We Australians tend to have a bit of romantic flair when it comes to road trips — epic drives along the Great Ocean Road, hitting the Nullarbor at dawn, or chasing the sun north in winter. So when my partner and I first dreamed of living on the road in New Zealand, we pictured vanlife in all its Insta-perfect wonder: a cosy campervan parked beside a mirror-still lake, steaming mugs in hand, soft fleece blankets and gentle mountains glowing at sunset.
What we got, dear reader, was something a tad more real. And by real, I mean condensation like a rainforest in the bunks, mechanical tantrums at ungodly hours, and an education in the fine art of eating instant noodles with grace. But — and this is the part that sticks with me — what we found under all that inconvenience was a beautifully imperfect life on wheels that taught us more about simplicity, patience, and ourselves than any five-star hotel ever could.
The Myth vs. The Magic
Like many before us, we’d fallen under vanlife’s spell: the idea that minimal possessions and maximised views equal ultimate freedom. There are legends of travellers traversing New Zealand’s gems — from Abel Tasman’s golden beaches to the alpine splendour of Lake Tekapo — all from the comfort of their DIY homes on wheels.
And yes, New Zealand is perfect for campervan travel. The country’s compact size, epic landscapes and abundance of campgrounds make it a dream destination for road-trippers.
But the reality of vanlife — especially if you’re an Aussie couple used to apartment showers and continental breakfasts — is something you only truly learn after the first couple of nights.
Lesson 1: Cold Showers Are Character Building
In those early days, we weren’t picky. A shower was a shower, right? The first time we stepped into a campsite shower block, then cranked the tap only to be assaulted by arctic bliss, we froze mid-thought.
Cold showers are a rite of passage in vanlife, particularly when you’re parked in Department of Conservation (DOC) campsites or more rustic holiday parks with minimal amenities.
What started as a shock to the system turned into a ritual: lean in, breathe deep, and let your inner Aussie surfie mantra take over. There’s an odd satisfaction in that moment when you realise you’re actually enjoying running cold water over sore muscles after a long day of mountain walks and cliffside hikes.
And somehow, that reminding-yourself-you’re-alive sensation becomes strangely addictive.
Lesson 2: Condensation — The Uninvited Roommate
One of the sharpest bumps in the vanlife learning curve was condensation. If you’ve ever slept in a tent after rain, imagine that every night, but inside your sleeping space.
New Zealand’s climate — especially in cooler months — encourages warm air inside a cosy van to meet cold glass and metal, and boom: interior fog. It’s like sleeping inside a cloud that’s slowly decaying your underwear drawer. Locals and seasoned vanlifers alike note ventilation as key, particularly in winter, to avoid that damp school locker smell.
Rule number one became: crack a window, use those roof fans religiously, and for the love of all things cosy, keep a microfiber towel handy. This isn’t just storage space filler — it’s your frontline defense against soggy socks.
Lesson 3: Mechanical Meltdowns and Midnight Maths
Romance is one thing; logistics are another.
We learned, the hard way, that vans are stubborn creatures that require negotiations similar to diplomatic peace talks. Whether we were deciphering odd dashboard warnings at midnight or trying to coax a reluctant campervan battery back to life, we had to become part-mechanics, part-optimists.
And then there was fuel. Campervan travel in New Zealand — especially when living out of your van over weeks — means you need to map out petrol stops carefully. Filling up becomes a ritual, because stations aren’t always around the next bend.
But in those moments of clanking engines and puzzled poking under the bonnet, we found humour. There was joy in shared confusion and in the tiny victory of finally getting the heater to kick in after a frosty night.
Lesson 4: Instant Noodles, Gourmet at Heart
Let’s talk food.
No van kitchen will ever compete with a fully gas-lit, ceramic-tiled apartment cookhouse. But honestly? After days of winding roads and breathtaking tracking trails, nothing hits quite like instant noodles with a few fresh greens thrown in.
Cooking in a van kitchen is a lesson in creative minimalism. Chop what you can, improvise what you can’t, and if all else fails — embrace the noodle. Little joys like a sprinkle of spice mix or a squeeze of lemon made us celebrate like we were Michelin-star chefs.
One thing we quickly learned: packing the right gear makes all the difference. Soft-shell bags and compact packing cubes keep clutter down, and a trusty set of basics — including reusable containers — makes lead-chef duties surprisingly satisfying.
JinHui CHEN
Lesson 5: Beauty in Simple Moments
This is where vanlife surprises you.
We found joy in the tiny things: the sparkle of glowworms near a DOC campsite toilet block, sunrise over a deserted beach, the silence when you park beside a lake so still it looks like glass.
We’d wake before dawn, wrap ourselves in blankets, and watch waves crash onto West Coast shorelines. We sipped tea inside our bundled-up blankets while rain pattered on the roof — and it felt right.
Apps and tools helped us navigate and find spots worth stopping for. CamperMate, for instance, became a rock-star on our phones, guiding us to campgrounds, toilets, and even potable water spots.
Lesson 6: People, Stories, and Campfire Conversations
Perhaps the most unforgettable part of all this was the people.
There were Kiwi couples who pulled up beside us at a random lookout point and shared homemade pies. There were backpackers who laughed at our condensation complaints like it was some badge of honour. There were fellow nomads, smiling over mugs of lukewarm camp coffee, trading stories.
In all those exchanges — brief as some were — we realised something essential: vanlife isn’t just about self-sufficiency; it’s a shared tale of human experiences on the open road.
Would We Do It Again?
In a heartbeat.
Yes, we swore at condensation, at cold showers, at unexpected rain. Yes, there were nights we wondered if a real bed would make us happier. But every misadventure was a reminder that perfect moments often come out of imperfect situations.
Vanlife — especially across a country as diverse and breathtaking as New Zealand — isn’t just about ticking destinations off a list. It’s about learning resilience, finding joy in simplicity, and discovering that home isn’t a place, but somewhere you build with laughter, patience, and shared bowls of noodles.
If you’re thinking of hitting Kiwi roads in a van, remember this: plan well, pack smart, and come ready to embrace every unexpected twist. What seems like discomfort at first — the cold showers, the cramped corners, the milky condensation — may soon become the very things you laugh about under a crackling fire as the Southern Alps glow on the horizon.
Because in the end? Van life isn’t perfect. And thank goodness for that.