Two Weeks Alone at the Bottom of the World
Two weeks wandering Bluff and Invercargill alone. Museums, oysters, truck parades, and rain. What happens when you slow down enough to hear the wind.
Two weeks wandering Bluff and Invercargill alone. Museums, oysters, truck parades, and rain. What happens when you slow down enough to hear the wind.
Six-hour shifts cleaning hotel rooms in Te Anau. Shared meals with European backpackers. A vanlifer who caught trout with his bare hands. Working travel, unfiltered.
I’m already nearsighted. Deeply nearsighted. The kind where taking off my glasses turns the world into abstract impressionism. So when my vision started going blurry two years ago, I assumed my prescription needed updating. Went to the optometrist. New lenses. Same problem. Except it wasn’t consistent. Some mornings I’d wake up and everything was sharp….
Two weeks of hostel work in Greymouth: 4-hour shifts, instant coffee breakfasts, and hitchhiking to Pancake Rocks. This is what backpacker life actually looks like.
I started tracking my business finances from day one. Used a spreadsheet. Logged expenses. Felt organised. Problem wasn’t the tool. Problem was I wasn’t tracking everything. Missing the $4.99 monthly app subscription here. Forgetting to log the $100 course there. “I’ll add it later” turning into “I’ll estimate at tax time.” A spreadsheet doesn’t help…
A two-week bus journey to New Zealand’s northernmost point. Six homeschooled kids asking endless questions. A family who opened their home to strangers for no reason except wanting their children to meet the world. This is what travel looked like before the internet made everyone suspicious.
I’m not building wealth to stop working. I’m building it so I never have to work for anyone who doesn’t deserve my time. Here’s why “work freedom FIRE” is more sustainable – and happier – than traditional retirement.
We packed four people into a car with no plan and $200 budget. That two-day road trip taught me that the best travel memories cost nothing – they’re the conversations, the small-town wandering, the time spent with people who matter.
My job title hasn’t changed in ten years. I’m still a “Virtual Assistant”. But if you asked me to describe what I actually do now versus a year ago, I’d be describing two completely different careers. A year ago, I spent eight hours processing invoices. Last month, I did the same work – five years’…
No office means no one tells you when to start, when to stop, or when you’re allowed to be done. Remote work sounds like freedom until you realise you’ve spent the morning in bed avoiding the exact problem that’s still waiting for you at noon.