Campervan

I'm writing on our second evening in the campervan. The kids and Rob are outside. We pulled into a holiday camp a few meters from the beach in a huge grassy area surrounded by tropical forest. It's occupied largely by a school group of ten year olds and parents. They welcomed our kids into the fold with a game of rugby. They are now all outside playing flashlight tag. The dads are dairy framers and have invited us to visit their dairy farm on the way to Raglan. These guys are the nicest people in the world.

Before pulling into the holiday park, I was debating with Rob whether to "freedom camp," meaning pull over somewhere on our own, which I wanted to do because I was feeling frugal, or pull into a holiday park for $50, where they have communal areas of kitchens, showers and bbq's, which is what Rob wanted to do. It's more luxurious, though we are self contained with all of the above, except the BBQ.

Had we freedom camped, we would not have met new friends, learned rugby, or been invited anywhere. I am learning there are more ways to open to this experience than I had imagined.