We Went to a Land Down Under

The drama with obtaining my Australian visa was worth it. More than I could ever have thought possible. What, for me, was meant to be a little break from the rush of teaching children and generally being an adult in Korea turned into one of the greatest moments of familial bonding that I’ve had in many years. We laughed. We cried (in happiness). We drank more consistently than I’ve drunk in a long time. And every moment was pure happiness and contentment. I could not have asked for more from a holiday.

After our less-than-ideal travel to the wonderful, bureaucratic country that is Australia, Kris and I greeted the James family, my relatives. We briefly discussed the inconveniences that had plagued us along the way, Australian border protection, and general pleasantries, before we went to bed. The next day meant the arrival of my mother, father, and brother from South Africa and belated Christmas on Boxing Day. I couldn’t wait, but I slept like a baby hopped up on sleeping pills out of relief at arriving safely.

The moment I had been waiting for for many months approached rapidly. We drove to the airport (back so soon after it all) and waited for my immediate family to arrive. While we waited, we entertained ourselves by people-watching the rest of the inhabitants o the airport at that point in time. One young girl in particular struck our attention. She was clearly an enamoured young lass, holding a sign that read something along the lines of ‘Paulo ❤ Anita; I cannot survive another day without you.’ The sincerity of her placard and her clearly eager face intrigued us. We wondered if the mythical Paulo would ever show up. We were so fixed on Paulo and Anita’s love story that we simply shrugged off my own family’s arrival, staying in the airport to wait and see if Paulo would arrive. He did. They kissed. It was cute, and then a little gross. We left. That moment of intense emotion felt by others has managed to stay clear in my head, even when the host of my own happy memories from the following days blurred together. Funny how that works, really.

The all-too-short time we spent in Australia was filled with more happy moments of bonding with both my immediate family and the James family. Here is a shot of us all, enjoying the aforementioned belated Christmas dinner.10349004_1783335058560857_5840000451346484942_n

We ate. We drank. We went on a trip down to the boonies in the Southern part of Western Australia. There, we drank wine, jumped off of jetties, and looked for kangaroos.

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That poor rental bus.

For some context, I have met the James family in person only twice before. Both times have been in South Africa. Between their two visits, we have kept in contact and banter through Facebook. I would not have considered myself to be too close to them before the trip. After the trip, however, they rank amongst my closest friends, and we have all agreed to try and remain in much better contact going forward.

Oh, and we did finally meet kangaroos. Kristen was braver than I was. And more smooth.

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While it was a refreshing to bond with the James family, some of my favourite moments were those brief periods of time I was able to spend with my mother, brother, and father by themselves. Whether it was talking to my brother about his plans for his current studies and plans for the future, talking with my mother about the rest of the South African family, or discussing my father’s work life, I treasured each second of personal time with these three people that I have known for my entire life (or, in the case of my brother, four years short of my entire life). I miss many people, but none more than them.

I could spend thousands upon thousands of words describing every moment and experience we shared. I could ramble about listening to awful Australian rap as New Year’s approached. I could rave about Australia, and how I now understand why so many South Africans choose to move there. Most of the time, I feel like words are at least equal to pictures in their ability to capture the experiences of my life. For my trip to Australia, I am not nearly a good enough writer to depict how blissful, joyous, raucous, and simply fun it was to be with those I call family. For now, I leave you with one picture, taken at a craft beer house, and a new horcrux of happiness for me. This is what happiness looks like. This is how I spent my entire break feeling. These are the some of the indescribable people I spent it with. I hope that all of you lovely readers are lucky enough to experience joy as pure as this. 10295481_10153743746709360_142213118836155018_o

‘Sir, You Have No Visa.’

The Australian Immigration Department had a very bizarre and frustrating Christmas gift ready for me at Incheon airport. One moment, I was standing in the queue to check in my baggage, blissfully going about the normal procedure of checking in baggage for a trip to Australia. The next, I was told that I did not have a visa, and would not be able to go on the holiday that I have been looking forward to for months.

The day started off as expected, with checking packing and riding to Incheon with plenty of time to spare. We even saw an Ultimate friend at the airport, which helped to brighten the early part of the day. We chatted briefly. We bid each other farewell. And then we walked to the check-in queue, unaware of the moments of distress that lay ahead.

When the check-in process took longer than expected, I became uneasy. I knew that something was wrong. We had completed the application process perfectly – what could be wrong? Had over a month of application been in vain? The lady
smiled weakly and said: ‘Sir, you have no visa for Australia.’

We frantically searched through our emails, seeking the visa confirmation that we had received from the consulate. Finding it, we discovered that the visa number on the application and the visa number on my passport did not match. I didn’t have a visa for Australia after all. Kristen and I were perplexed as to how this could happen. We had submitted so many forms in the extensive, more than one-month-long process of getting the visa that it seemed illogical that something could still be wrong. Surely these kind of things had to be checked and re-checked before they could be approved? Surely someone had confirmed that the visa number matched the passport number of the person applying for the visa? Apparently not. Apparently it is possible that, even with the innumerable checks and balances in the system, a person can enter the final two digits of a visa incorrectly.

The staff at the Garuda Indonesia desk looked far more calm than I did in the situation. While I was suffering a bout of raging at the system, they were calmly calling the Australian immigration to see if the problem could be rectified. They were put on hold for a long time. The very kind manager reassured me that were still on the line. Ten agonising minutes later, he walked up to us with a smile on his face and said that the visa number was being changed. The crisis was over almost as quickly as it had began. I could breathe again.

From that point, everything seemed to go smoothly and quickly. The usual inconveniences of air travel were like welcome friends. I smiled while standing in customs lines, because I knew that we were getting onto the plane afterwards. Even getting moderately lost in Bali airport was pleasant enough, because we were only a few hours away from our destination and my family.

The final hurdle was clearing the infamous Australian border. I have watched more episodes of ‘Border Security’ than I would like to admit. Each one swirled through my head as we stood in the queue for Immigration. I was expecting stern, unwelcoming faces to meet me and question every small aspect of my trip. What greeted me were smiling, kind people welcoming me into their country. Before I knew it, we were in the car, on the way to the family house.

With a day’s distance, it is easy to see that there is always a solution. When you have been told that your vital document is incorrect, it is easy to fall into despair and frustration, as I did. However, the airport staff have likely seen it all before. Have faith. You could still get there. Merry Belated Christmas, everyone!