In this job I just do what I’m told.
However, spilling my travels to places Kiwis dream of when they are not dreaming about being able to afford beef mince again is something I have kindly declined when suggested by my editor.
A young (surprising, I know) journalist documenting adventure before dementia on a shoestring was never something I thought our community would want to read.
But it is funny what being several kilometres away from your inner sanctum for a month does to you.
So, Sara Hollyman, you're welcome.
When I travel, my philosophy is simple: do it once, do it right, and do it quickly.
My recent trip through France, Monaco, Slovenia, Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Greece, Denmark, Sweden, Malta, Vatican City and Italy was my third attempt at applying that philosophy internationally.
It is not unusual for me to spend fewer than 12 hours in a city, town, village or even an entire country, baffling colleagues, tourists and, on one occasion, a Swedish border control officer.
Coming from two islands at the bottom of the world, I believe in killing as many birds with one stone as possible. In my experience, it saves both time and money.
Once the inevitable comments about folding my arms in photos, my favourite travel souvenir, are out of the way, I am usually peppered with questions about the standout moments.
Without hesitation, Croatia makes the top six.
I visited Split, Korčula (one of the islands), and Dubrovnik.
Judging by the terracotta roofs stretching as far as the eye can see, I am picking that no homeowner has ever boasted that their house has a green roof.
The inky blue waters, Game of Thrones atmosphere, (despite the fact I have proudly never seen an episode), and Croatian black risotto complete the picture.
Southern France offered a wonderful contrast to its capital city, which in reality is mostly graffiti-covered, rubbish-ridden and drab.
Parisian flan deserves a special mention.
The sunsets of Nice, the resplendent buildings in Menton and Villefranche-sur-Mer, along with Marseille's bouillabaisse, all earn a chef's kiss.
Rome, the Amalfi Coast, Cinque Terre, Florence and the Dolomites were beautiful at every turn.
The truffle pasta, tiramisu, pistachio and hazelnut gelato, cannoli, and my only alcohol of the trip enjoyed during a Chianti Hills wine tasting and an Aperol Spritz in Bolzano, were all exceptional.
Denmark earned top marks, Sweden was super trouper, or perhaps worth the money, money, money, and Vienna, despite its 38-degree heat that nearly turned me into an apple strudel, was more impressive than other central European cities I’ve popped into such as Berlin and Prague.
When Preece hit Greece, Santorini earns an honourable mention, but Crete and Naxos were a Greek tragedy.
While my sprint through Europe is rosy, helped along by the intoxicating charm of the architecture, culture, coast, and cuisine, every move in a 12-month meticulously-planned itinerary can be tested.
A European summer is an oven, intensified by the throngs of tourists who can be frustratingly slow on the footpath - and that is just the children!
There was also a large wound inflicted on my check-in luggage, which I am convinced was caused by a careless baggage handler somewhere between Athens and Copenhagen.
But if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain, and moments like these remind you just how fortunate you are to explore this remarkable continent.
Travel is tonic for the soul.
To every young person, put down the laptop, your latte, and see this wonderful world before major commitments stack up.
As for those in their twilight years, or close to it, you absolutely deserve a taste of it too, perhaps at more of a dogtrot than a sleep-deprived sprint.
