Who doesn't want to be called a travel blogger?

Choices:
A. Other bloggers who call themselves a travel blogger
B. not enough information
C. Those who read the author's blog
D. The author of the blog post
The author of the blog post
We all present these glossy lives to the world; coffee cups presented to dewy sunrises, champagne in airport lounges, luxurious restaurants that cost more than they should and share the blue skies days of exploration. I’m as guilty as anyone.
But, what about behind those scenes? Those days where the wind is so strong you can’t instastory for talking (I’m looking at you Cornwall), when travel mistakes happen (like in Vienna where I accidentally booked our trip a day short) or when everyone asks you what your next trip will be and you sheepishly have to answer ‘er, not sure’.
So I thought I’d get a few things off my chest, and confess a few of the reasons why I probably shouldn’t be calling myself a travel blogger. And yes, these are all very much first world problems.
1. I hate photographs of myself.
Ironic, no? Especially when one of the first rules of blogging is all about the cult of personality. I just don’t like them. I wish I did, but there are few times that I fancy a photo and even less when I like the result.
2. We nip into a MacDonalds at least once every trip.
It has now become a tradition between nicer restaurants to nip in and order a Big Mac and fries at some point of our trip – but especially in Europe for some reason. Why do their MacDonalds meals taste better?
3. Pastels aren’t really my shade.
Again, I wish I could be super girly, twirling in gossamer skirts painted in spring shades but I’m just not. My colour palette is decidedly autumnal/jewel hued and usually sticks to a scarf draped around my neck in a hopefully fashionable manner. And I’m totally ok with that.
4. I once travelled all the way to New Zealand and back (stopping in 3 countries enroute) without a lens cap on my brand new, fairly expensive camera.
This is in no way a #humblebrag about the trip, but a comment on how impractical I can be – and how careful I also am. I lovingly wrapped my camera in a soft scarf every day for 3 weeks, growled under my breath at anyone who looked like they might jostle me and at one point found myself accidentally at the top of a dormant volcano with it. As you do.