Almost a year ago we arrived in New Zealand. The agreement was that my husband had 365 days to convince me that New Zealand was the place for us. If he did not accomplish that mission, then the deal was that I could get on a plane with my children and head back home. He could follow us if he wished, but the kids and I did not have to stay.

Well, that bloody school we sent our kids to did the trick. Yes, we have lovely friends and of course our family is great, but we have great friends and fabulous family in the States too, so that doesn’t help us make a final decision. But that school. Damn that school! It was just so wonderful that it made the decision for us.

So here we were with a decision made, but something was still missing and people that something was 1) my dad and 2) ‘Portugueseness’. Yep. Missed the old man and also felt that my kids would be missing out on a whole aspect of my culture that I alone could not pass on to them. This is where my brilliant husband comes in. He suggested we move to Portugal for a year and have one other little adventure before we FINALLY settle down. I couldn’t book the flights fast enough.

So here we are. We have moved out of our house. Everything is in storage (thank you Gran & Grandad), tickets are booked, kids are signed up for a distance learning program (fingers still crossed they’ll opt to go to the local school) but first, yes first, we are going to tour South Island, NZ. We bought a super light caravan. My friend Leanne refers to it as the ‘aluminium box’ and my friend Sarah reckons she got car sick just walking unto it. But I will remain positive and channel all the energy of the caravaners who came before us. Good times ahead!!!