Nearly 10 years ago Marcus came up with a plan to travel from where we lived on the coast of North Carolina to Minnesota, a 1,337-mile journey. The girls were all of 2 years old and 10 months old, respectively, and there wasn’t enough Zanax in the world that would have convinced me it was going to be a good time. I think I’ve repressed the memory of the actual car ride itself because there isn’t much I do remember except losing my shit when the girls woke-up at 5:00 in the morning after a full night of driving and being panicked that we would get sucked-up in a tornado while driving through the plains of the Midwest. Needless to say, I vowed never to spend an extended period of time with the family in a car which is why, when Marcus suggested we rent an RV for our New Zealand trip, I didn’t exactly start researching right away, secretly hoping he would forget.

He did not forget, and we spent an entire week over the spring holiday, traversing the North Island of New Zealand in a camper van. I know some of you may be thinking it would be a dream come true to spend a week (or longer) in a converted passenger van with your family but the rest of us, who are sane, perish the thought. Ultimately, though, the girls had a blast, Marcus had a blast and, I also had a blast.

New Zealand was one of those Bucket List destinations that always seemed out of reach because A. It’s still a 13+ hour flight from Singapore and, B. The airfare was always just a little too high. When we started to think about it, though, and realizing that we would never be this close and would never want to make the trip any other time, we booked the tickets for the girls’ spring break. We ended up with round-trip tickets to and from Auckland which I mention because this limited how far we could go.

After landing in Auckland, we took a shuttle from the airport to pick-up the van. We pretty much were just handed the keys and told to stay to the left when driving and that was it; we were off! Despite the fact I was the one who booked the RV I was a bit shocked at just how small it was. I my defense I don’t often find myself perusing the market for RVs and considering their size. Anyway, it didn’t really matter because the girls were immediately enamored with the entire thing.

Before we left, Marcus had downloaded an app called Rankers Camping NZ. We didn’t have a set itinerary, but we knew of a few things we were interested in seeing and that we wanted to start by heading west so, using the app, we looked at camping sites and just started heading in that direction (I can hear all of my Type A friends having a mini stroke right about now). We also got the girls involved by having them help choose the camp site based on the rating and what they had to offer. This gave them a sense of having some control over their own vacation but also, I cannot so much as glance down at a phone without immediately feeling motion sick.

One of the more interesting things about traversing New Zealand with an RV is the ability to camp for free in designated spots which seem to basically be in public parks. We all know how much Marcus’s ears perked up at the mention of “free” and so, we came to a compromise that we would free-camp every other night. We free-camped twice over a period of seven days.

Some take aways from our trip:

“If the vans a-rocking don’t come a-knocking” has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with two children playing grab ass at night. Our neighboring RVs probably thought Marcus and I were pervs, going at it with our children right there because the van was constantly squeaking and moving.

Driving New Zealand roads isn’t much different from driving the windy backroads of the states with the exception of the driving itself being totally opposite so, you know, details. As it stands, Marcus white knuckles it when I drive in Singapore so, before we even left for our trip, I made the decision that he would be the only one to drive the RV. To be fair, since we’ve lived in Singapore, I’ve hit numerous parking garage pillars, side swiped walls and shrubs, and most recently blew out a tire on a curb so really, this was all for the best.

There are more mullets (the hair, not the fish) than people in New Zealand. Change my mind.

There are only so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hotdogs a grown woman can eat in one week and that number is one. Also, if you’re in a foreign country and the package says “American Style Hotdogs” proceed with caution.

Being in New Zealand felt very much like being back in the United States, especially when it came to customer service. Actually, it was nicer because everyone was pleasant and at least pretended to like being at their job and having to communicate with you.

It took me about three days to acclimate to the idea of being in such a confined space, especially at night when Marcus’s and my bed unfolded to the size of the van. Every night I found myself standing in the one square space that was empty, my mind blank yet reeling and wondering how, exactly, I had gotten myself into such a state and then remembering that time I agreed to marry Marcus.

Driving through New Zealand was by far the best experience. One of my favorite days included a two-hour horseback ride through a 1,500-acre farm, just the four of us, two ranch hands, a couple of dogs, and a handful of cows, sheep, and goats. After our ride, we stopped for dinner in the one town that was open on Good Friday (Fun fact: Easter is a BIG DEAL in New Zealand) and ate a delicious meal in a renovated train station in Te Kuiti which just so happened to be the “Shearing Capital of the World”, and which is almost as good as stopping by the World’s Largest Ball of Yarn.