New Zealand

As many of you know, I have spent the last two weeks aimlessly cruising through the land of Kiwis. Kiwi – a native bird here, and often used to describe the inhabitants of the land (ex. "I want to go to New Zealand to meet some Kiwis."). I have concluded that Kiwis are among the coolest people on earth. They are extremely happy, helpful and friendly. That being said, here lies the tales of the past two weeks down under. The first part is a bit mundane, just like my holiday, but it gets exponentially better. I've learned a lot during my two weeks here, and had some profound realizations. There are many "bigger picture" lessons intertwined throughout the post, and although it is a bit longer, I had to condense two of the most action packed weeks of my life into one blog post. I think it's a good read and much can be learned from some of the experiences I had. I spent nearly five days writing this and put my heart and soul into this one, so I hope ya'll take something out of this. By this I mean more than just living vicariously through a blog post. Please let me know what you think by sending emails, comments, concerns or questions to alectorelli@gmail.com. Enjoy!





I arrived in Queenstown, southern part of the south island, on December 27th. I checked into the Rydges Hotel right on the lake and in the heart of town. It was a nice hotel, equipped with the works, lake view, balcony, room service and of course, internet! I immediately booked heaps of events such as wine tasting, jet boat ride, Milford Sound tour (one of the most popular destinations in New Zealand), hang gliding and with several different events for New Years. I set out on the 28th for a gorgeous day on the vineyards. After coming back with a nice buzz, I headed into town in search of a good meal. After much deliberation, I came across an amazing Thai place with several alluring waitresses. I landed on "go" when I was paired up with an inviting Brazilian. We chatted for a bit, and she promptly offered to entertain me along with her three Argentinean roommates on New Years.

"Sofia, it's good to meet you."

She spoke decent English, but would consistently use incorrect words in sentences. You know, "what do you do on New Years?" instead of "what are you doing on New Years?" and sentences of that nature. I didn't mind though. She had an adorable Spanish accent and I'm a huge sucker for those. I told her I'd give her a shout on New Years' eve to figure out plans. So far, so good.

I awoke the next morning to find it was pouring rain outside. I was forced to cancel hang gliding and my jet boat ride and decided I should use the opportunity to take care of some errands and get a workout in. I was a bit jet lagged, but a vanilla cappuccino from the local cafe did the trick. Around 3 p.m it was still pouring rain and I was out of things to do. Hindered by the weather, I was forced to play some poker. I broke a promise to myself but dire circumstances call for dire measures. Over the next few days, the rain was relentless and I logged about 15 hours and managed to make roughly $40,000. Rough detour, I know.

New Years Eve approached and before I knew it, I decided to take Sofia up on her offer and give her a buzz. No answer. Tilt. I remember her saying she'd be working until at least 10 p.m and I wasn't about to wait around. I headed into town to find some trouble. Ironically, I ran into Sofia on her break and she wasn't going to be off until midnight. I told her to give me a call when she got off and if I was coherent enough to talk, I promised to answer. I headed to the nearest bar and began to mingle. It started to pour and I contemplated offering people inordinate amounts of money for their umbrella but decided against it. Nobody seemed to be affected by the rain. There were hundreds of people roaming the streets, drinking, dancing with live music running into the wee hours of the night. I landed a spot on the waterfront to watch the firework show at midnight. Afterwards, I checked my phone to see if Sofia called only to find out it was dead. Beat. I headed home a few hours and several drinks later to a lonely bed.

The following few days were more of the same. I finally decided that I needed to leave Queenstown and went in search of some sun. I figured out the there was a bus tour that ran along the west coast of the South Island. I caught a flight to Nelson (about a 1 hour flight to the northern part of the south island) and finally found some sun! I decided that I needed a change of scenery and found a local hostel to stay at in an attempt to meet some people. I booked the last room (a pull out cot) and we squeezed seven people into something half the size of my bedroom. We had four guys, and three girls and there was literally nowhere to walk. The floor was packed with dirty clothes, suitcases, food, shoes and everything else you can imagine. I didn't mind much since I knew the only thing I would be doing in the room was sleeping. I immediately made friends with an Irishman named Will who I learned had been on the road for three and a half years. He started in South America, and spent a year and a half working as a bartender at the local hostels, living, drinking and eating for free. After heading home for two weeks, he set off for Australia where he spent another year, followed by Thailand and now New Zealand. I was amazed at his carefree nature and began picking his brains for information.

The more I listened to him talk, the more I realized how right he was. It hardly cost anything to travel if you were on a tight budget. I remember reading parts of "Vagabonding" where the author depicts his experiences of traveling around the world living for dirt cheap and having the time of his life. Will could have written this book. He invited me out to dinner with some friends he had gotten to know over the last few weeks. There was Ad and Kaite, the hilariously funny, crude and witty couple from UK. Jane, the French Canadian who was studying abroad in Sydney and just visiting on holiday. And Marie, the 24 year old nurse from Belgium. We spent the next few hours shooting the shit, drinking goon (dirt cheap wine commonly found in hostels) and eating at the pub. There was no talk of jobs, our future, education, politics, or problems. Nobody knew what I did, and nobody cared. We just laughed, shared stories and lived. It was extremely refreshing to socialize in a setting with others who didn't care about anything material, didn't judge you, had similar interests, and good stories to share. It had been over a year since my last experience in hostels, and I had forgotten what it was like to just live. It's so easy to get caught up living a fast paced lifestyle in California, so it was refreshing to kick back. And for the first time since I had arrived in New Zealand a week ago, I had finally felt like I was on vacation.

I booked a two day expedition in the local Abel Tasman national park that consisted of a 12-km (7 mile) hike through the luscious rain-forest that conveniently happen to be located on the coast of one of the world's most gorgeous beaches, an overnight stay on a catamaran (similar to a sail boat), and a 10-km (6 mile) kayak tour where we were promised to see a seal colony and several other amazing parts of the Tasman Sea. I set my alarm and woke up a drop before 7:00 am to catch a 7:10am bus. Naturally, I missed it by two minutes, but luckily there was a German girl who came to my rescue. She had figured out what happened and notified me of another bus heading to the same place in a half hour. We chatted a bit as I waited around and hoped. When the bus arrived shortly after 9:00 a.m, I managed to get on, only to find out that it wasn't heading to my chosen destination. It stopped one city before the entrance to the National Park and I was left to fend for myself. I found out I was only 15 minutes from the entrance and didn't need to be in Anchorage (the overnight destination) until 4:30 p.m. Since it was only a 4.5 hour hike I figured I'd use this opportunity to grab some breakfast at the cafe before getting on the next bus. Little did I know the next bus was leaving at 9:20 a.m and there was not another bus after that until noon. By the time I finished breakfast, it was too late. I began to worry that I might not make it to Anchorage in time to catch the catamaran. I decided that I was going to use this opportunity to do something I've always wanted to do. Hitchhike. I found a corner that I thought would get the most traffic and stuck out my thumb. After several failed attempts, I decided to call my friend Justin to make it look less sketchy. I tried to downplay my American roots and put on a sweater that said, "Bellagio, Italia." "Maybe that would work," I thought. After all, I looked fairly innocent on my cell phone and with a small over night bag. I moved around to different street corners for two hours before giving up. I feel that I ran below average in expectation. I feel that your odds of getting picked up in this part of New Zealand are among the best world-wide due to the laid back culture and friendly nature of the people (similar to Maui). I must have counted fifty cars before giving up and given that there is only one road in and out of the National Park, everyone had to know where I was going. Ego shot, I headed back to the cafe and awaited my next bus. I finally made it to Marahau around 12:30 where I checked into the visitor center to let the crew know I had arrived.

I knew there were countless beaches that were worth seeing and wanted to have ample time to stop and soak up the sun. I only had a small camera bag to carry, so I used this as an opportunity to get a workout in. I set out on a fast paced walk and mixed in an occasional run. I stopped at several beaches and lookout points throughout the hike for some picture perfect moments. When I stopped for a quick bite at the spectacular "Appletree Bay", I remember thinking to myself, "wow, this is where poker has gotten me. Who would have thought?" I remembered all those times when everyone doubted me, from my teachers, friends, adults and often times myself. Yet here I was, sitting on one of the worlds most beautiful beaches, 15,000 miles from home just because I wanted to be. I've had my fair share of awe inspiring moments in my 21 years, from winning several major poker tournaments, traveling to nearly thirty countries, living a luxurious lifestyle, buying my first car, and plenty of other material things that one would think would be the measure of success. But sitting there on that beach, none of it mattered. Often times, I would hear stories about a millionaire with a private jet, two yachts and four houses. I would think to myself, "that's how you know you've made it." Well, fuck that! For the first time in my life I thought to myself, "you know what Alec, you made it." This is how I knew, and it couldn't be bought, sold or traded. It was an experience I had that for the rest of my life could not be taken away from me. I've always said (and this hold's especially true for poker) that "money comes and goes, but experiences last a lifetime." I thought back to the book "Happier" where Tal Ben Sahar details how much more influential and meaningful experiences are than possessions for enhancing our lives. Here was a picture perfect example. I continued on the rest of my journey and after seeing more of the most gorgeous landscape and beaches of my life, I arrived 2 hours and 50 minutes later. I was pretty tired from the long hike, and little food and water, but was comforted with an amazing meal and some great wine on the boat. After an amazing sunset, I caught a good night sleep in preparation for the long day ahead.

The following day we kayaked through the Tasman Sea and saw some more spectacular sites. We came within 50 feet of a seal colony, saw amazing waterfalls, beaches and granite rock formations that were exquisite. After nearly a 12 hour day, I made it back to Paradiso (the hostel) just in time to head up to the center of New Zealand viewpoint just two miles from where I was staying. It was a pretty short but very steep hike, and I ran most of the way because it was getting dark. It was pretty cool. They had a huge needle depicting the exact midpoint of New Zealand with panoramic views of the city. I went to bed wishing I had another week in Nelson to backpack through the national park. Apparently, there's a 5 day trek that is even more gorgeous, secluded and spectacular than the hike I did from Marahau to Anchorage. I only had 8 days left, and still had the entire west coast left to conquer.

"Nice meeting you." The doors closed and I walked back into the hostel to grab some free breakfast. I turned around in time to catch her waving goodbye from the window. I put my hand up shoulder height with an open palm. "Plant the seed." I thought to myself as I committed her smile to memory. "Just planting the seed."

I grabbed a seat in the middle of the bus, and as it filled, I pretended someone was sitting next to me by putting my bags in the nearby seat in an attempt to secure the whole aisle. I was extremely tired from several days of getting up at 7:00 a.m, action packed days, and staying up late drinking and socializing. My plan worked to perfection, with one exception. We were supposed to stop every hour or so for sightseeing, bathroom breaks and food. I caught a quick nap in the first segment of the ride, but upon learning that we had an eight hour day on the bus, I contemplated suicide. After realizing I didn't have enough sleeping pills to do the trick, I spent the next hour conjuring up an idea to keep myself entertained throughout the duration of our trip. By the time lunch rolled around at noon I had an elaborate plan. I produced nearly fifty general knowledge trivia questions that I could ask the rest of the bus. I bought as many pens as I could find at the next stop and found some paper I could use to pass out as well. In order to fuel the game and provide motivation, I planned to reward each correct answer with $5 NZ. I reasoned that it was a small price to pay for my sanity. I exchanged $200 and got 40 five dollar bills. I had already warned the bus driver of my plan and he promised me five minutes to announce my "game" to the bus before our next departure.

"Five dollars for whoever can name the most number of Disney movies." Everyone looked at me, half stunned. After thirty seconds when people started to realize I was serious, they began to write.

I laughed as I nodded in agreement. The idea was so bizarre to those on the bus. Most were on an extremely tight budget and five dollars was a free meal.

I watched as several people scrambled to write. Several minutes later, "time" was announced and I asked who had more than 10 answers. Several hands went up.

"Next question, who can name ten body parts that consist of three and only three letter words? An example is leg. I want the other nine. T he first one done will receive another $5."

Mario, the Austrian computer engineer. And Peter, the 28 year old Dutchman. There were plenty of others who didn't win, so I didn't catch their names. After a few questions, the game caught on and before long, I had the whole damn bus playing $5 trivia. It got pretty ridiculous at times, and competitive and I struggled to keep the questions coming as fast as people would get them. I was impressed with the knowledge the average backpackers had compared with the idiocy of the average American. I was bleeding money, but it was well worth the entertainment value. We continued to play for several hours until I had one question left. I had been saving this one all trip and figured for sure nobody would get it. I stood up and turned around to the rest of the bus.

"Gosh, I'm such a degenerate," I thought to myself. She must have known or met several others and realized I exhibited similar qualities. I mean who else would gives out money at bus trivia while backpacking across the country? It was a really cool moment that I don't think I could reenact without a lot of variables being in place. I had a really cool group of people, a long ride, and a heightened sense of boredom, all crucial elements of the equation to make the game work.

The following morning we departed for a small town called Franz-Joseph, famous for glacier hiking. They had all sorts of activities that one could take part in on the glacier, from ice climbing to helicopter rides. I opted for the extreme full day ice climb which consisted of several hours of hiking on a glacier followed by up to ten ice climbs. We got situated with ice picks, shoes, harnesses and due to a recent change in weather, waterproof jackets and gloves. After doing five climbs I can say that I have a new found respect for the sickos that do that on a regular basis. I like to think I'm in good shape with above average upper body strength, but I was humbled when I was 30 feet in the air on a vertical block of ice trying to hammer an axe into a block of ice and make it stick. I had a blast though, and got to do something I would never do elsewhere while being surrounded by scenic views of waterfalls, trees and ice caves.

After a ten hour day on the glacier, we headed back in town and convened for some drinks. I was supposed to meet everyone in the common area around 8 p.m. I still had to book accommodations for Queenstown, and while I was waiting I decided to log a few hours of poker. I didn't feel like reading and didn't have a cappuccino so writing was out of the question. I opted for some good ol' fashion poker. I ran into Anabel (the Swiss girl I met outside the hostel in Nelson) and she was enough of a deterrent to temporarily halt my poker playing. We grabbed a few drinks and headed back to the hostel around 6:30 p.m. I still had a few hours to spare so I continued with my poker session. I ended up winning roughly $20,000 over the next hour and strongly contemplated not going out for my last night in Franz-Joseph. I reasoned that I was making roughly $3,000/ hour in my current games and this profitable of a situation didn't come up often. I tried to rationalize the "life EV" of leaving to hang out with the crew and the happiness that would result from both possible scenarios. After much deliberation I decided that winning more money at poker wouldn't make me as happy as going out and having a good time. Whereas losing money would be extremely depressing knowing that I missed out at hanging out and a sure thing at a good time. Besides, Ellen and I had hit it off the last few days and it wasn't everyday I got a shot with a 27 year old Swedish doctor. Around 10 p.m, I closed up shop and headed out to meet up with everyone at the bar. I arrived a little over an hour late and immediately ordered 11 Mexican shots (tequila, salt, lime) for our entire group, both to compensate for my degeneracy and so I wouldn't have to explain to the group why I was late.

Several members in the group had never partaken in Mexican shots. I looked at them like an alien from planet Nepton but ultimately discerned that people who grow up in other countries don't need drinking games for an excuse to drink alcohol. It's innate to most. I also learned they don't have games such as beerpong, kings, questions and many other drinking games that most Americans major in perfecting throughout their college years. I showed the Swedes the nuances to efficiently taking a Mexican shot.

Ellen watched as I licked between my number and index finger and carefully poured precisely five "shakes" of salt onto the alloted area.

"I just want to say, I've had an amazing time over the past few days, and I really enjoyed meeting everyone. It wouldn't have been the same without you, and thank you for making this one of the best weeks of my life." I sincerely meant every word. It's been said, "actions speak louder than words" and I think quitting poker (especially those games) for a few drinks on the house should suffice to say I really enjoyed their company.

"You know when I come visit you, I'm going to be fluent in Swedish so you can't get away with talking about me like that. And the whole trip I'm going to pretend like I'm a little confused American and then embarrass you one day."

She laughed as we made our way outside. We continued to talk for a bit and after a while decided to head to the only other bar in town, Monsoon. Interestingly, I learned earlier that day that there were some 350 residents of Franz-Joseph, but on an average summer day, they had upwards of 6,000 tourists. Pretty amazing numbers and probably the biggest disparity between tourists and residents anywhere in the world. About half way through the night the bartender offered a free bungy jump to anyone who would get naked and dance along the bar to the next song that was played. Sure enough, an inebriated Kiwi came up dancing on the bar butt ass naked. We laughed hysterically throughout the process and I felt that it was a good example of the lifestyle in the country. Back home, one would get kicked out or perhaps even arrested for such behavior, and here it was the norm and even endorsed by the bar. As a matter of fact, one of the bars I went to had an entire wall full of pictures of those who stripped at some point throughout the night.

Swing and a miss. Oh well, at least I tried and that's more than I could say about myself in the past. I tried not to be results oriented in thinking I could have done something different.

"You can't win them all," I thought to myself as I headed back to my room. "But at least you tried." My friends and I have a saying that we use whenever something doesn't go your way. Whenever we encounter a bad beat (whether in poker or life) or an unfortunate situation we say, "Keep On Dumping" or KOD for short which holds striking resemblance to, "keep on keeping on".

The next day we were destined for Queenstown. Our group got divided because there were two buses and I wound up sitting next to Marie. I didn't know much about her before, but it turns out she is extremely down to earth and can hold a great conversation. We made plans to grab dinner later that night, and I was really looking forward to it. Ellen and Christina were stopping along the way for a night in Wanika on the 9th, and I had an overnight cruise booked the day after but we promised to meet up the in Queenstown on the 11th for my last night in the country.

The following day I was set to see Milford Sound in the Fiordland National Park. It's supposed to be New Zealand's premier tourist destination and is one of the modern marvels of the world. I arrived at the tourist desk to find I had another seven hour bus ride, thus totaling my bus time over the past week to roughly 24 hours. I was on absolute suicide watch until shortly after my first stop where I spotted two Swedish girls. I found out they were on my bus and I befriended them during our pit stop. They moved seats to sit behind me for the duration of the trip. There was still hope. We played movie trivia, told stories and learned a lot about each other over the next several hours. Upon arriving to Milford Sound, we were informed that there were two ship vessels that did the overnight cruise of the area.

"Oh God," I thought to myself. "Huge coin-flip here." The cuter of the two, and I really hit it off, I learned was an upscale nurse who didn't stay in hostels. They were the first group of young people I met in NZ that weren't staying in hostels so I brought out the arsenal. I had been very modest in the stories I told with those in the hostels because I couldn't relate to them on many levels. Most of them were waitresses and waiters at the local pubs and I specifically remember one girl telling me she ate PB&J everyday for two weeks because that's all she could afford. I didn't really know what to say, so I just said something like, "we've all been there," in an attempt to fit in. This was the first time in the two weeks that I shared some degenerate stories about living lavishly, traveling and being a poker player. As we approached Milford all I could say was, "onetime let us be on the same boat. I promise I'll lose the next 10k flip on FTP and won't complain. Okay, I'll still complain but pleaseeeeeeee!!!"

Standard. Such a sick beat. To top things off, I had my own room. Major tilt. We exchanged information and I knew I had a trip to Sweden in my near future. I have always wanted to see Sweden, now I had a little extra motivation. I headed on my boat to find it filled with 50+ year olds and I actually got paired up with three 65+ year old women at my dinner table.

I got back around 12:30, just in time to grab Mexican food with Marie. I had to head to the visitor center to get refunds for a few events that had been cancelled the week before due to weather. Marie accompanied me and as we waited for the lady to cancel the bookings, we contemplated another activity to do for the remainder of the day.

"You wanna go skydiving?" I asked Marie, half hoping she'd say no. I was deathly afraid of heights. As a matter of fact it was so bad that I began to get nauseous in the plane from Milford to Queenstown (it only held 8 people and I got to sit right next to the pilot). Every time we would hit a head wind and feel the slightest amount of turbulence, I thought the plane was going to crash. I repeatedly made him take off his headphones and assure me that we weren't going to die.

"Holy shit man, did we pass 15,000. We're so high."

"Okay," he said. "Our turn. Stick your legs out and lean forward." And just like that I was free falling. The best way to describe the feeling is imagine sticking your hand out of the car window on the freeway. It's very similar to that except its sensory overload. I found it difficult to breathe for a few seconds but other than that it was one of the biggest rushes of my life. It was a gorgeous day and we overlooked some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. I was extremely relieved when I felt a jerk and the parachute opened. We turned, moved and spun around a bit as he manipulated the handles. We watched sheep graze on the pasture, golfers swinging away, and the serene lake as it glistened in the sun. Before long, we had made it safely down and I had just did something that five hours ago I never thought I would do in my life. Best of all, I lived to tell about it.

I realized how trivial the nature of the flashy elements of my life are. After all, what was the point of having a wardrobe full of Gucci clothes? Who was I trying to impress anyway? Did I really do all of that because I wanted it? Material possessions were such a distant thought while backpacking through New Zealand and since this was the best week of my life, certainly there was something about the wasteful nature of these possessions. I really think, and this is hard to say, but it is the truth, that the need to consume is an insecurity that I have. I feel the need (and I feel its the same for anyone indulging in these flamboyant displays) to get approval from others and let them know you are successful through my clothes, car, appearance and demeanor. Mathematically, the cost differential between buying Gucci and Gap doesn't make sense. Let's say on average, per item, Gucci is 5- 10 times more expensive than Gap (a long sleeve collared shirt at Gucci runs roughly $350 and Gap is probably $35). I began to think to myself the things I want to get out of my clothes (and appearance in general for that matter; i.e. car, jewelry, etc) and alternative ways to spend the money. I came up with a few important qualities that are important (whether consciously or sub-consciously) with every purchase. What it really boils down to is that I purchase material items to impress those around me. After all, there is nothing intrinsic about a diamond that makes it desirable except that society demands it. The same can be said for many luxuries such as gold, platinum, etc (I will say that fancy cars are different in that they actually are a more efficient, enjoyable and luxurious way of travel). While they are still not what worth what you pay for them, things with practical value hold a little more weight. However, completely fruitless pursuits really should be a scarcity in my life instead of an overwhelming force.

Furthermore, the cost differential between Gucci and Gap does not equate to the results you get from owning one vs. the other. Let me explain. Since we reasoned before that Gucci is 10 times as expensive as Gap, we can convincingly argue that it does not make you 10 times cooler, or award you 10 times as many women or make you 10 times as happy. Thus resulting in a poor investment. Lastly, and most importantly, the money can be far better spent at other places that will have a far greater impact in our overall well being. After all, one trip to the mall can be the difference between a paid vacation to NZ or a few extra shirts that have a different brand name on them. When you put it that way, it seems pretty ridiculous when you look long and hard at the things you own vs. the places you've been. Surely the latter are a better way to spend your money. Let's face it, if it were cool to shop at Payless we would all shop there. However, generally, the more money you pay for something, the "cooler" it is and the better you feel about showing it off to those around you. Nobody wants to admit their Louis Vuitton wallet is in fact fake. Over the past few years, I have become more comfortable with myself and I no longer derive my happiness from the validation of others. And that's a really good feeling.

I have found several other ironies during my holiday in NZ. Previously when I traveled (save the week I spent in Gold Coast, Australia) I had always stayed in really expensive hotels. I would always ensure they had room service, a gym, pool, spa and all the amenities one would need to live in complete luxury. I would probably spend an average of $350 per night on a hotel room with maybe $100 worth of charges per day. This was the norm ever since I was 18 beginning with my trip to the Bahamas. Often times the room would exceed $500/night in places such as Monaco, Rome, Bahamas, Maui and Australia. I would simply write it off as a cost of travel. On many occasions, I would spend several weeks in a place and not meet anyone my age. I would constantly wonder why this was the case? Surely they had to be somewhere around town. I would go to expensive dinners, order expensive wine and do expensive things. I didn't understand why I wasn't having that much fun and all of my trips were very similar. It wasn't until my second experience in the hostels and an extensive conversation with Marie that it really hit me. I didn't need to spend a lot of money to have a good time. I actually found that I had ten times more fun when I stayed in the hostels and took a bus across the country, rather than staying at the Four Seasons and renting a convertible. I would meet hundreds of people my age, see amazing sights and go out every night. It was like college with no school in the most beautiful parts of the world. That's the best way to describe it, but the experiences are truly surreal. I realized that these are the best times. No amount of money could buy the experiences I've had over the past two weeks. The pictures are worth a thousand times more than the camera and for some reason, it took me a while to figure it out. I laughed at the irony of the situation. Most people spend their entire lives, saving up money to stay in fancy hotels to do fancy things, thinking that it's the only way really experience a vacation. Don't get me wrong, I'm always one for sipping Pina Coladas in Maui, and its has it's place. But for the majority of the trips, it's just not as fun (especially for someone my age). In places where there is a lot of activities to do, and sights to see (Australia, Italy, NZ, Thailand), there's no comparison. Let me tell you first hand from spending over $250,000 in travel expenses over the past three years, it just doesn't compare to what you can do for $20/ night. Ironically, it wasn't until after having enough money to afford all of these things, that I chose to stay in the hostels as opposed to hotels. I'm just glad I figured it out at an age where I can still take full advantage of my situation.

I vividly remember a conversation I had with Will and Ade in Nelson. They kept saying how they wish they had the money to do things I was able to do and how it would make their life so much easier. I laughed once again at the irony. What people don't realize is that it doesn't take a lot to have a good time. I had the freedom to go anywhere I wanted and stay wherever I wanted, yet I chose to stay in the hostels. Why? Because there is no better way to experience a country, have good times, meet fun people, and forget about your everyday problems. I came full circle and it took me over three years to realize that this was the best way to live. I feel strongly that if everyone in that hostel won the lotto, they too would realize that the best times they had were shared among their peers backpacking through the countryside. This perhaps is why many people say that college was the best years of their life. It had nothing to do with money. In fact everyone was flat broke! It's that they were living without a care in the world and living each day as if it were their last. That can be done, for $20/night. It's just a matter of prioritizing.

*

You can buy your hair if it won't grow

You can fix your nose if he says so

You can buy all the makeup

that man can make

But if you can't look inside you

Find out who am I too

Be in the position to make me feel

So damn unpretty

TLC – Unpretty

Cheers from Melbourne, Australia

~ Trah ~

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