We travelled in New Zealand recently. Me, my wife Rishi, our 3 year old daughter Seher, 1 year old son Nidar and my Mum and Dad. We flew into Christchurch, hired a motorhome, drove around for the next 14 days and flew back out of Auckland. Some people (white ones mostly!) told me I was crazy. Either my parents would disown me or my wife would divorce me. Or at least somebody will get hurt real bad.
Yeah fair enough, I understand travelling in a motorhome is vastly different to travelling in cars and hotels. There is no escape in a motorhome. You sleep together, you eat together, you drive together, you play together and then you sleep together again and again and again. There are no secrets in a motorhome. Every sound, every smell, every sight and every aspect of your life is shared amongst everyone. But as someone who grew up in India with an over-developed sense of family and an under-developed sense of entitlement and personal space, I didn't see what the big deal was.
So we all went around New Zealand. Ate and slept and prayed and played in our 7M by 3M box for 14 days and nights. No-one died, we all survived and so did our relationships. Sure, there were a few awkward moments but all up, the little inconveniences and irritations paled before the great satisfaction of being able to share some of life's most fantastic moments with one's parents. Of course, a large part of the credit for that goes to Rishi for being a massively understanding wife and daughter-in-law. I am lucky indeed to have someone with her old school values in this new school world.
Yeah fair enough, I understand travelling in a motorhome is vastly different to travelling in cars and hotels. There is no escape in a motorhome. You sleep together, you eat together, you drive together, you play together and then you sleep together again and again and again. There are no secrets in a motorhome. Every sound, every smell, every sight and every aspect of your life is shared amongst everyone. But as someone who grew up in India with an over-developed sense of family and an under-developed sense of entitlement and personal space, I didn't see what the big deal was.
So we all went around New Zealand. Ate and slept and prayed and played in our 7M by 3M box for 14 days and nights. No-one died, we all survived and so did our relationships. Sure, there were a few awkward moments but all up, the little inconveniences and irritations paled before the great satisfaction of being able to share some of life's most fantastic moments with one's parents. Of course, a large part of the credit for that goes to Rishi for being a massively understanding wife and daughter-in-law. I am lucky indeed to have someone with her old school values in this new school world.
But really, I don’t know why people freak out over sharing intimate space with their parents. All it takes is a little patience, understanding and respect. A little rubbing and irritation is a small price to pay for the great, everlasting rewards. So if you're hesitant, give travelling with your parents a shot. No-one will die (unless you're the fockers or something), I promise and you will likely create memories to cherish forever, especially when your parents are gone.
OK Harry, less talk more pics fucken!
A motorhome is a great way to travel. It really is a home on wheels. All the basic needs in life - cooking, sleeping and cleaning (yourself and your belongings), are taken care of. What else do you really NEED? We had a microwave, a 4 burner gas stove, an oven, a toaster, a kettle, dishes & crockery, a toilet and shower and 3 double beds. It was very comfortable and I dare say it’s the ideal way to travel with kids. You go at your own pace, stop wherever you want and cook some lunch or make some tea. No unpacking and packing at each stop.
Sure, it doesn’t exactly set your pulse racing with its road performance, handles like a fucking bouncy castle and gives you a new appreciation of the advisory speed signs on corners. But what it does do is give you many freedomz. More freedomz than a Hog of Harleys even.
I hate pre-booking things, preferring to just go with the flow and a campervan allows you to do that. We made no bookings for the whole trip. When we started in the morning, we didn’t know where we’d stop for lunch or spend the night. We drifted along discovering things. Stopping for naps in forests, swims in mountain streams, play in playground and lunches in alpine meadows. It was fucken fantastic.
Sure, it doesn’t exactly set your pulse racing with its road performance, handles like a fucking bouncy castle and gives you a new appreciation of the advisory speed signs on corners. But what it does do is give you many freedomz. More freedomz than a Hog of Harleys even.
I hate pre-booking things, preferring to just go with the flow and a campervan allows you to do that. We made no bookings for the whole trip. When we started in the morning, we didn’t know where we’d stop for lunch or spend the night. We drifted along discovering things. Stopping for naps in forests, swims in mountain streams, play in playground and lunches in alpine meadows. It was fucken fantastic.
We arrived in Christchurch in the middle of the night. Fuck cheap flights! Never travelling at odd hours with kids ever again! Anyway, we picked up the campervan, rolled around Christchurch for a bit and then hit the highway heading south. I had heard of New Zealand’s majestic scenery but the sheer grandeur of the mountains, forests, lakes and coastline far exceeded my expectations. It cannot be adequately captured in photos.
And the roads, fucken wow! Consistently smooth and grippy surfaces, extremely well maintained, with endless corners in almost every direction. It is truly a motorcycling paradise.
What a great experience. Sharing it with the people who matter most in my life made it even more special.
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