It’s been almost three months since we returned to our home in Auckland, New Zealand.  Our trip to France was life-changing, and not in a particularly comfortable way.  If it had been my first time overseas, I think this would be more understandable.  New Zealand is a small country and we are at the far end of the world.  But it wasn’t my first rodeo.

My first trip overseas was to the Philippines. I was probably about 23 years old. I had never flown before and I even remember asking Clive on the way to the airport if the parachutes were stored under each person’s seat.  “Sorry, what?  No parachutes?  So what happens if the plane crashes?….” 

The Philippines was a fantastic experience.  The people were incredibly friendly and the city of Cagayan de Oro in Mindanao provided a wonderful taste of true Filipino culture.  But by the end of the three weeks I was glad to be heading home.  Clive, who had grown up in quite an adventurous family, asked if I was interested in more travel, but for some reason I simply wasn’t.  My mind was set on babies.

The next few years brought along our amazing Heirs Number One and Two.  Our boy-joy filled life hustled along as life does and, despite not particularly seeking out adventure, a combination of overseas relatives, the boys’ sport and Clive’s work resulted in trips to several different Australian states, as well as American Samoa, Rarotonga, Thailand and China.

Through his work Clive also visited many other exciting overseas locations, and whilst always enjoying my travel experiences but being happy to return home, Clive seemed at his very best when exploring new places.  At his heart, he is an adventurer.  An adventurer who married me, his not-so-adventurous wife.

But then that wife stepped foot into France.  And simply did not want to leave.  In fact, desperately wants to go back – as in yesterday.  And not just for another four week vacation. Something has changed.

The three months since our return have been uncomfortable. They have involved a lot of thinking, talking, listening and questioning.  About our future.  About what really is most important to us.  About where our security lies.  And the uncomfortable result?  Well, I can (somewhat tentatively) say that Clive might finally have a wife who is open to living a more adventurous life.

I have continued writing during these last three months, partly as an attempt to sort through my thoughts, but also as a way of tracking this next chapter of our lives.  I think it may well be a bit more adventurous than pre-France Renie had imagined.  And I’m a wee bit excited.