We woke up at four in the morning, packed everything into the trailer, and piled into the van once again. We should have been miserable, but we were all still smiling.

In New Zealand and in Australia, I woke up each day with bright eyes and ready feet. I had not a care for my aches or pains (though there were always many) and felt full of a never ending supply of adventuresome spirit. It was very rare for one of us to feel a lack of excitement for the day's plans- though, of course, it did happen; living every hour with the same group of people for two months comes with its inherent challenges. But, waking up with the next dawn, I would realize that I was on the top of a mountain in Kahurangi National Park, and that I had trekked all the way up there on my own two feet. Or that I was camping in the bush in Australia, being woken by the laughter of the kookaburras. Or yawning, sore as can be, at Surfaris Surf Camp in Crescent Head, ready to throw myself into the arms of the Pacific Ocean once again, to be battered by its waves until I could learn to ride them. I felt giddy with the beauty of the world and its people. This trip never felt like...a program to me. It just felt like living. Like true, joyous living.