We arrived in
Christchurch
late at night.
The original plan was simple.
Pick up the campervan the next morning
and spend the night at the airport.
But once we arrived,
it became clear there was nowhere to rest.
No place to lie down.
No quiet corner.
Imo had planned to stay anyway,
but sometime after midnight,
he and Alby walked around the area near the airport,
looking for accommodation.
They returned with a decision already made.
I felt relieved.
More than I expected.
Even though I had technically “recovered”
from a brain haemorrhage,
spending a night on an airport floor
was no longer something my body could manage.
That realisation didn’t feel dramatic.
It felt practical.
The place they found was clean and quiet.
There was a bed.
There was a shower.
That was enough.
I slept deeply.
The kind of sleep that comes
when the body finally feels safe to rest.
The trip didn’t begin as planned.
Things shifted quickly.
Comfort became more important than endurance.
Before all this,
I would have pushed through.
Ignored the signs.
Told myself I could manage.
Now,
rest came first.
Not as a luxury,
but as a necessity.
That night wasn’t about strength
or resilience.
We didn’t overcome anything.
We simply chose care over strain.
And that choice mattered.
That quiet night in Christchurch
set the tone for the journey ahead.
This trip would move forward
not by pushing limits,
but by respecting them.

#Christchurch #RecoveryJourney #LivingDifferently #FamilyTravel #ChoosingRest