When people ask what movie made me want to travel, the answer is easy. It’s The Lord of the Rings. Not because I want to dodge Orcs, get stabbed by Ringwraiths, or spend six hours hiking with a guy who hasn’t had a decent meal since the First Age. It’s because New Zealand is absolutely stunning. Every time those giant mountains, rolling green hills, and crystal-clear rivers show up on screen, I catch myself thinking, “Yep. I’d go there in a heartbeat.”

The Shire? Sign me up. Give me a little hobbit hole, a quiet afternoon, and a giant breakfast. Actually, make that three breakfasts. The scenery looks so peaceful it’s almost suspicious. It feels like one of those places where your blood pressure drops ten points the second you get there. Meanwhile, back in reality, somebody’s laying on their horn because the drive-thru line moved three feet instead of four.

Now, there are a few places from Middle-earth I’d gladly skip. Mordor looks like it has the tourism slogan, “Come for the lava. Leave with permanent psychological damage.” The Dead Marshes aren’t exactly screaming “family vacation” either. Floating ghost faces in swamp water? Hard pass. There are enough creepy places in the real world without voluntarily visiting one where the landscape itself wants you dead.

Even though I’ve never been to New Zealand, it’s still at the top of my travel list thanks to The Lord of the Rings. Some movies make you want to buy merchandise. This one makes you want to buy a plane ticket. If I ever make it there, you’ll probably find me wandering around the hills pretending I’m on my way to second breakfast. Just don’t expect me to carry the Ring. I’ve seen how that turns out.