Hi friends

I'm Petrina, and you (in theory) subscribed to this as yet unnamed* newsletter on travel, mostly travelling in New Zealand. If you don't remember subscribing (and I wouldn't blame you, my newsletter publishing has been sporadic to say the least) or don't want to see me in your inbox, feel free to unsubscribe here.

The past few months have been a whirlwind, which seems to be becoming a semi-permanent state for me.

For an assignment which involved updating a travel guide book, I looped from Palmerston North around to Taranaki and up to Waitomo, before a brief stop home in the Coromandel and then on to the Bay of Plenty.

All of this after spending two months driving up and down the South Island.

I have spent many, many hours on the road, enough hours that I have made my way through several audio books (I loved Good Material by Dolly Alderton, and Ultra Processed People by Chris Van Tulleken).

I'm pretty tired, and I'm not yet ready to total up the amount of money I spent on petrol, but it was wonderful beyond words to become reacquainted with so much of New Zealand.

It has been more than two years since I left my last permanent home in Auckland - two years of living on the road, on the fly. It has been long enough that I am searching for somewhere to settle, and along this extended trip around New Zealand I have found myself weighing up each place.

Could I live here? Would I live here?

I asked myself that in Raglan (probably), Wanaka (no - too far from the ocean), Te Anau (no, too remote), and even Queenstown (not a chance, no way I can afford it). The only place where the answer was a simple, clear, ringing yes was in Taranaki.

For me, the perfect place exists at the nexus of mountains and sea, a collision of waves and forest where I can hike, swim, and watch sunsets every day.

Returning to Taranaki, for perhaps the fourth time now, was a reminder of how lush the landscape is. It's so green, the space between the mountain and the sea, and the coastline so dark. The waves are wild, bordering on ferocious at times, which is equally terrifying and invigorating.

I stayed at Ahu Ahu Beach Villas. If you are ever passing through New Plymouth, you should stay here too.

On arrival, owners David and Nuala welcomed me with hugs. Within minutes I was in the passenger seat of David's beat up run-around farm vehicle, bouncing across a rough paddock. Past the kumara patch, past the campground which also doubled as a music venue, past the views of the coast and the surf breaks David would head to later that afternoon, board under one arm.

As often happens in New Zealand, David and I quickly figured out we have friends in common. He and Nuala happened to meet in Pauanui, minutes from where I grew up.

But even without overlaps in people we know, I would have felt right at home.

I was invited to a sunset drink with them, which turned into dinner, which turned into sitting around with a guitar.

I spend so much time looking for perfect places and then I am reminded all of a sudden that the perfection is people. Beautiful places without the glow of good people lack any kind of friction. There's nothing to make us stick there.

Ahu Ahu Villas have exceptional views (I could watch the sunrise from bed) but the real magic of the place comes from the warmth of the owners, who built houses out of salvaged wood and the strength of dreams.

Now that I've wrapped up my guide book project, I need to sift through all of my photos and notes from the past months.

I'll publish some things to my website - mostly itineraries, I think. Other stories I might pitch to editors, although I'm not sure how interested they will be in stories of me sleeping in the back of my car in parking lots (the life of a freelance travel writer is far from glamorous, most of the time).

A final note - please feel free to reply to this email, if you would like to. I am very new to this world of independent publishing, and I truly would like to be able to write more directly for you, my readers. For now we're a small group, and I would love to know what is most enriching for you; whether you want to see informal guides to places I've visited, hear more about my travels as they happen, or get a glimpse inside the life of a nomadic travel writer.

This newsletter is something of a work in progress.

I have some idealistic notion of this being a place where I can write and make recommendations freely, away from the pressures of an editor, Google's algorithm, or the need to make money. (If you would like to know more about any of these things, let me know. I would love to share more about the mechanics of the travel content industry, if you're interested).

I'm hoping to write to you each week, but I'm also terrible at sticking to schedules, so we'll see how we go.

With love

Petrina

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• *I'm thinking about calling this newsletter Liminal. What do you think? I want to call it something that refers to the often transitional state we find ourselves in while travelling, not at home but not.. not at home either. In an in-between place that is both a higher state and often uncomfortable. A place of liminality, where we can try on different lifestyles and identities, do things we would never normally do, and step outside of our lives for a bit. Liminal.

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