I flew so far into the past, I ended up fifteen hours in the future.

When I left my family to go through security at the buffalo airport, the only thing going through my mind was “Why on earth am I doing this? This is the stupidest idea in the world.” It didn’t really hit me until then, I think, how much I was leaving behind. Going on this trip could change me forever; what if it changed me so much that going back home wasn’t like going home at all?

Regardless, I was too far in to turn back at that point. Fortunately, by the time my plane arrived, my excitement was mounting, and my despair receding.








This was my route:


My first flight was on the smallest plane I have ever seen. Well, maybe not ever, but that I had ever seen for public transport. I could barely walk down the aisle without my head hitting the ceiling, and it was only three seats wide. The shortness of this flight was about comparable to the shortness of the plane, and it seemed like we were arriving in Chicago only minutes after we took off.

By the time we arrived at the Chicago airport, all the doubts that had crossed my mind back in Buffalo were gone. I felt, for the first time since I decided to go, in fact, that this was undoubtedly the right choice. Where else could I possibly be meant to go with my life? What about all of the things I would miss if for some stupid reason, I did not go? I wouldn't get to swap stories at Allegany this summer, or know what it was like to go over seas. In a way, I think that the enormous size of the Chicago airport contributed to my excitement, but I had no qualms with it, whatever the cause. I must have walked half a mile to get from where I landed to where my next flight took off. Everything was new, exciting, and shiny. There was even a back massage station that I passed!

I met a girl there who was on my next flight (to Los Angeles) who was going to study abroad in Brisbane (my next stop after LA) and we chatted; it was nice to talk to someone who was in the same boat as me, and the ease with which we spoke was inspiring (especially since one of my biggest worries about going was that I would be unable to make friends).

Soon afterwards, though, I really began to feel the fact that I was running on only two hours of sleep. I tried to sleep on that 5-ish hour flight, but others were not on the same schedule as me and their awakeness prevented any sleep that I may have obtained. The LA airport was about as small as the Chicago airport was big, and my next flight, from LA to Brisbane, was as long as my first flight was short. I must admit, I don't know exactly how long that flight was (I have been too lazy to do the math), but I believe it was somewhere around thirteen hours. Thirteen grueling hours of turbulence when I tried to sleep, a person sitting next to me who inevitably elbowed me in the side every time I did manage to fall asleep, and a seat to small my ass barely fit in it. (Granted, I am a large person, but really, you'd think that the seats on international flights would be a tad bit larger, even the cheap ones!)

By the time I made it to Australia, though, it was completely worth it. After purchasing my first bit of Australian food (from a Subway in the airport- not so original), and spent most of my six hour layover sitting outside the airport. What can I say? It wasn't the greatest view, but it was warm, and the sky was blue, and I had time to venture a little ways away from the door and find some not-so-natural, yet pretty, landscaping near a parking lot.

The flight from Brisbane to Townsville was gorgeous. Looking down from a plane in the U.S. gives you a view of squared off blocks of brown, grey, and dull green. In Australia, there is nothing but emerald and the occasional winding road or river intertwining with the trees. I only wish I could have taken a picture that did it justice, but every one I tried to take dulled the colors, left the details out, and had a sheen from the window that I tried to capture it through.

By the time I made it to Townsville, I was semi-delusional from lack of sleep and somewhere between exuberantly happy and extremely depressed. (Though this picture was actually taken in Brisbane,
I was so tired that I couldn't even smile properly.)
There were probably about ten other people that came in on the same flight as me, and we made it to James Cook University, and my place of residence for the next several months, University Hall, with much more ease than I expected. So far, everything is looking good. Although exhausting, my travels were safe and, in hindsight, not so bad. I've already met quite a few people,though my current challenge is remembering their names, and have tentative plans to go out for the night. Even adjusting my sleep schedule is turning out not to be so bad.