When I visited my sister, Laurel, while she was living in Dunedin New Zealand,studying at Otago University, we road-tripped (with a much-than-less substantial budget, might I add) around the South island. And while staying in 5 star hotels and having drinks delivered to us would have been nice- (and don’t get me wrong, if I heard myself saying this when we were eating canned corn and drinking $5 wine, I’d hit me)- my favorite memories from that trip are the two of us giggling from how gross and sweaty we both were from spooning on a twin-sized mattress or crying because of the spider that Laurel invited into our tent earlier that day that she’d forgot to mention before it started to rain outside. Had we booked a hotel in Queenstown, we would have never been able to stay with our friends of friends that invited us to their tent at Rubgy Sevens…(at which point the bouncer did a double and then triple take at our VIP passes, as we weren’t exactly dressed the type). Because when you’re at a hotel, although you don’t sleep on an air mattress, you’re definitely not asked to stay longer or greeted with open arms every morning from the most amazing and kindhearted group of people. It wasn’t about us not being able to go to a nice dinner; it was about Llana and Berry and Ant and Sarah and Bush and Sophie and the people that were so good to us…that gave us a home in a world that could have felt very far away.