Blog 1

July 5-7

The journey began on the 5th of July as a group of anxious and nervous students grew outside aisle 6 of the SF International airport. None of us was quite prepared or had a firm grasp on what was to come in the next couple days, so boarding the monstrous double decker 747 was really a leap of faith.

We were soon excited to hear that drinks on the flight (which would last 14 hours) were free, that’s when I was unsure whether Arcadia had ordered us an economy flight or the Wright Bros. version of the party bus. Don’t worry mom, we stopped after two…

Does anybody recall July 6th? I don’t. Didn’t happen.

Just before landing (and yes it was so uneventful I skipped the first 13 hours) I spoke with an elderly Australian man of our travel/study plans in Melbourne. I explained that we would first stay a couple nights in Sorrento, which as an American I foolishly pronounced with somewhat of a Spanish accent. He proceeded to tell me that this time of year I was likely to have “my head blown off there.” I quickly began to ponder how many Australian beer-proof dollars it would set me back to buy a glock for protection, until I realized my Nike windbreaker would do the trick. Not because it’s bulletproof, although that would be some idea, but because his expression was to describe how blustery and cold it would be there, as it is the middle of the Australian winter.

We arrived in Sydney the morning of the 7th, stopped at the duty-free shop, flew through customs and then waited over an hour to check our bags and get through security…again. However, the sight of about six American students all standing before the metal detectors in our socks proved quite amusing for the other travelers. Turns out the basics of our airport security system don’t all carry over. Oh and Qantas lost Chris’ bag. But he got it back with a $100 check a few days later. Drinks were on him that night.

Next on the agenda was a quick hour and a half flight to Melbourne, which was really just a slap in the face after the 14-hour trans-Pacific ordeal.

We stopped for lunch in St. Kilda, next to Melbourne on the bay, paid $19 for a burger and beer. “You know boys, it doesn’t play music,” said the local of the pay phone eight of us huddled around trying to figure out how to use for ten minutes.

Food is tucker. Beer is expensive.