“Have I not commanded you? Be Strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” –Joshua 1:9
A word of warning: Traveling to Australia is a looooong trip, even by plane. I left sometime early afternoon on Monday July 14th, and didn’t get to Sydney until mid afternoon Wednesday July 16th. Through the midst of it I tried in vain to keep track of my actual travel time, but lost count somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. It’s a weird feeling…crossing over ten time zones and having absolutely no clue where you stand in the space time continuum. It wasn’t until early Wednesday morning when the sun began to rise that I had my first actual reference of time. Our plane was flying due west, causing a dramatic race between plane and sun. This was my favorite part of the flight…looking out of the back window at the rising sun, watching as our plane was inevitably captured by radiant sunlight.
Due to some flight delays, I arrived in Sydney about two in the afternoon; moderately jetlagged, but severely confused. There was supposed to be a van waiting to pick me up from the airport and take me to Newcastle (3.5 hours north of Sydney), but because we were so late, I missed the van by over four hours. I was left with two options; pay $500 AU to take a cab to Newcastle, or pay $28 to take the train…I chose the train.
In the midst of my confusion at the train station, I found out just how friendly people can be. I stood with all of my bags in Central Station, desperately searching for the correct train to take to Newcastle. I was in a foreign country with no clue where to go. By this point I was tired, confused, and a little homesick. People could easily tell that I wasn’t Australian and that I was clearly lost. Rather than ignoring me though, people came up to me and gave me directions…I didn’t even have to say anything. It doesn’t seem like much, but at the time the unrequested help was like a gift from God.
After three and a half hours on the train, I finally arrived in Newcastle, but at the wrong station. I stepped out onto the platform and was greeted by nothing except the night sky. Besides me, the platform was completely empty. Saying that it was kind of eerie is a bit of an understatement. After waiting in the dark for about twenty minutes, the next train finally came.
I had made it to the correct station in Newcastle, but had no idea how to get to my apartment, or even to the University. Fortunately, I ran into an Australian named Manzel who knew exactly where the International House was. He offered to give me a lift and I gladly accepted his offer. Manzel dropped me off right outside the International House (which isn’t a house at all but rather a collection of forty some apartments). It was about nine at night by the time I walked up to the office to check in. The door was locked, but there was a guy sitting inside the office lobby reading. I came to find out that the guy’s name was Chris. Although Chris wasn’t an RA, he was more than willing to drop what he was doing to find one for me. And so, at about 9:15 pm July 16th, I had made it to Block 10 unit 1010 of the International house…My new home.
