Taking a dip in a hidden hotpool, somewhere in Iceland.
On the day I left Kuala Lumpur in October 2015, I didn’t know when I would come home. I had just turned 30 and had quit my job to see the world.
I had a working holiday visa for New Zealand, and lived there for six months, although most days I just did the “holiday” part rather than work. The money I saved from working for two months at a beautiful yet unnervingly dull lakeside resort was all spent on activities like jumping off a plane and driving around in a campervan.
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