Bay of Plenty Times reporter Kiri Gillespie helping Habitat for Humanity build a house.
It is a quiet, grey morning in Welcome Bay when, from the end of a long driveway, a burst of laughter rings out.
A group of people, paint-stained and silver-haired, are sharing jokes inside the garage of a partially-built, white weatherboard house.
The volunteers are from Habitat for Humanity - an international not-for-profit organisation that aims to eliminate poverty housing and homelessness by building homes for people in need.
Today I join them.
A man with a big brown beard in the centre of the crowd smiles at me as I approach and shakes my hand vigorously to welcome me to the "crew".
The projects require much of his time and effort so I ask Albie why he does it. "I do it for the kids. That's what keeps me going," he says.
"The parents, they might end up in whatever situation for whatever reason, but the kids, you get the chance to change their lives for the better. Nothing beats that.
"Some of them are in their 20s now. I saw one the other day. They have jobs. They are living good lives."
A quiet smile creeps through Albie's beard as he reminds himself of the role he's played to help others.
I'm asked if I've ever painted before and then put straight to work.
There are people in need. And we can help them.
Dressed in a bib apron and armed with roller and paintbrush, I begin working under the eaves of what will become a four-bedroom family home for a family in need.
I have since learned I'm no pro at painting. Despite the bib, I fail to keep my limbs, hands and hair free from paint but I'm not worried.
The coating is not bad and there's something rewarding about seeing the physical progress made.
A fellow paint-splattered woman paints alongside me.
Jenny says this is the first Habitat build she and her husband have been involved in.
They are from Canada but live in Georgia, United States, during winter. Jenny says it's how they got to hear about the trip and decided to take part.
"It was just such a good opportunity, and we haven't been to New Zealand before."
They have explored Rotorua at the weekend but are busy working on the house every other day.
As we paint, three middle-aged women through windows on my right take command of power tools inside to hoist gib panels to the ceiling.
A woman wearing make-up and gold hoop earrings yells out, "I've done it," from the top of a ladder when she whirs the last screw needed to hold the first ceiling panel up.
It's the first time Judy has used an air compressor screw gun, and she's now on a roll. Her eyes scan the ceiling panels from behind designer blue-shaded sunglasses. They are her version of safety glasses, she says later in her American drawl.
Following behind is Jan, who is in her element with power drill in hand. With sandy blonde hair pulled into pigtails and wearing a church event t-shirt, Jan confidently operates the drill to countersink the screws - making them flush with the panel.
"I do the clean-up," she jokes.
During smoko Jan says each volunteer donates money as well as time.
"Each of us do. I've paid $3000 to be here and travelled halfway around the world."
They were the first non-Maori white people to be welcomed on to the marae and sleep inside, she says.
She has wanted to come back ever since.
Jan also helped rebuild and helped feed people in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina.
The work is a far cry from her day-to-day role as general manager in a global pharmaceutical company.
Jan is one of the minority in the group who is still working in a regular job. Aside from the oral surgeon, pastor, and Habitat builder, most volunteers are retired.
The "senior citizens" smile and laugh as they dig ditches to lay the water pipes in, fill out the retaining wall with rocks, manoeuvre up and down ladders constantly, and stretch their bodies to reach tight corners.
While picking up some of the last panels from the garage I notice a sign taped to the garage door has American, Canadian, Kiwi and Maori translations for words such as "electrician" (also known as "sparky" to most Kiwis). There aren't any words under the Canadian category but it's a nice nod to the two from Canada who are the subject of plenty of light-hearted jibes through the day.
Jenny says it's because she always corrected people who assumed she and her husband were American.
The quip is one of countless others I pick up on during the day.
The banter is lighthearted and humorous and made what should have been sheer hard yakka feel effortless. I anticipated feeling knackered, especially the constant going and up and down ladders and planks. But instead I feel invigorated.
By 4.30pm a bus has arrived to take the volunteers home and it is my cue to leave.
Looking back at the house after a day's work, it is easy to see how it has transformed into something much closer to resembling a family home.