Arrival!

Alex's first day in Dunedin

The Clocktower Building, University of Otago

February 17, 2007

Wow.  Let me tell you something about travelling halfway across the world.  Did you know that it takes a really, really long time?  The 3 legs of my flight from Seattle to Dunedin took about 20 hours all together- but when you add on layovers, airport security, and the fact I only slept for an hour on the plane, it sums up to 12 minutes short of eternity.  Crossing the International Dateline is a trip, too. Because I took off on February 13^th, and landed on February 15^th, my Valentines day never happened.  I like to think its floating around the Universe hanging out with February 29th. They would make a good couple.

            Anyway, I’ll get on to telling you all how my trip went!  I’m studying abroad with my girlfriend, Amanda, and we took the same flights to Dunedin from Seattle.  You know, I don’t really hate flying, but I wouldn’t say that I love it either. And I really wouldn’t say I love airports.  However, going through the security in Seattle was the most pleasant airport security I had ever gone through… that is, until I went through security in Auckland.  I’m so used to taking off my shoes, belt, watch, pants, etc. in American airports that when it came time to walk through the metal detector in Auckland, I almost didn’t make. It was such a simple undertaking I almost didn’t know how to do it. 

            Everything went smoothly, however, and Amanda and I made it to Dunedin without a hitch.  We flew in the Dunedin at about 9 in the morning, met up with a bunch of other international students, found our shuttle, and got rides to our new houses.  The driver dropped me off at my house on Leith street, and I waved goodbye to the shuttle.

And that’s when the 45 minutes of sleep on the plane caught up to me.  For the life of me, I could not find my house. None of the houses were marked 397a. I could see my mailbox right in front of me, and I could find 397b, but no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find 397a.

Shortly after being picked up at the airport we stopped at the University of Otago’s security office to pick up our keys and envelope containing some paperwork.  The paperwork contained a blueprint of my house for the purpose of highlighting which room I was to stay in.  So by doing some major detective-esque sleuthing I found a house in the general area of my mailbox that, while not marked with an address, roughly matched the blueprint given me.  In a fit of triumph, I threw down all my bags, (One large backpack, one large duffelbag, my school backpack, and a medium-sized bag of food for the trip), and went to unlock the door.

I couldn’t find my key.  All sorts of exasperated half-thoughts ran through my head- “What the… You can’t be serious… are you freakin’ kidding me?”  I had been given that key literally 20 minutes prior. So I checked all my pockets, my wallet, all my pockets again, then my backpack, then my duffel.  When I couldn’t find it, I gave a sigh and settled in for a good search.  10 minutes later, surrounded by piles of clothes and empty bags, I was ready to pull my hair out.  I stood up, just ready to give up/punch something. Just then the key fell out of my pocket.

I was ready to kill something.  I took another deep breath, grabbed the key, and re-packed all of my bags.  I heaved all my bags up onto my shoulders one more time, pulled out the key, and fit it into the lock.

The key wouldn’t turn.  Maybe if I turned to the right? No? How about to the left? No? To the right again?? Maybe a little harder?!? How about I kick you down you stupid door!! I hate you!

I dropped my bags and walked around the house.  I tried some windows, but they were painted shut.  I tried the back door, but it was locked and missing a key hole. I tried I went back to the front door, grabbed my bags, and stashed them behind the house.

I walked to the office where I had gotten the key and asked the clerk to help me out.  Luckily, I was only about a block away, so we walked back to my mailbox and I explained to him my problem.  I pointed at the house which had decided to become my arch-nemesis. “That’s 397a, right?”

He laughed.  “No, mate, the University doesn’t even own that one.  Yours is right there!”

He directed me around the side of 397b, to a door I had walked by several times, and fit my key into the lock. It opened smoothly, and the clerk walked back to his office chuckling to himself.

But to be fair to my ego, I’m pretty sure the devil-house had it in for me.

            I took a quick look around my new place, and checked for roommates.  No one else had moved in yet, so I threw my bags on my bed, took a quick shower, pinned a big “397A” sign on the front door, and took a stroll through campus.

            The University of Otago is beautiful.  Right now in February there is about a month left of summer, and it was a bright, sunny day.  The Leith river runs right through campus, and several of the buildings are over a century old.  Just looking at the beautiful sights around me let me forget my troubles from earlier that day.

            I think I’m going to have a good time here.