Keeping up with Beth

I arrived in Melbourne at 9:30pm on the 10th January. I was super excited- but tired after the long 3 day trip, and ready to head to sleep. When I initially booked my accommodation for Melbourne for the first week, I’d actually booked it a half hour trip outside of the centre. Bear in mind the airport is about that far the other side of the city, so a couple of weeks before I left I realised it would be a whole lot of faff to get to that accommodation, so cut my losses and booked another airbnb a lot closer to the airport. As it happened that was definitely the best decision as this lady waited up for me, had a beautiful house and super comfy room, and it wasn’t too pricey getting a taxi there and felt way less stressful to me. I struggled sleeping- despite by exhaustion, as I had slept on the plane, and decided to just catch up with people back home, so I didn’t feel too homesick and all.

The next morning I actually had no plans except to move to my accommodation. The lady I stayed with was super lovely, and told me I had all day to leave as she had no one staying that night, and she was more than happy to help me out, giving me lifts to the shopping centre and back, and then to the train station so I could get across the city. She helped me out and had loads of advice about the city for tourists and newbies, and made me feel super comfortable and settled which was amazing!

Here is where the trouble started…

Now I’m very easily stressed in on the spot situations and like to have time to make sure I’m planned with things like this, and know exactly where I am going. I hadn’t had a chance to get my sim into my phone, so I just had to get maps up and find the route prior to leaving and not swipe it off my screen so then I wouldn’t get lost. Unfortunately I hadn’t realised I didn’t put the house number into my phone. I just had the street. When I arrived I thought ‘oh its fine’, looked on airbnb found it and thought easy, I’ll just keep walking and I’ll stumble across it.

No.

I realised about 10 mins off the bus I was walking in the wrong direction. Now I have all my stuff on my back and a bag full of groceries as I thought it was smart to buy them first- it was not.

Tip 1: buy your food once you’ve got your stuff in the room that you’re staying in for the night.

I realised I was about 50+ houses away from my destination. Brilliant. So I decided I’d walk to a bus stop in the hopes that would take me where I need to go or something. I could only go one stop which really didn’t help me. Then I decided I would just wait, I’d seen plenty of taxis drive by- I could just grab a taxi.

Nope didn’t see a taxi for ages.

I was fortunate enough, sitting on the side of the road looking lost, too hot to move and too mentally drained, that a lovely lady came by and asked if I needed a hand, where I was trying to get to. I told her the house, she typed it in and off we went this lovely lady drove me to the house I was supposedly staying at. I’d been travelling for 3 hours across the city now, and was mentally drained jut ready to sit down, calm down an settle in to my room for the week. I knocked on the door and as so ready to be welcomed inside even though I was much MUCH later than my eta.

It was the wrong house. The people were just heading out and seemed awfully confused as to what I was doing knocking on their door.

So I showed them the address, only for them to tell me I was 10 houses down the hill from where I wanted to be. DOWN THE HILL. I would have to lug my stuff up the hill 10 houses, in this new heat with all my stuff on my back. I wasn’t sure I could make that. But obviously I couldn’t ask them for a lift, especially if they were just heading out. By this point I must’ve been wearing my emotions on my face and they could tell I was done already, so I was super blessed that the father said they had enough time to stop by the house as it as that direction, so I didn’t have to walk with all my stuff.

They drove me up, and one more knock on the wrong house just down round the corner and I MADE IT! I found my home for the week and I had never been more grateful to be welcomed into a house.

They opened the door, and showed me around briefly before finally I could dump my stuff. Sit on a bed. And not have to move.

By this point it was 4 days since I had left England. I had been on the move pretty much constantly. But this was the first of many journeys around cities, and around the country by myself, lugging all my stuff trying to figure out where I go from here.

But in that moment, I realised I had a whole week, where this was entirely my room. I had this pace to myself, I didn’t have to worry about being out at a certain time or being rushed around. It was my space, I could unpack, I could leave my stuff lying around and no one could tell me I was in the way.

Even now, that feels like a foreign feeling.

That week in the house was such a huge blessing. I had so much time to myself, to settle myself in, to do my own thing and to just relax and get used to the idea; I was finally in Australia.

After months of saying that was where I was going, after 3 months of preparation and looking at plans. I had made it. I didn’t know what the trip had in store for me. I had no idea where I wanted to go, what I wanted to see. I had no idea how I was going to make friends or experience the culture of Australia. I had no idea what I was going to learn from this trip.

It was a blank slate. It was my chance to write my story and to live this crazy life I’d been pushing towards for years. This was what I had worked towards.

I had all the time in the world and the money to really experience everything I wanted to.

I couldn’t wait.