On family holidays

I am 23 years old (turning 24 this year) and my parents still take me on holidays with them.

This is a fact that many people I know find incredibly difficult to digest, just like the fact that I still live at home.

People find it weird that my family – my parents, 20-year-old sister and I – still travel and live together and have a jolly good time doing it.  We actually enjoy each other’s company (and not just short-term) and we are a corny Patridge-family-like holidaying dream team.

Take for instance the time that we all hung out on Hamilton Island, drinking way too many cocktails and lazying on the grass under setting suns.

Or the fact that we have road-tripped around Hawaii a few times in perfect harmony.

In fact, we just returned from New Zealand and the highlights of the trip included my father’s constant headstands, our collective appreciation for wine and cheeseboards, and singing along loudly in the car together as we jammed out to my sister’s playlists.

My mother and I braved the windy plains of Stonehenge together.  My father and I crawled through the Jenolan plughole caves.  As a collective family unit, we hiked Koko Head on Oahu, Hawaii.  We visited Hobbiton and ran around like excited kids.  We shopped in Harrods, climbed the Eiffel Tower, explored the ruins of Pompeii.

Looking back, most of our family holidays have taken place in my young adult life.  I have come to realise that my parents are actually pretty cool people, and my family often functions like a group of friends.  We genuinely get along and even though we may have our own preferences, we work together incredibly well – particularly when there is travel involved!

Here’s hoping we will have many more family adventures in future!

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