New Zealand

I packed my life into a few bags, slung my camera over my shoulder, and left Canada without much of a plan. No job lined up, no set itinerary, no grand “reason” other than a gut feeling that it was time to go.

New Zealand had always been on my radar—something about the wide-open spaces, the mix of raw coastline and quiet mountains, the feeling that maybe time moved a little slower there. So I booked a one-way flight and didn’t think too hard about what came next.

I landed with no expectations and even less structure. Just a few essentials, a camera, and the idea that I’d figure things out on the road. And I did. Slowly. In unexpected ways. I found rhythm in small things: early morning light spilling over empty hills, ocean wind in my face, strangers-turned-friends sharing stories around a fire.

The camera became more than just a tool—it was how I learned to see this new life. How I noticed details I would’ve otherwise missed. It grounded me, gave me purpose when everything else felt uncertain.

Leaving Canada wasn’t a dramatic escape or some romantic reinvention. It was just a choice to move forward without knowing exactly where forward led. And that turned out to be enough.

Because sometimes, you don’t need a plan. Just a place that pulls you in, a camera to document it, and the courage to go when the door opens.