If I'm not getting told that my profession as a travel writer isn't a 'real job', then it seems I'm being told by strangers I meet that it's their 'dream job' (generally accompanied by breathlessness). It is a dream job for me in many ways, but perhaps not in the ways you think. Aside from the obvious benefits of being able to focus on traveling and writing, for me, the best thing about my job is that I get to work all day every day with my husband, my co-writer and a travel photographer. We get to travel the world together, and share both the best - and worst - aspects of the job. The best? From our most recent trip: enjoying some of the sublime scenery in Cyprus, such as this breathtakingly beautiful bay 'Petra tou Romiou', where it's said that Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty, rose out of the sea and was born. The worst? Searching the streets on a cold winter's night, tired and hungry after not having eaten all day, desperately trying to find a decent, interesting meal that we can write about in a destination that has too easily given over its traditional cuisine in favor of 'English breakfasts', 'fish and chips', and 'Irish pubs'. Tedious and frustrating. But for me, the things I like most about my job are not the things you might expect: being our own bosses, not having to answer to anyone but ourselves, having the freedom to pick and choose our work, to stop working for people we don't respect or enjoy working with, not having to get involved in organizational 'culture' and 'politics' (and that's one of the reasons we've stopped writing for Lonely Planet), and, most of all, not having to listen to office gossip. That's my idea of a dream job.