’s climate change, racial justice and no borders, queer justice or another cause close to their hearts. But beneath the surface, they share a profound understanding: that our collective future depends on our collective stuggle to create a world where every soul, regardless of where they’re from, can thrive.

I travel lightly as possible, both in possessions and on the Earth. My trusty tramping pack, affectionately dubbed “monster,” carries all I need for the road—a skateboard, a tiny tent for shelter, and the bare essentials for survival. Yet, despite my best efforts, it still weighs a hefty 20kg, prompting me to question my life choices with each repack.

Sadly my backpack gets to ride my skateboard more than I do. I’ve mastered the art of towing my monster behind me, drawing curious glances and the occasional thumbs-up from passersby as I navigate the cobbled streets.

And speaking of traveling light, I strive to minimize my footprint on this precious planet of ours. Hopping from Aotearoa to Europe is no small feat, so I make every mile count by immersing myself in the journey, giving back to the communities I encounter, and soaking up knowledge like a sponge— which I hope to share with you in this blog.

The beauty of Europe is the ease with which you can move with public transport, buses, trains and subways. This is not always cheap, so the brave among us will aim for a free ride with a well timed toilet brake. I have only been caught once getting on public transport without a ticket and the amount of trips I have taken far out wayed the fine. Other options for intercity travel are hitchhiking and Blablacar. This is in some ways easier for women because we are less threatening. The men always want to rescue the damsel in distress and the women always want to rescue me from the men.

When it comes to accommodations, I aim for cheap and cheerful or at least dry. From crashing at friends’ houses to couch surfing, from pitching my tent in the wilderness to squatting the squats. The key? Making friends fast and shamelessly asking everyone I meet for leads on a place to rest. This tactic has led to some unforgettable experiences and beautiful chance encounters, but it’s also landed me in the odd predicament—like trying to catch some shut-eye in a train station during a rainstorm.

Ah, food—the eternal quest to fill the belly without emptying the wallet. While I dream of dumpster diving and salvaging perfectly good meals from the refuse of society, reality often nudges me towards more conventional options. Still, the hunt for free food is not without its challenges, especially when you’re new in town and lacking means to wash salvaged goods. But hey, a full stomach equals a sense of security, and good food is the fuel that keeps me feeling positive and happy.

And as for cleanliness? Well, let’s just say I’ve embraced my inner crust punk with gusto. Who needs daily showers and pristine clothes when you’ve got the freedom to go weeks without a scrub? Sure, I’ll indulge in the occasional pit, tit, and bits wash in a bathroom sink, but deodorant and toothbrushes? Optional extras in my book. After all, it’s the grit and grime of the road that gives life its flavor—or so I tell myself as I trudge onward, backpack in tow, ready for whatever adventure lies around the next bend.

* Photos taken from street art in Athens