An Expected Journey with Unexpected Drama…
One week ago bread and bananas tasted differently.
Of course, one week ago I was standing on the other side of the world. In fact, the journey itself stretches even further back than the 37 hour flight itinerary.
But that is all besides the point.
I am Phoebe Garrard. Already two years deep in an English and History joint-honours degree, I am spending my third year studying abroad at the University of Wellington. One week ago, I exchanged my home in the wet and windy U.K. for the wet and windy shores of New Zealand and, in my attempt to preserve all these fleeting memories, this blog will be my deposit for all the crazy, meaningful, and otherwise significant moments of my incredible year.
For my first entry I, inconveniently constrained by the linear progression of time, will recount the battle it has taken to get here…
***
HOME, UNITED KINGDOM
Anyone who has had the great idea of travelling abroad for a year (or even a semester/trimester) can probably give you graphic recounts of how procuring a visa brought them to tears on their bedroom floor. The visa headache linked arms with my worries about insurance, accommodation, flights, and finance to leave me quite overwhelmed.
This all came amid a personal crisis at home and the number of times that I decided that my plans to study abroad in New Zealand were little more than a fanciful fever dream were numerous. They had started the second I found out I had been accepted by Victoria, University of Wellington and, in all honesty, they still haven’t stopped.
Despite it all, however, I found myself approaching the day of the flights with a new knot of apprehension. I don’t know why it had only occurred to me at this late stage that choosing New Zealand for my first ever solo flight might not have been the best idea. I had spent time away from home before when I first started university, but this (obviously) was slightly different. A 37-hour flight’s difference, to be precise.
The first of my problems appeared the morning of my flight when the clasp on my suitcase decided to break. This self-glorifying piece of luggage didn’t come with something as archaic as zips. No, no, no - that would be too easy; there was to be no repairing the state-of-the-art mechanism. Instead, it was slapped with a strap and swept off to the airport. Stress tears had already been shed at this point and they joined melancholic ones at departures when I waved goodbye to my family.
***
GUANGZHOU, CHINA
Thankfully, the first leg of the journey went by smoothly (in that I was unconscious for most of it, the food was surprisingly stunning, and there was very little turbulence). No, the new problem surreptitiously grinned at me 12 hours later we landed in Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport. In particular, it was the QR code all those arriving into the country had to scan in order to fill out a health survey. Only it didn’t work…
There was to be no moving on through the airport to my connecting flight until the survey was completed and the QR code supplied did not want to work on my phone. Looking around, it didn’t appear to be working for many other foreign visitors and none of the few available staff proved willing to explain it.
This was it.
I was stuck here.
Trapped in China with no phone connection to let anyone know what was going on.
On my own, it was very tempting to panic. I still don’t fully know how I managed to get onto the survey page and can only put it down to stubborn desperation. All it took then was asking those around me and finding out that I needed to lie my way through the survey. Many panicked minutes later, after almost getting my laptop confiscated at security, I was through and awaiting the second flight to Sydney.
At this point, I feel like it would be important to note that I had been unable to connect to any form of WIFI barring a momentary connection to a kind person’s hotspot in Guangzhou airport. It was a trend that was to continue at Sydney where I was to spend my 10-hour layover. The flight into Australia was less comfortable than the first with a crying baby and a seat in front of me so close I was nigh-on kissing it for the entire way there.
But, it was nothing compared to the return of my visa woes in the land down under…
***
SYNDEY, AUSTRALIA
The 10 hours were difficult to get through. I don’t think I have ever been so jet-lagged in my life (something I can largely owe to my lack of sleep on the flight in). However, it wasn’t until an hour before my flight to New Zealand that I was called to the front desk and then politely informed that boarder force had halted my progress to New Zealand.
Great.
For all those travellers aspiring to pass through an airport in Australia, if you are intending to spend more than 8 hours in transit there, please note that you are required to have a visa. Having been there for 10 hours myself, I found myself just a scootch over the time limit. And I now wasn’t allowed to leave…
It was entirely my own fault for not checking the ticket. The officer at the desk made that very clear. She remarked that she was surprised I had made if so far without being challenged or stopped, but also said that I should have checked before I flew. My fault. Not the responsibility of the ticket-seller. Me. Least to say it did little to settle my nerves. It seemed my visa problems had returned as if bearing a deeply personal grudge.
No longer particularly tired, I waited anxiously as she made a series of calls to various people on the phone. The departure of my flight inched ever closer and frantic plans on what I was to do if I found myself stuck in Australia sprinted through my head. It was a step up from China, given that I had (at last) found a WIFI connection on my laptop here, but it was not a huge one.
Would I have to apply for an Australian visa?
How long would that take?
Would I have to book accommodation for the night?
Rebook the flight to New Zealand?
Would I be sent all the way home???
Then, as if nothing had happened, I was handed a new boarding pass and was smiled onto the final flight into New Zealand.
And I wasn’t about to complain.
***
WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND
It was midnight when we soared over the twinkling lights of Wellington city and all I could think about was what could go wrong this time. It seemed tradition at this point…
But no. I breezed through security, found my luggage all in one piece (minus the haphazard strap on the broken suitcase), and was greeted by very amicable representatives of the Wellington University international team.
One minor taxi confusion later and, naturally, the keys didn’t work to my accommodation. Standing out in the middle of the road in the middle of the night. Staring out in a daze into the cool kiwi night. Too tired to be concerned. It didn’t even sink in how amazing it was that I was finally in New Zealand.
In fact, it hasn’t really sunk in until recently and I find myself struck by odd moments of surrealism during the day - like doing the dishes looking out over a gorgeous green landscape of hills or going shopping beside the blue water harbour. I am still settling into a new rhythm after my first week and am excitedly looking forward to the year to come!
