I jumped out of a plane this time last week Monday - 15400 feet! Skydiving was the last thing on my bucket list and it was so much better than my wildest dreams - mostly because I was airborne over the stunningly beautiful north island NZ town of Rotorua.

I couldn't help weeping - the endless view of the pristine lakes, mountains stretching to the sea in one direction and distant volcanoes in the other was so overwhelmingly beautiful. I was extremely grateful "thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!" I told everyone. And I was very proud of myself... Also a little hungover, I must admit, from the dinner cruise the night before. A part of me wanted to throw up - but my instructor Paul had warned me that in this instance I would have to buy him a case of beer.

This experience was the icing on the cake of a minibreak, my second trip to Rotorua in six weeks, that well and truly took me out of my Bondi Valley comfort zone. After a weekend spent hooning around on a quad bike through a muddy bush track, bungee jumping above the hills at Agroventures adventure park, and immersing myself beneath a 38 degree C natural waterfall... I had both regained touch with my inner child, and hardened up buttercup. I was ready to take on the big smoke, nay, conquer the world! Or so I thought.

But as I sat on the train amid commuters on Tuesday night on my way home from the airport I realised that my urbanised heart had also melted in the hot springs of Rotorua, and my survival barriers had come down. It is a very, very special place indeed - I have fallen in love with Rotorua. Perhaps it was that moment after the Maori cultural dinner when I sat, bottom warm on a volcanically heated rock, watching enormous curtains of white steam jet skyward and listening to a (very easy on the eye) Maori baritone sang a beautiful lullaby in his native tongue. My breath was taken away. Rotorua is exquisite... and surreal.

NZ is not, I now concede, a part of Australia. It is indeed a foreign country. But Rotorua is now a three hour direct flight from Sydney, with airfares via Air New Zealand (check out their wicked Bare Essentials safety vid - yep it's bodypaint. Choice bru) for around the same price as a trip to Brisvegas or Melbourne. It's so easy. Why, just 10 hours prior to that commute home in Sydney peak hour I was jet boating over the glassy Lake Rotorua hearing Maori legends of swimming princesses and flute playing lovers and priests who's heads were crushed and arm bones used to make said flutes...

Getting through customs with your duty free only takes a split second, our dollar is strong, and everything is squished up together so you can submerge yourself in a thermal spa, race a luge down a mountain and learn the Haka before dinner ... all in one evening. Best of all, there are no queues or crowds.

And upon reflection...

Jumping out of that plane into the deep blue sky changed my life. While in reality I landed on my bum, let’s just say that I landed on my feet. After a years of fending off guilt over my insatiable wanderlust and lack of nuclear family and mortgage, I now realise I was dead bloody right! There’s no way of ever understanding or appreciating the depth of the beauty of the world unless you get out there and see it - as much of it as possible, from every possible angle… that’s the whole point of life. I want to tell everyone in Australia to bugger the Joneses and go and TRAVEL! And I don’t mean escape. I mean experience life. Devote yourself to the exploration of every interesting nook and cranny in your town, your state, your country. Try every activity within your physical capabilities – and push yourself. Harden up, buttercup! Eat everything, drink everything… and do not stop until you can explore no more. The world is full of wonderful surprises and people living lives beyond your wildest dreams, but you have to get off your backside and take a leap of faith to find them.