Four women, four unforgettable journeys. From Contiki chaos and an ill-timed concision through to solo flights, a three-month boyfriend test in the Philippines and discovering the power of community in Italy, these are the travel moments that changed everything – and shaped who we are today.
Perhaps it’s because we’re in the grips of the silly season where, amongst the stress of holiday planning and end-of-year frazzle, the Capsule team are all dreaming of upping sticks and travelling (seriously, we’re considering flagging all this next year and absconding to somewhere tropical!).
So, for Capsule’s own travel diaries – and to tide us over!? – here are the trips that changed our lives. If you’re in the travel lusting mindset too, perhaps these might inspire some 2026 planning?
The Capsule Team: L-R – Vivien Beduya; Alice Hampson; Kelly Meharg; Sarah Lang
THE TRIP THAT MADE ME, WELL, ME
Kelly Meharg (Co-Founder, Head of Commercial)
Ok, how’s this for a stereotypical ‘this trip changed my life!’ story – it was my Contiki.
A rite of passage, a Kiwi tradition – Contiki is literally a portmanteau of Continent and Tiki Tour, and was founded by a Kiwi in the 60s – my Europe jaunt through France, Italy and Spain was exactly as you think it was: many drinks, many parties, many landmark visits and many early-era Instagram filters and borders used for the photos. (But weirdly, not as many hangovers as there are now, which is a cruel reminder of the encroachment of age, isn’t it).
But that trip, and the subsequent week-long boat trip around the coast of Croatia, marked the beginning of a huge change in my life.
I never did the live-in-London OE thing, and to this day, it’s one of my biggest regrets. I chose to stay and work on my career (never mind the fact I probably would have done SO much more if I’d worked in magazines in London). But I made sure that I didn’t miss out entirely, booking a month off with my bestie to tick off the big things Europe is known for.
Before this trip, I wasn’t a very easy-going individual. In fact, I was a pain in the arse. I didn’t possess any ‘go with the flow’ mentalities, I couldn’t relax – honestly I was a stick in the mud.
But something magical happened on that trip that fundamentally changed my personality and my outlook on life. Anyone knows that when you travel, you have to yield a little to the universe. Plans will change, flights will be delayed, and you will be stuck for three hours on a bus in Barcelona because, for a hot minute, you’ll think the rogue solo traveller in your group has gotten herself kidnapped (don’t worry she turned up eventually).
You’ll see stuff that makes you want to move to France instantly (cheese markets, obvs). You’ll see stuff that makes you pine for home (literally any part of Paris that isn’t the nice middle bit). You’ll realise how tiny you are in the grand scheme of the world and be truly humbled by the fact you get to understand that.
And in those few weeks – where I met people from the four corners of the world, swam in impossibly clear Mediterranean Sea, got to walk the same streets as my French family did before we found ourselves in New Zealand, get hit on by a French waiter by the Seine (YES I KNOW IT WAS JUST FOR THE TIPS BUT LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT), do the stupid photo outside the Leaning Tower of Pisa and suffer a concussion after walking into a pole in Hvar because I was walking backwards conducting our group in a (rather good) Spice Girls medley – I became a better person.
One with a bit more of an understanding of how the world works, one that actually could, for the first time in her life, relax and go with the flow because she had to. One that found a deep, enduring love for travel and food and wine that left me hungry (and thirsty) for more.
It was my first big independent stride into the world – a little later than some, sure, but one that made me who I am today. And that is the true power of travel.
THE SOLO TRIP THAT GAVE ME INDEPENDENCE
Alice Hampson (Co-Founder, Head of Content)
I truly believe every holiday I’ve taken has changed my life in some way or another (everything from a trip to the Great Wall of China that helped me break up with a bad boyfriend, to becoming woo-woo after seeing LAVA in Hawaii, to the core memory of seeing my kids run around Disneyland – absolute heart swell), but, if I’m forced to pick, it’s the very first trip I took on my own.
There is something truly magical about travelling solo. I bloody love it. You arrive somewhere new and, well, you are just you. You’re not all those labels you are at home – the job you have, whether you’re a mum, a wife, who your friends are, where you live… It’s just you, and a wide-open calendar. The world’s your oyster! You pick your own adventure!
These trips set me up for never being afraid to jump on a plane somewhere new on my own. Which, hell, really opened doors for me in my twenties and thirties. I was never relying on what other people wanted to do – if there was a place I wanted to visit, or I had to take annual leave and no one else could get that time off, I was still jumping on a plane. I’ve taken myself on time-out holidays to Samoa and Fiji, or across the other side of the world to France and Switzerland. It’s liberating.
But what started it was my first semi alone trip when I was 18. My dad was working as a flight attendant for Air New Zealand and was working a flight up to Los Angeles, where he’d be leaving LA, and coming back three days later. For some wild reason, he let me come along with him and stay alone in LA for the three days, before he’d come back and I’d fly home with him.
I was sensible, but hell, I had a blast. I did tours by myself, made friends, navigated the city, took myself out for dinner, worked out what my favourite microwave pizza was and, well, thrived.
The next year, I tagged along on my dad’s flight to Tokyo and then spent three weeks entirely on my own in Japan before flying home alone.
Something inevitably ends up going pear-shaped when you’re travelling alone – you miss a connecting flight, come up against a language barrier, realise you’ve strayed into the wrong part of town or get completely lost (particularly as I didn’t even travel with a phone in those days!). But, you work it out. On your own. And that does wonders for your confidence and your trust in your own abilities.
I know I’ll regret saying this when our boys are teenagers, but I highly recommend doing some solo travel – even better if you can start young!
THE TRIP THAT PROVED HE WAS ‘THE ONE’
Vivien Beduya (Writer and Content Creator)
Nothing quite says baptism by fire like asking your boyfriend of three months to travel to your home country with you, and I don’t know, maybe meet your dad and childhood friends?
It’s early 2022 and I’m booking a two-month trip back to the Philippines for May 2023. It’s a personal trip to reconnect with my culture and my loved ones I haven’t seen for five years.
Two best friends are getting married in different cities a few weeks apart, so I planned to island hop between Boracay, Palawan and Siargao – internationally-acclaimed tourist spots I’ve never been to.
Towards the end of the year, I meet someone on Tinder but hold little hope. But after one date, something in my gut knew he’s the one. Three months into our relationship, asking him to come with me on the trip feels right. Normally, I wouldn’t invite a guy I just met to travel with me, especially for something so intimate, but it’s the safest I ever felt with a man. As insane as my idea sounds, he also takes a leap of faith.
We’re now five months into our relationship when we landed at the first stop: The wedding in my hometown of Cebu City. The bride being the loving, and rightfully overly-protective bestie that she is, she’s quietly sussing for Dave days. In Boracay, he passes with flying colours after they pulled an all-nighter dancing on the rooftop to watch the sunrise at a mansion about 20 of us rented.
In the surfing capital of Siargao, we drive around the island on a scooter, sing karaoke at the empty eatery beside our villa, and pet friendly street dogs at a night party on the beach (ironically, no surfing done).
Walking along the busy streets of General Luna, we got into our first argument. We took a beat and found a quiet spot on the beach, where he told me he was in this for the long haul. We end the trip with him meeting my dad, who loves Dave so much he ends up telling me to take care of him.
That trip changed my life. It solidified that I met my forever guy and I saw how easily he fit into my world. We just celebrated our three year anniversary last week – in our first home together.
But that wasn’t the only trip that’s left a mark on me. Each place I’ve travelled has shown and taught me something different. Whether it’s watching a tower of giraffes gallop in front of the Nile River in Uganda, or quietly crying in Vietnam’s War Museum, wondering if my ancestors met the same fate under the American occupation – travel has continuously shaped how I see the world.
I can’t wait to see what the next trip has in store.
THE TRIP THAT MADE ME APPRECIATE MY COMMUNITY
Sarah Lang (Features Writer)
Three years ago, my husband and son (then aged eight) and I went to the Greek island Corfu for my brother’s wedding, then to Athens and on to Italy: Venice, Florence, Rome, and the tiny village Anghiari. I had studied Classics for five years at school and uni, and Latin at school, yet had never been to Greece or Italy. When I looked out of the plane window at the coast of Italy, I thought ‘am I really here?’.
The most magical place we visited was Venice. I kept pausing to look at the gondolas slipping under the storybook arched bridges, next to orange shaded buildings that opened onto waterways not footpaths. When travelling, we get out of the most touristy areas for a day, to see people living everyday lives. Because most people in central Venice live in apartments, many spend time in miniature town squares, piazzas.
Campi are small piazzas. Campielli are even smaller piazzas. In one, I saw boys playing football, a hunchbacked elderly woman watching them with a crooked smile, and a young woman stopping to drink from an aged drinking fountain. Many people interacting in these campi and campielli seemed to know each other, stopping to talk or sitting down to soak up the sun.
We saw a lot of Jesus throughout our trip: including paintings, statues and stained-glass depictions at museums, churches and art galleries. At one point, my son said ‘I’m bored of Jesus, why don’t they tell a more interesting story’. I laughed. In Anghiari – a village that still feels medieval – I went into a church to see the stained-glass windows. I saw an old man enter, kneel in front of a statue of Jesus, pray with fervour, cross himself and leave. I thought to myself that, if I’d grown up as that man did, I’d probably be deeply religious too. I explained to my son, who was still tired of ‘seeing Jesus’, that Jesus is important to people like that man. I told Theo that his mum and dad don’t believe in God but he can believe in whatever he wants, and so can everyone else. I already knew that logically, but on this trip I felt it deeply.
I also came home with a better understanding of the importance of community. There are no campielli where I live, but I figured the next best thing was inviting some neighbours for a coffee. So that’s what we did, they returned the favour, and now we stop to say hi.