If you looked out your window today and saw a small blonde in a tie die shirt and baggie jeans wandering down the street you may not think much of it. Now what if she carried a a backpacking backpack, stuffed full, a pillow on one side, a rolling suitcase on the other and running shoes tied to the front? What if she also tugged a large over stuffed rolling suitcase with yet another bag attached to the top of it? Would you find that strange?
I would….
If it wasn’t me.
Strangely enough, and to my advantage, the people of Auckland, New Zealand did not seem to find it that strange at all. In fact, they took it as an opportunity to, “help a girl out.” It’s odd, my friends and family back in Pennsylvania and Missouri warned me about the people in other countries and the dangers of traveling. For my first step into a New land, New Zealand couldn’t have been an better choice. These were the nicest people I have ever met, so far at least.
My plane had arrived at Auckland International Airport at 5:20 on June the 5th. June the 4th had not really even happened for me.
Literally, the entire day had been erased. Tucked snuggly between two very “older” women from “down under” (a Kiwi and an Austarlian), in middle seating section of a large air craft, I had managed to cross the barriers of distance and time to a place and a self I had yet to know. Dozing between meals of strange airplane food in odd colorful containers, Air New Zealand had far more color and character than my earlier United Airways flight, and movies on the mini personal screen on the headrest in front of me, the 12 hour flight seemed far shorter than my earlier 5 hour one from Pittsburgh to San Francisco.
I had passed the night before in good company, but with zero sleep. Paper work, packing, and goodbyes had taken the entire day, and apart from the hour and 15 minutes of sleep in the back seat of the car as my Mom and Grandma whisked me off to the airport, I had begun my adventure in a serious state of exhaustion. In fact, after wondering around the airport and sorting though some necessary trip planning paper work in the San Francisco airport, I had hid myself on the floor in a corner, undone my pillow and blanket from the side straps of my brand new North Face back packing backpack and passed out for a good 3-4 hours.
I nice bowl of hot Thye Soup, a call to my best friend, and way too much money for what was supposed to be “free” Internet, and I was suddenly on a plane to New Zealand. Vulnerable, excited, and ready for anything. In the last hour before boarding remarkably enough, a fellow University of Missouri traveler noticed my Mizzou backpack.
“Are you a Mizzou student?” came a voice from behind me.
“Yes…,” I asked surprised.
“I am too,” said the young man behind me, “I just graduated from the journalism school and am headed to New Zealand to work and hopefully live. I studied abroad there and just had to go back.”
“I’m studying aborad there too. Through CAFNER though, a program on the South Island.”
“Well, you’ll love it! New Zealand is the greatest place on earth! The Kiwi’s are the nicest people on earth! You won’t want to come back.”
I had heard similar stories before, but meeting him was a nice confidence boost before the final commitment to the trip. Now, still vulnerable and afraid, the advice and stories told from a fellow made me more confident. I still had no idea what I was in for though. No idea at all.
“Good luck to you! Good luck in all your studying,” the elderly Kiwi women in the seat beside me. She grabbed my hands and smiled. Nice seatmate, but she was mostly deaf. I had taken her on as my temporary Grandma while we flew, and in tern she had looked out for me as well. I smiled and patted her hands before heading off the plane.
On the decent to the customs section and baggage claim, I flooded out amongst the other new arrivals, backpack on and fuzzy purple blanket hugged tight to my chest. I was so excited, yet so afraid. I felt like a little girl, alone, vulnerable, but independent. I clutched my blanket closer, firmly grasped my Dad’s passport book in my hands, the warn leather more of a comfort than anything else.
I approached customs nervously, afraid that since I still needed to get my student visa (planned to get it once in the country), they might not let me in. What would happen if I were stuck in the airport? Would they send me back? I tried not to think about it as the formidable looking customs agent scrutinized my passport.
“So you have a visa?” he asked, pulling my from my thoughts.
“Well.. umm.. I am applying for my student Visa while I’m here. I have a return ticket though for the meantime.”
“You have a return ticket.”
“Yes..”
He stamped my passport and handed it back to me. (Feww, I breathed, thankful to have made the biggest step: Access into the country.
A half hour of waiting patiently for my bags and hauling them haphazardly though the airport, I found myself smelly, tired, and phoneless, my Iphone never receiving service. I made my way to the nearest outlet, a large pole in the center of the International Flights section with a tiny counter around it. After several failed attempts, I finally got the outlet converter to work, and managed to facebook my mom and dad I had arrived safely. $10 for Internet! $10 for just an hour! Who knew free wireless was such a luxury! I suddenly felt less bad about the $1.50 I spent on coffee to access the online world from a coffee shop rather than my own home.
Parents notified. Check. Next step: change my clothes, wash my face, and try to arrange my luggage in a more suitable situation. Currently, I carried one backpack, a coat, and a blanket, while another back pack barley hung on from it’s bulk atop the rolling suitcase. I carefully toed the luggage into a vacant handicapped rest room, the regular stalls proving small enough without bags, and hid in there to reassemble my situation. A half an hour later, I emerged, fresh, slightly cleaner (or at least less smelly) with one less bag then before, and ready to face the new world ahead of me. I exchanged some money, bought a very expensive smoothie, and went out to find a bus to the Britomart centre, the Auckland City Center.
