Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone in the western hemisphere…The eastern hemisphere celebrated yesterday…

Happy Valentine’s Day to our worldwide family and friends! May love fill your hearts wherever you may be.

It makes no sense for us to make a fuss over holidays anymore. Before we left the US 13 years ago, we let go of the heart-shaped cake pans and all the decorations we used for various holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve,  Valentine’s Day, July 4, with hundreds of small flags to line the shoreline at our lakefront house, along with special decorations for birthdays. Those days are long behind us, 13 years later.

Now, our roots move with us.

Birthdays and anniversaries are simpler. We make a reservation. We dress nicely. We sit across from each other at a small table in a local restaurant and raise a glass. Next Friday will be my birthday, and we’ve done exactly that, booked a table for two. No grand gestures. No elaborate surprises. Just us. And honestly, that has become more than enough.

Valentine’s Day has quietly slipped into the background. No cards. No flowers. No gifts. No cake, carefully frosted and decorated to celebrate the occasion. At first, I wondered if I’d miss it. After all, tradition has a way of wrapping itself around your heart. But here’s the curious thing: when every day is filled with shared discovery, shared problem-solving, shared wonder, what exactly are you commemorating on February 14?

We celebrate constantly.

We celebrate when we arrive safely after a long travel day. We celebrate when we discover a perfect little café tucked down a side street. We celebrate when we sit on a veranda watching the sky change colors, grateful that this nomadic life still fits us. We celebrate resilience when plans shift unexpectedly, and kindness carries us through.

Right now, we’re settled for a few precious weeks, and that alone feels like a gift. The holiday home we’re in is newly built, still carrying that new house scent. We are the first tourists to live here, and there’s something quietly special about that. It feels untouched, like a blank page waiting for stories.

Each morning, we wake to the gentle sounds of barnyard life. The animals seem to move at their own unhurried pace, as if they have nowhere urgent to be. There’s comfort in that. A reminder. We sit with our coffee and watch them, sometimes saying nothing at all. Silence between two people who have traveled the world together is not emptiness…it’s ease.

Our meals lately have been homemade, simple, and satisfying. There’s something grounding about cooking in a kitchen that’s not yours yet feels temporarily entrusted to you. I move around the counters, finding my pace with unfamiliar utensils, adjusting to a different oven, and different light through the windows. Tom does the dishes, often without being asked. I cook. These small gestures, repeated over decades, have become our truest form of romance.

We don’t need roses when we have reliability.
We don’t need cards when we have consistency.

Two weeks from today, we’ll move to Sunrise at Penguin. Just writing that makes me smile. The name alone feels hopeful. After the earlier mix-up with dates and the unexpected scramble upon arrival in town, it feels especially meaningful that we’ll soon settle into that home properly. Experiences like that could easily rattle us. But instead, they remind us how adaptable we’ve become.

In the meantime, we’re soaking in these days. The light filters through the wide windows. The quiet hum of rural life. The sense that, for now, we don’t have to pack or rush to an airport. We’ll do that again in April.

Tomorrow afternoon, we plan to wander into Penguin, this quaint and beautiful little town that already feels welcoming. There’s something charming about coastal communities, the steady presence of the sea, the tidy shopfronts, the subtle nods exchanged between locals who recognize each other. We’ll take photos, of course. We always do. It’s our way of preserving moments that otherwise might blur together in this ever-moving life.

I suspect we’ll linger by the water. Perhaps sit on a bench and simply watch. These small towns have a way of inviting you to slow down.

And that, I suppose, is the quiet lesson in all of this.

We no longer measure love by decorations or holidays circled on a calendar. We measure it in shared glances across a restaurant table. In navigating unexpected hiccups without blame. In packing up a life over and over again and choosing, each time, to continue together.

Valentine’s Day may have fallen by the wayside. But love hasn’t.

If anything, it has deepened, simplified, and clarified.

Every single day, in this ever-changing world we inhabit, feels like a celebration already. And neither of us needs anything more than that.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 15, 2016:

We hadn’t seen a pinecone in a long time. Photo taken in New Zealand. For more, please click here.

Out to dinner in Penguin…Delightful evening with our upcoming landlords…

Tom enjoyed being out to dinner, especially with the excellent Thursday senior special that included dessert.

There’s something special about the way travel humbles us. On Thursday evening, after what had been one of the more surprising days in our many years of wandering this planet, we found ourselves sitting across the table from Fran and Terry, the very landlords of our upcoming March 1 rental in Penguin.

If you didn’t read yesterday’s post, here it is. It tells the story of our unexpected arrival in town… without a place to stay. A simple mix-up in dates, confirmed long ago, somehow unraveled in real time. And just like that, we were in Penguin with our luggage and no holiday home waiting for us, at least not until March 1. The already homeless couple became homeless even further.

But here’s the beautiful part.

Instead of awkwardness or frustration, there was kindness.

It was hard to believe it had been ten years since we rented from Fran and Terry, a lovely couple.

Instead of blame, there was grace.

Fran and Terry opened their home to us that first night, and within hours, they had helped us secure a lovely interim property, where we’ll happily stay for the next two weeks, until Sunrise at Penguin becomes available on March 1. We are more than fine. In fact, we’re grateful. These little bumps in the road often turn into the stories we cherish most.

Feeling bad about the mix-up, Fran and Terry insisted on taking us out to dinner on Thursday evening. And not just anywhere.

Here’s my Valentine’s Day date, in 2016, smiling as always. For more photos, please click here.

Do you have favorite winter destinations?…Our perceptions are different…Three days and counting…

This is Tom’s perception of snowy Minnesota winters. See mine below. Not our photo.

After living in Minnesota, often referred to as the “tundra,” with its fleeting summers and painfully long, snowy, and icy winters, we made a quiet promise to ourselves when we began traveling the world. If possible, we would follow the sun. We had scraped enough windshields, navigated enough black ice, and endured enough subzero mornings to last a lifetime.

There have been a few notable exceptions. Our cruises to Alaska, Norway, and Antarctica stand out as breathtaking reminders that cold does not always equate to misery. In Alaska, we watched massive glaciers calve into the sea, their thunderous cracks echoing across icy waters. In Norway, we spotted glaciers and snowy caves. In Antarctica, we stood bundled in layers, speechless at the sight of penguins waddling across an endless white landscape that felt otherworldly and pure. Those experiences were not about enduring winter. They were about witnessing nature in its most dramatic and humbling form.

But recreational cold is very different from living in the cold.

Tom, especially, has earned his aversion to snow and bitter temperatures. After more than forty-two years working on the railroad, often in temperatures dipping to twenty below zero, he paid his dues. I can still picture him heading out the door before dawn, layered in heavy gear, bracing himself for another long shift in brutal conditions. For him, winter was not picturesque. It was relentless.

I have always felt a bit different. There is something magical about freshly fallen snow clinging to bare branches, transforming ordinary trees into sparkling sculptures. I loved those quiet winter mornings when the world seemed hushed and softened. There is a special comfort in being safely tucked indoors while snow falls steadily outside, a mug of coffee warming your hands, the furnace humming faithfully in the background. Winter, to me, held a certain coziness.

Still, when given the choice, sunshine wins.

As full-time travelers, we gravitate toward warm breezes, outdoor markets, ocean views, and the ease of stepping outside without multiple layers. We prefer flip flops to snow boots, light cotton dresses to thermal underwear. We have learned that chasing comfortable weather adds a gentle layer of joy to our nomadic lifestyle. It removes a barrier. It makes everyday living simpler.

And yet, we know we are in the minority for some travelers.

Many people, especially those who reside in tropical or consistently warm climates, dream of snow. They long for ski trips in the Alps, dog sledding adventures in Scandinavia, or cozy chalets tucked into the Canadian Rockies. For them, snow is exotic. It is exciting. It is an adventure waiting to unfold. There is undeniable beauty in watching skiers carve fresh tracks down a mountainside or families laughing together as they build snowmen.

What prompted this reflection was an article I stumbled upon in Travel + Leisure this morning. Five travel experts shared their favorite snowy destinations around the world, each describing places where winter becomes a playground rather than a hardship. Reading their perspectives reminded me how deeply personal our travel preferences are, shaped by where we have been and what we have experienced.

This is my perception of snowy Minnesota winters.

For us, the sun is more appealing than the snow. But I understand the allure. Perhaps that is the beauty of travel. There is no single perfect climate or ideal destination. There is only what feels right for you, in this season of your life.

And for now, we are happily following the warmth.

Here’s the article from Travel+ Leisure online magazine:

“We Asked 5 Travel Experts Their Favorite Winter Wonderland Destinations—and They All Said the Same Thing

From reindeer sleigh rides to the Northern Lights, this destination delivers the perfect winter escape. By Stacey Leasca

A story from ten years ago today…Four days and counting…

A simple life in the country…

Sunset at the alpaca farm in New Plymouth, New Zealand.

Note: It’s ironic that we’re back in New Zealand ten years later. We thought it would be fun to share this story we posted on this date in 2016. See the ten-year-old post below:

“The house has a metal roof, and it’s a veritable hot box on hot days. We have no choice but to leave the sliding doors open. The flies and sand flies are bad. I wear repellent round the clock, re-applying it three times a day.

This alpaca, Amber Rose, who recently gave birth, often looks at me through the kitchen window while I’m preparing meals, at times pressing her nose to the glass.

Last night, a dragonfly was flying around the bedroom, making noise as it bumped into the walls, keeping me awake most of the night. With no screens on any of the doors or windows, we can’t open any of the bedroom windows at night to cool off the hot room.

The fan moves the hot air around but doesn’t seem to cool it down. We’ve only used the comforter on a few occasions.

The WiFi is metered, and we can’t download as many of our favorite shows as we’ve often been able to in other locations. We’re in a tough position, knowing we won’t have good enough WiFi in Bali to download shows. We’d hoped to download everything we’d need while we’re here to watch later in Bali. That may not happen.

Each sunny afternoon, the alpacas crowd to the side of the house to find shelter in the shade. See more below.

I love it here. Tom loves it here. Adaptation. It’s a simple life in the country.

There’s a lot to love; the alpacas; the many comforts in the house; the ever-changing exquisite scenery surrounding us; the sound of the flowing nearby river; the kind and helpful owners, Trish and Neil; the New Zealand people; the ideal shopping fulfilling all of our needs from the health food store to the grass-fed only meat market to the weekly farmers market with the best eggs in the South Pacific.

The number of alpacas in the shade from our house grows with the heat of the sun.

Yes, there is a lot to love. Yesterday, I filled a bowl with a special grass mix for the alpacas and hand-fed it to them as my feet dangled over the edge of the veranda.  I couldn’t take photos while my hands were otherwise busy. It didn’t seem to matter at the time. Sorry about that. Sometimes the experience supersedes all else.

Hanging the laundry on the clothesline is a pleasant experience in itself, as is each time I step outdoors in my bare feet to check to see if it’s dry. The feel of the soft, neatly trimmed grass under my feet sends my senses reeling, reminding me of the yet unproven philosophy of “earthing” or “grounding,” which may have some truth. See here for details.

The grouping of cria started with these four.  They love sitting in this dirt, rolling around, and getting dirty. See below after it grew in numbers.

The rental car sits in the driveway, used only three times a week for various local trips. We don’t want to leave more often. Everything we could possibly want is right here within a few hours’ drive.

In minutes, the group of cria grew to eight.

Yesterday, I walked alone when Tom didn’t feel like joining me. As I approached the cattle, my favorite pregnant female immediately spotted me heading to the fence. She literally danced, so happy to see me, lifting one leg at a time as she rocked in place, shaking her head back and forth, slobber flying from her mouth.

My favorite cow was separated from what may have been her last offspring.  We often find them close to one another, sneaking affection through the fence.

She moaned in frustration as I walked away. Had anyone seen this, they would have laughed at this crazy woman communicating with a cow. I’ve often wondered if I should have lived on a farm when I’ve always been drawn to barnyard animals, rolling dough, and baking bread (in my old life, when I could eat gluten).

Instead, for now, we live this simple life, spending a lot of time outdoors, cooking good meals, mingling with life in the country, and taking photos of precious moments, with the ongoing joy of sharing them daily with all of YOU, as we’ve shown today.

This mom and son, Mont Blanc, were separated by the fence when Mont Blanc crawled under it and escaped. Later, Trish and Neil picked him up and placed him over the fence, not an easy task. We often see them in close contact, perhaps because they remember being once separated. Although Mont Blanc, the only blue-eyed cria in the group of 12, loves playing with the other youngsters.

For those in the US, may you have a fun-filled Super Bowl Sunday, upcoming tomorrow. (We’ll be watching it here on Monday). And to our friends in New Zealand, enjoy the rest of Waitangi Weekend. For details of this holiday, please click here.

Have a happy day in the country, city, desert, mountains or plains or, wherever you may be…”

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 7, 2016:

Last year’s young bulls, in New Plymouth, New Zealand. For more, please click here.

Historic properties worldwide…Out to dinner with our lovely property owners/new friends….

A historic house we visited in New Plymouth, New Zealand. See the 2016 post here.

Visiting historic properties has become one of the quiet anchors of our travels, the steady thread that stitches together countries, climates, and cultures as we move through the world. No matter where we find ourselves, there is something grounding about stepping into a place that has already lived many lives before we arrive. These buildings, estates, ruins, and preserved homes remind us that while our journey feels expansive and modern, it is layered on top of countless human stories that came long before us.

As travelers, we have learned that historic properties are rarely just about architecture. They are about people, routines, conflicts, triumphs, and ordinary days that somehow survived long enough to leave an imprint. Walking through an old manor, a centuries-old farmhouse, or a once grand city residence, we find ourselves slowing down almost instinctively. The pace changes.

The entrance to the sunroom.

One of the most fascinating aspects of visiting historic properties is how universal yet deeply local they are. A stone cottage or a house such as this, which we visited in New Plymouth, New Zealand in 2016, are storytellers. They speak of who had power, who labored behind the scenes, how families gathered, and how survival shaped daily life. We often leave these places with a deeper understanding of the country we are visiting, not from dates and timelines, but from kitchens, bedrooms, gardens, and worn staircases.

Traveling long term has given us the luxury of comparison, something short visits rarely allow. We notice how climate influenced design, such as thick stone walls, as we experienced in Boveglio, Italy, in the Tuscany region. We notice how resources dictated beauty, ornate woodwork where timber was abundant, and simple lines where materials were scarce. Even the smallest details, a hand-carved doorframe or uneven floorboards, hint at the skills and limitations of another era. These are things you cannot fully grasp from books or photos. They need to be experienced in person, quietly, and without rushing.

There is also an emotional element that sneaks up on us when visiting historic properties. Some places feel warm and lived in, almost welcoming, while others carry a heaviness that lingers long after we leave, such as the ruins we visited in Ireland in 2017. Former prisons such as The Tench, which we visited in Hobart, Tasmania, battle sites, such as Normandy, France, in 2014, or homes tied to painful histories often stay with us the longest. They remind us that travel is not always about beauty and escape. Sometimes it is about witnessing, acknowledging, and learning to sit with discomfort as part of understanding the world more honestly.

Seeing these cute flowers was a first for us.

We have found that historic properties often reveal the everyday lives that history books overlook. Grand events are important, but it is the small details that tend to resonate most. A narrow servant staircase tucked out of sight. A child’s bedroom, no larger than a closet. A kitchen hearth worn smooth by generations of hands. These details humanize the past and make it easier to imagine ourselves there, dealing with the same fears, hopes, and routines, just under very different circumstances.

As nomads, these places also provide a strange sense of continuity. When you are constantly moving, it can be easy to feel untethered. Historic properties remind us that movement, change, and adaptation are not new concepts. People have always migrated, rebuilt, expanded, and endured. Standing in a home that has survived wars, economic collapse, or natural disasters puts our own temporary inconveniences into perspective. It is humbling and oddly comforting.

June apologized for the dandelions and the sparse lawn, citing a lack of rain at the time. We could easily imagine a lush green lawn in a more rainy climate.

Some of our favorite moments happen after we leave the property itself. We sit with a coffee nearby, looking back at the structure from a distance, imagining how many others have stood in that same spot with entirely different lives and futures ahead of them. In those moments, travel feels less like ticking destinations off a list and more like participating in an ongoing human story.

Visiting historic properties has taught us to travel with curiosity rather than urgency. These places reward patience and attention. They invite reflection. As we continue to move through the world, they remain some of the most meaningful stops on our journey, quiet reminders that, as we pass through, the stories we encounter are enduring, layered, and deeply worth listening to.

This evening, we’re heading out to dinner with our lovely landlords and new friends, Dave and Eing. They have been incredibly kind to us. Most recently, after Dave read our post about being out of rice, he showed up at the door the next day with a new bag of jasmine rice. Such a small gesture, yet so thoughtful. Tomorrow, we’ll share photos and details from our evening out.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 5, 2016:

Our host, June, whom we met at the supermarket, invited us to see her historic home in New Plymouth, New Zealand. Plas Mawr is a historic custom home built in 1913 by the renowned New Zealand architect James Chapman-Taylor, with a stunning garden as shown here. For more photos, please click here.

Valentine’s Day is on the horizon…Travel gifts as an alternative to candy and flowers…

It was romantic to experience a dinner cruise on the Seine in Paris in 2014. See the post here.

With Valentine’s Day on the horizon on February 14, my thoughts drift, as they often do, to places rather than presents. Romance, for us, has always been deeply tied to location. Certain cities seem to carry love in the air, woven into their streets, their food, their light at dusk. These are places where time slows just enough to notice small gestures, lingering glances, shared silences. Whether you arrive hand in hand or fall in love with the place itself, some cities simply understand romance better than others.

We were nearing the end of the cruise when I took this outdoor photo of Tom.

Planning a special romantic Valentine’s Day vacation for your loved one is less about ticking boxes and more about tuning into the quiet nature of who you are together. It begins long before flights are booked or bags are packed. It starts with observation. The way they linger over morning coffee. The places they mention in passing, usually prefaced with “someday.” The small comforts they crave when life feels too loud. Romance lives in those details, not in grand gestures alone. However, a special romantic trip presented to your loved one on Valentine’s Day can create memories you will cherish forever.

Talk about romantic! There we were, sitting on a Zodiac boat in Pleneau Bay, sipping on French champagne. Was that ever fun! See the post here.

When I think about planning a Valentine’s escape, I imagine stepping briefly outside the rush of everyday responsibilities and creating a pocket of time that belongs only to us. A pause. A soft reset. The destination matters, of course, but it is the intention that shapes the experience. Whether it is a familiar place revisited or somewhere entirely new, the goal is the same: to reconnect without distractions and remember why you chose each other in the first place.

Choosing the destination becomes an act of love. Maybe it is a quiet coastal town where mornings begin with mist rising off the water and evenings end wrapped in blankets, listening to waves collapse onto the shore. Or perhaps it is a historic city where cobblestone streets encourage slow wandering, hand in hand, stopping whenever curiosity nudges you to look closer. For some couples, romance lives in nature. For others, it is found in art, food, or shared adventure. The right place is the one that mirrors your shared temperament, not someone else’s idea of romance.

Accommodation sets the emotional tone. A small guesthouse or boutique hotel often feels more intimate than a sprawling, anonymous hotel. Somewhere with windows that open, allowing fresh air and unfamiliar sounds to drift in. A place where breakfast feels unhurried and evenings invite conversation rather than screens. It is worth choosing comfort over luxury if comfort means space to breathe and be yourselves.

The real magic, though, is in how the days unfold. We like to leave room for unplanned moments. Over-scheduling can turn a romantic getaway into another checklist. Instead, we think in gentle outlines. A long walk after breakfast. A midday break that invites a nap or quiet reading. One thoughtful activity per day, chosen not for Instagram appeal but for shared enjoyment. Maybe it is a cooking class, learning something new side by side. Maybe it is a scenic drive with no destination beyond curiosity. These are the moments that linger long after the trip ends.

How romantic, New Year’s Eve in 2017 in Buenos Aires! See the post here.

Food plays an emotional role in travel and even more so on Valentine’s Day. Planning one special meal can anchor the entire experience. Not necessarily the most expensive restaurant, but one that feels intentional. Candlelight, unhurried courses, and a sense that time has slowed just for you. We also love the simplicity of shared food rituals. Picking up local cheeses. Sitting somewhere beautiful, saying little, letting the setting do the talking. These small acts often feel more intimate than anything elaborate.

Thoughtful surprises add depth without overwhelming the experience. A handwritten note tucked into a suitcase. A playlist curated for the journey, filled with songs that trace your history together. Perhaps a small gift tied to the place you are visiting, something meaningful rather than ornamental. These gestures say, “You mean the world to me,” which is the most romantic message of all.

Valentine’s Day itself does not need fireworks. Sometimes it is enough to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, reach for your partner’s hand, and feel grateful. A slow morning. A shared laugh over something trivial. An evening walk under unfamiliar stars. Romance often reveals itself when expectations are gentle, and presence is complete.

In the end, planning a Valentine’s Day vacation is an act of care. It is about creating space for closeness, reflection, and shared memory. Long after the bags are unpacked and daily life resumes, what remains is the feeling you carried home with you. The quiet certainty that, wherever you are in the world, choosing each other still feels like the best journey of a lifetime.

We will share more photos of romantic experiences over the years on Valentine’s Day!

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 4, 2016:

Tom, standing outside Taylor Dental Practice in New Plymouth, New Zealand. He had an abscessed tooth, which resulted in an extraction. For the story and more photos, please click here.

For those who haven’t checked in lately…Those annoying ads on our website are gone!…

Agapanthus flowers in New Zealand are classified as weeds and considered invasive, although they are beautiful, as they grow along roads and highways.

After a grueling month spent untangling maintenance issues on our website, I finally feel comfortable placing this chapter gently behind me, at least for a little while. It has been one of those stretches where the work is invisible to everyone else but consumes an extraordinary amount of mental space. The kind of work that follows you into your sleep and reappears first thing in the morning with a new question or concern.

With Hostinger, our excellent hosting company, and its network of technicians worldwide, most major issues have now been resolved. These technicians step in when needed for a reasonable fee, and their expertise has been invaluable. At this point, only a few minor issues remain, nothing urgent enough to demand immediate attention or disrupt our daily posts. For now, the site is running more efficiently than it has in quite some time. However, we are experiencing paragraph spacing issues, which we reported today to our new tech guy. This should be resolved within a day or two.

That said, technology never stands still. Given the current style and design of our site, along with ongoing WordPress changes, I know a redesign will eventually be necessary to ensure compatibility and stability. Rather than rushing into that process while we are constantly on the move, I have decided to postpone the redesign until we reach Marloth Park. There, we will be staying on and off for nine months, providing the stability and focus that such a project truly requires.

When that time comes, I will be sure to notify our readers in advance. There may be a brief period when the site is inaccessible, but it should be no more than a few days. If we do not take this step at some point, the risk is that the site could eventually crash altogether. While I am hopeful it will hold until then, I also want to be transparent. Even if the site were to crash unexpectedly before our planned redesign, we would not be down for long. We monitor things closely and will immediately launch the new version.

In practical terms, the most you would experience is a brief pause in access to our daily posts. There will be nothing for you to do and nothing you need to fix or adjust on your end. We will handle it and keep you informed every step of the way.

I truly appreciate the patience you have shown during this recent maintenance period. It means more than you might realize. I am also relieved and genuinely happy to say that we are now up and running more smoothly in the interim. For those who haven’t checked in lately, you will notice a very welcome change. All of those annoying ads are gone.

We deliberately chose to forgo any potential revenue from that intrusive advertising style. Instead, we chose to focus only on the advertisers displayed on the right side of the page when viewed on a computer and at the bottom of the page when reading on a smartphone. This felt more respectful of your experience and more aligned with the spirit of why we started this site in the first place.

If you are able, please help support us by using those links when they are relevant to you. The small amount of revenue they generate helps offset some of the costs of maintaining this free site. The prices and services are exactly the same as if you visited those websites directly through your browser.

Thank you, as always, for your patience, understanding, and continued presence here with us.
On another note, yesterday turned out to be the hottest day we have experienced since arriving in Kaiwaka in mid December. On paper, it hardly sounded dramatic at all, just 80F or 27C. In reality, the humidity told a very different story. At 95 percent, the air felt thick and unrelenting, with a dew point of 78 degrees creating an oppressive, nearly saturated atmosphere. Everything felt sticky and heavy, even indoors. For the first time, in the late afternoon, we switched on the air conditioner in the lounge room and let it run until bedtime. Thankfully, today feels calm, cooler, and wonderfully comfortable again.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 3, 2016:

A horse, shown in New Plymouth, New Zealand, wore a blanket to regulate body temperature and protect it from the elements. For more photos, please click here.

Ten years ago…Have we changed much in ten years?…

The main thoroughfare, Eliot St., in downtown New Plymouth heads out to the ocean.

The following is a slightly revised (I corrected numerous errors) copy of a post from ten years ago, found here.

“When we arrived in New Plymouth 15 days ago, we expected WiFi to be available. This wasn’t the case, and we had no choice but to head to a local phone store, buy a device, and load up on expensive data.

To date, we’ve spent NZ 593 and US $388 on Internet access fees, an expense we hadn’t anticipated. Don’t get me wrong… the owners are very kind and caring people, and we’ve greatly appreciated their efforts and attention to detail.

They had no idea it would take so long to get service, assuming only a day or two. They’d tried to arrange it over the holidays but couldn’t pin down a date. We have no doubt they tried. But, as in many parts of the world, not everything happens according to a schedule one would prefer.

Ornate house on a corner.

Actually, we feel bad about how much pressure we’ve placed on them as the WiFi bill continues to rack up expenses day after day. Yesterday, I paid the bill after Spark set up an account for us to be paid monthly, without requiring a 12-month contract.

Yesterday, Trish stopped by with an extra fan (without our asking) since we’ve been hauling the one fan we had up and down the stairs every day. Although the air is relatively cool here in summer, the metal roof makes the house very hot on sunny days.

St. Andrews Presbyterian Church in downtown New Plymouth is another historic building.

We’ve decided to keep the doors open, welcoming the cool breezes most days, and deal with the flies. They aren’t biting flies and seem fairly easy to swat with the flyswatter we purchased. They are considerably less prevalent on cooler, windy days. By dinner time, we close the doors, kill the flies, and have dinner, preferring that no flies buzz over our food. This plan seems to be working.

After handing me the fan, Trish explained she’d heard from Vodafone, who are to arrive today. We had an appointment with June for today and had planned to grocery shop after we were done. We immediately contacted June, apologizing and kindly asking that we change the date. She was happy to make a change.

Contemporary houses overlooking the ocean.

In the process, we decided to postpone the grocery shopping until Thursday, after Tom’s 10:15 dentist appointment. We have enough food on hand for Wednesday’s meals. Goodness, we haven’t had “appointments” to speak of other than our medical exams while in Australia.

We’ve loved having a simple life, avoiding planning and instead waiting until we “feel like” doing something. Now, we have three dinner reservations looming: for Valentine’s Day, my birthday, and our anniversary; Tom’s dental appointments; and the meeting with June.

Has our free-spirited lifestyle taken a break while we’re here in convenient New Zealand with everything we could need or want at our fingertips? There’s even a movie theatre here showing current US movies at NZ 10, US $6.55 for seniors. Perhaps, we’ll give it a try on a rainy day.

Modern-style houses and apartments.

The last time Tom and I attended a movie together was in the theatres on cruise ships or watching on the huge screen out by the beach, but attending an actual movie theatre?

The last time I attended a movie, Interstellar, was with my son Greg in December 2014 in Hawaii, when the family visited us on the Big Island. Both my sons and I always enjoyed attending movies together, especially back in my days of eating popcorn, long since passed.

Seldom do we have access to an English-speaking movie theatre. Seldom do we make appointments, locking ourselves into specific dates and times for events, except on travel days.

As much as parts of our lives may require extensive planning and preparation for the next leg of the journey, the next year, and, oftentimes, two years out, our daily lives are simple and uncomplicated. Somehow, it all works.

When all is said and done, we’re blissfully happy. Having accomplished that single feat in life is more than either of us ever expected during these “golden years” of our lives.

On Valentine’s night, we have a dinner reservation at Table Restaurant, as shown on the right of this photo.

Isn’t that our ultimate desire… happiness, seemingly elusive, yet once a decision is made to become happy? We often find the opportunities to do so right at our fingertips. We’re truly blessed and grateful to have found it, and we’ll continue to hang on tight for as long as we can.

May your day bring you happiness.”

After reading this ten-year-old post, I don’t see that we’ve changed that much. We may have become more tolerant, resilient, and perhaps even more resourceful after a plethora of unexpected experiences. We are still the same individuals and the same couple who thrive on life on the road and being together. Who knows what the future holds, or whether we’ll still be traveling in years to come? We live one day at a time, grateful for every opportunity, for every moment, of precious life on the move in this vast world.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 2, 2016:

Colorful apartment building in New Plymouth, New Zealand. For more photos, please click here.

Is AI going to replace your job?…An eye-opening article for those who still work but would like to travel the world…

Do you dream of this type of job?

I’m not certain of our readers’ demographics, but it’s likely that at least half are still working, still committed to routines and responsibilities, while quietly daydreaming about what it might feel like to travel the world with fewer constraints. That space between obligation and imagination is familiar. This morning, while sipping coffee and watching another new day unfold, I stumbled across an article I felt compelled to share. It lingered with me longer than expected, tapping into conversations we’ve heard more and more often, especially among friends and acquaintances who are still firmly planted in the workforce.

Many people are understandably concerned that artificial intelligence may one day take over their current jobs, or at least reshape them beyond recognition. It’s a heavy thought, and one that can stir anxiety if left unchecked. But what struck me most was the article’s underlying message. Rather than reacting with fear, it suggested responding with intention. What better way to face that possibility than to have a plan in place, a thoughtful alternative path, should a human job suddenly disappear?

For those still working, still saving, still imagining a different type of life, this perspective feels especially relevant. Planning isn’t pessimism. It’s empowerment. And sometimes, it’s the first quiet step toward a life you’ve only dared to imagine so far. Here’s the article from Travel and Leisure online magazine:

“13 Jobs That Pay You to Travel the World
Here’s proof you can turn a passion for travel into a full-fledged career. By Lydia Mansel
Published on January 29, 2026

As a freelance travel journalist, I’m frequently told I have the “dream job.” Multiple times a month, I fly to a new city, new state, or new country, searching for adventures and stories. Like all careers, there are definitely downsides, but there’s not a day that goes by that I’m not grateful for the experiences this type of career has afforded me. After all, if it wasn’t for this job, I may never have seen the famous bears in Katmai National Park and Preserve or ridden in a truck rounding up one of the largest bison herds in the U.S.

But becoming a travel writer or editor isn’t the only way to get paid to explore the world. There are dozens of other jobs you can choose that will inevitably take you to new places. Below, we rounded up 13 of them, along with firsthand advice from people who have made travel a core part of their work.

English Teacher
If you want to move abroad for a period of time, teaching English as a second language is an effective way to make that happen—but you’ll typically need to get your Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) certification, a process that takes about 120 hours. The effort is worth it, though, as Shayna Stewart, a Rosetta Stone English tutor, attests. “Through teaching English, I have been able to explore what life looks like in the highlands of Mexico and get glimpses into the lives of students in Ethiopia, Vietnam, Turkey, and so many other countries,” she tells Travel + Leisure.

As far as advice for those interested in this type of career, she suggests taking the time to “truly learn English” and “have an idea of what is actually happening linguistically.” “Learning a language is one of the hardest things many people will ever do. Making sure to be prepared to guide others through that process requires more than fluency; it requires awareness, intention, and an understanding of how language works,” she says. “That preparation, organization, and critical thinking not only make you a better teacher but also position you more competitively in the eyes of employers.”

Travel Advisor
Travel advisors (or travel agents) are experts in travel planning; it’s their job to know the ins and outs of destinations, airlines, and on-the-ground experiences so they can plan the perfect trip for clients. “In my role, I design highly personalized, luxury travel experiences for clients—everything from milestone family trips to once-in-a-lifetime honeymoons and multi-week international itineraries,” says McLean Robbins, founder and lead designer at Lily Pond Luxury. “I earn commissions from hotels and partners I book on behalf of my clients, as well as planning fees for complex itineraries. The travel itself is research, essential to doing my job well.”

If you’re interested in becoming a travel advisor, she recommends treating the work “as a business, not a hobby.” “The most successful travel advisors aren’t just well-traveled—they’re excellent listeners, strong operators, and deeply curious. Learn how hotels actually work, understand contracts and margins, and build genuine relationships across the industry,” she says. “And most importantly, develop a point of view. Clients don’t need more options—they need confidence in a recommendation.”

Can you imagine this job?

Publicist
You can be a publicist or a public relations specialist and get paid to travel, even without working directly in the travel industry. In this field, you’ll be responsible for managing a client’s (or multiple clients’) media presence and public image, which can often result in flying around the world for events or meetings. “As a publicist working across industries, I get paid to travel for clients for many different reasons,” shares Tracy Lamourie, listing speaking engagements, film festivals, launch parties, and industry events.

Unsurprisingly, a PR role requires lots of face-to-face contact. “My best advice for someone wanting to do what I do is be very social in real life, not just on platforms,” she says. “Essentially, PR is presentation, understanding human nature, and being the person people come to when things go wrong. Excellent communication, stability, being unflappable in crisis, and being unimpressed by fame are all essential job tools.”

Consultant
There are all types of consultants, from HR and marketing to legal and financial. Their role is typically to advise clients on specific issues under a short-term contract. Depending on the exact type of consulting you go into (and the company you work for), you could find yourself traveling on a monthly, weekly, or even daily basis to client sites. Many consultants, for example, spend long stretches in the air and staying in hotels—the ideal role for someone who wants to rack up airline miles and hotel points.

Flight Crew
As a flight attendant or a pilot, you’ll spend your days in the air, flying from city to city. Both roles require training; to fly a commercial plane, you’ll need 1,500 hours of experience, and flight attendant training typically takes between six and eight weeks. Once you’ve officially landed your role, though, expect long days (and nights) and relatively rough schedules. Don’t let that dissuade you, though; there are a handful of travel benefits, including free flights, that come with the territory.

Ship Crew
Maybe you’re more interested in traveling by sea than by air. If that’s the case, you may want to consider a maritime career. Ships come in all sizes—luxury yachts, holiday cruises, mega-ships, etc.—and they all require a crew of hardworking people to properly (and safely) operate them. Some roles are more front-facing, such as entertainers or servers on a cruise ship. Others are more behind-the-scenes; stewards and engineers may have less interaction with customers or clients. No matter which direction you choose, plan on signing weeks- or months-long contracts.

Photographer
Creativity and freedom go hand in hand in the life of a professional photographer, whether they specialize in weddings, landscapes, or wildlife. Lisa Michele Burns, a photographer and the founder of The Wandering Lens, for example, focuses on “luxury lodges, remote regions, and outdoor adventures.” But, she says, “As a travel photographer, the projects and client requirements are always so varied, which keeps things exciting, creatively inspiring, and unpredictable. One project could be to photograph an image library that showcases the activities, scenery, design, and decor of a beautiful hotel, while another job could see me underwater photographing marine life and coral restoration projects.”

It’s definitely a competitive business, but there are a few things you can do to find success and make sure your work stands out. “Diversity is key as a travel photographer, and you don’t want to rely on a single income stream, so it’s essential to build a network of clients in your chosen industry, in addition to creating additional avenues like selling prints or licensing your work,” says Burns. “I’d also recommend avoiding the comparison trap, particularly in a world of social media and endless content. Stay curious, creative, and explore a career on your own terms by following the locations and subjects you’re drawn to photograph, then finding the clients that align with this direction.”

Videographer
Like a photographer, a videographer can be flown around the world to capture dynamic, beautiful content—everything from nature to weddings. Kaitlyn Holeman, a videographer and photographer at Skyewater Photo + Film, specializes in “adventure elopement and small weddings.”

“The packages I create for each couple are fully customizable, and I wrap all my own travel costs into the price upfront, which potential clients really appreciate,” she says. “Having traveled to a variety of places including the Pacific Northwest, California, Colorado, Vermont, Alaska, Mexico, Greece, and The Bahamas, I already know the estimate of my flights, lodging, meals, and other transportation costs for travel to each region, so I can account for all of that without having to add on any surprise fees later in the planning process.”

If wedding videography piques your interest, she has one major piece of advice. “Dedicate time to travel to a couple of top chosen destinations for weddings to build content and real firsthand experience in the places you want to work,” she says. “Clients love being able to work with someone who’s at least been to the destination they want to get married in. Knowing exactly how easy or difficult certain places are to access or when is the best time of year to visit certain destinations helps show expertise.”

Travel Nurse
As a travel nurse, you’ll fill temporary positions in hospitals, clinics, and other healthcare facilities in destinations across the country—and even around the world. Karen O’Donnell Fountain, a Fastaff ER nurse and director of clinical services, says she usually accepts short-term assignments (between eight and 13 weeks). “I complete the same core clinical work as staff nurses, but I’m stepping into new environments regularly, so adaptability is a big part of the job. One contract I might be working in a busy urban Level 1 trauma center, and the next I could be in a rural hospital that serves a tight-knit community,” she explains. This type of role, she adds, allows her to “travel, do the work I love, and get paid well for my skills.”

“Facilities pay a competitive wage to secure an experienced nurse for a short-term assignment. My compensation usually includes an hourly wage plus tax-free stipends for housing, meals, and incidentals, as long as I’m working away from my permanent home and duplicating expenses,” she says. “Sometimes housing is arranged for me; other times I receive a stipend and choose my own place. Travel costs may also be reimbursed. An agency typically handles contracts, pay structure, and logistics, which makes the process smoother.”

Au Pair or Nanny
A role as an au pair or nanny isn’t just a job; it’s a full cultural immersion. “When I was in my early 20s, I had an urge to get out and see the world, but I didn’t have the budget. This led me to researching all of the ways I could make a little money abroad. One of those was through being an au pair,” says Sarah Pardi, a former au pair and the current global head of travel content at Insurte. “I learned that most au pair positions are in exchange for room and board, plus a stipend, but it varies depending on the country and its local laws. I also learned that visas are required, but many countries have specific ‘au pair visas’ designed exactly for these purposes.” There are all kinds of sites and agencies designed to match potential au pairs with families, and Pardi notes it’s paramount to do your research and only work with the most reputable sources.

Content Creator
The jobs of content creators and influencers are constantly shifting depending on their social media platforms and niche. When you see these public figures on the go, they may be getting paid by a larger brand—like a hotel, tourism board, or airline—or they’re creating content that will eventually earn them money. YouTubers, for instance, are typically paid ad revenue based on engagement and views. To become a fully independent content creator, you’ll need to focus on consistency and find a subject that resonates with an audience.

Scientist or Researcher
Creatives aren’t the only ones who can get paid to travel. Those with more analytical minds—namely biologists, geologists, ecologists, and anthropologists—often conduct fieldwork as part of their research. Sometimes, it does require finding (and applying for) grants to fund the travel itself, but there are also roles funded through universities or private companies. Your work could bring you to some of the world’s most far-flung and isolated places; Antarctica, for instance, is home to many year-round research stations.

Foreign Service Officer
If you plan to study global policy or foreign affairs in college—or have recently completed a degree—a career as a U.S. Foreign Service Officer (FSO) or diplomat may be in your future. The U.S. government notes there are five career tracks: economic officers, consular officers, management officers, political officers, and public diplomacy officers. Your exact assignment and placement will depend on your skills and the government’s interests and goals.”

Hopefully, for those of you who would consider working while traveling, even if none of these suggestions feel like the right fit, they may still spark ideas of your own, ideas better aligned with your unique skills, interests, and curiosities. Sometimes inspiration doesn’t arrive as a perfect solution but as a gentle nudge, encouraging you to think differently about what might be possible beyond the familiar boundaries of traditional work.

We’ve learned along the way that the path rarely looks the same for everyone. What works beautifully for one person may feel entirely wrong for another, and that’s part of the adventure. The value lies in staying open, in allowing new concepts to simmer, evolve, and eventually take a shape that feels authentic to you.

If nothing else, perhaps this serves as a reminder that alternatives do exist, even if they’re not immediately obvious. With a bit of creativity and courage, new doors have a way of opening when you least expect them. Thanks so much for stopping by and sharing a moment of your day with us.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 1, 2016:

This beautiful church in New Plymouth, New Zealand, was being demolished because it wasn’t earthquake-proof. For the story and more photos, please click here.

Starting to think about leaving New Zealand…

It’s ironic how cattle and other farm animals tend to hang out together.

Note: Due to WiFi issues, our paragraph spacing is impossible to change.

With only twelve days left until February 12, the calendar has begun to inch closer to our departure. The date sits there reminding us that we will soon be heading back to Auckland, New Zealand, only to turn around and fly onward to Hobart, Tasmania. As always, when a stay begins to wind down, we find ourselves doing mental inventories. Not of memories, though those matter deeply, but of food. How much do we have left? How many meals can we stretch from what remains? Can we make it to departure day without one last grocery run?

This ritual has become part of our departure process after so many years of moving from one place to another on this long and winding journey around the world. Each holiday home brings the same quiet calculations to a close. Jars opened and half used. Freezers peered into with hope. Shelves are examined with creativity rather than desire. This time, the stakes feel slightly higher because the grocery stores are far away, and the drive is long enough to make us both pause before heading out. We would much rather stay put, savoring the final days, than spend hours in the car for a handful of items we might be able to do without.
Based on what we have counted so far, it looks promising. We should be able to make it through without another trip. Mostly. The only snag is that Tom runs out of rice tomorrow. Rice has been his dependable side dish, accompanying every meal I prepare. Without it, there is nothing obvious waiting in the pantry to take its place. I have already begun thinking creatively, wondering what might step in without disrupting our carefully settled routine.
It’s ironic how they all hang out within close proximity to one another.

We stopped eating salads some time ago, and I miss them. Tom, not so much. They seemed innocent enough, but they quietly stalled our weight loss, and we are too close to our goals to ignore that. We have stayed committed to our intermittent fasting plan, with one healthy, nutritious meal each day. It has brought a simplicity that we both appreciate. Tom is now within 5 pounds (2.3 kilograms) of his goal weight. I am within 10 pounds (4.5 kilograms) of my goal weight. For the first time in years, we are both on track to return to the weight we were when we first began our travels in 2012.

There is something deeply satisfying about that realization. We are still losing about one pound, or half a kilogram, each week, steady and calm. It feels sustainable, not rushed. Especially after the last cruise, where we both indulged far too freely. We gained more than we wanted to admit at the time, but now it is all gone, gone, gone. That chapter feels closed.

On our upcoming cruise, returning to Royal Caribbean’s Voyager of the Seas in April, we intend to be far more mindful. This may well be the last time we sail on a large ship. With nearly four thousand passengers, it has become a breeding ground for illness, and we are tired of paying that price. In Tasmania, we plan to visit a doctor to secure enough Tamiflu to carry us through the twenty-five-night journey. From then on, we have decided that only smaller ships will do, seven hundred passengers or fewer. When we sailed on Azamara in 2023 with around six hundred passengers, we never got sick. That experience, along with getting so sick on the recent 47-night journey, changed how we think about cruising.

This peacock and his mate visit almost daily.

Today, though, none of that feels urgent. It is warm and sunny, one of those days that invites an easy day rather than a lot of planning. We will enjoy it fully by stepping outside often and watching for any visiting farm animals or wandering wildlife. These quiet moments, surrounded by sunlight and simple routines, feel just as meaningful as the miles we continue to travel.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, January 30, 2016:

It’s hard to believe how these young alpacas have quickly adjusted to our presence on the alpaca farm in New Zealand. For more photos, please click here.