Day 1, part 1

The flight from LA was pretty uneventful. We were all on central standard time, so by the time we took off, it was 1 AM and nobody had slept a wink. We only had three seats across, so Ben and I took turns sitting with them throughout. Thankfully, the man sitting next to Hank was very complimentary of their behavior; it was an amazingly pleasant flight. I'm sure that was in no small part due to everyone's fatigue.

Then we landed.

We had eight large boxes, two large suitcases, two carryon suitcases, a large duffel, backpacks, a guitar, and no stroller (as it had been lost somewhere in between Dallas and LA. Fabulous gate-checking service, American Airlines).

Getting to baggage claim was a trial in and of itself, but actually getting our haul to customs – that was no small feat. We (Hank, Abe, and I) got quite acquainted with the baggage belt while Ben took our carts to their waiting place.

Let me just say that while our journey thus far had been full of people willing and ready to help, I was blown away by the hospitality the Australian people showed us from the start. The customs people cleared an entire line for us; they shot us through as fast as they could. (We only had to repack one box – we had stupidly packed the very last things in an empty apple box, which we now know not to do.) There was a TV crew there to film customs that day, but they hadn’t yet begun and were sitting around, shooting the breeze. When they saw our conumdrum, they each grabbed a trolley and showed us where to go, taking us all the way to the taxi stop and then finding us a taxi big enough. I don’t know how we could have done it without them. Somehow, the kids managed to be in a great mood through all of this. Amazing.

Oddly, just as we arrived at the taxi stop, Ben got a page over the intercom system at the airport and abandoned the kids and me. A couple minutes later, he came back with three people in tow – his Greek aunt, her husband, and their son. It was by this time 11 AM; they had been there since 9, waiting for us. We had no idea they were going to be there. It was quite a reunion – lots of hugs and kisses. Hank was very obliging, but Abe was not quite sure what to think about being smothered by three very Greek adults whom he’d never met. As soon as they brought out the cookies, chocolate bars, and McDonald’s French fries, though, he warmed up pretty quickly.

Well, in typical Greek fashion, they wouldn’t let us do anything by ourselves – after all, we were family. So they shooed away the taxis and rented us a van. Of course, they insisted that we first come to their house for lunch. It was honestly the last thing I wanted to do after 24 hours of travel, to put on airs and be entertained, to have to make small talk and make sure my kids were behaving. But after all they had done, we couldn’t say no, so off to their house we went.

Koula and Nik have a beautiful home, very close to the airport, and it was our first exposure to a typical Melbourne garden, at least a Greek-Australian one. Lots of fruit trees – lemon, cherry, pomegranate, olive, fig, and orange – with pathways throughout, everything beautifully manicured. Abe had a blast playing soccer with Nik (who must be in his sixties) and Koula whipped up a delicious Greek salad (and BIG chunks of real feta – oh how yummy) to go with the rotisserie chicken and chips (fries – yes, more French fries) from a restaurant and we ate until we could eat no more. And still our plates kept getting filled. It was like being a missionary again. After a couple hours, the kids were fried, so we convinced the family it was time to go. We loaded up in the cars again and headed out towards the city.

Melbourne is a beautiful city. Lots of really cool architecture and statues all along the freeway, with views of the bay in between. It was a gorgeous day, and the roads were, as I have come to find out, in typical fashion – crowded. And fast. Okay, not fast by American standards as I generally drive 70+ on the interstates and the highest limit here is 100kph (62mph), but when it’s bumper-to-bumper and people are going that fast, it feels like you are tempting death. And, also in typical fashion, we hit at least fifty percent of the stoplights on red. Ben was riding in the van with his cousin, John, and Nick, who was driving our car, kept muttering in Greek, I assume about the horrible timing we were getting on the roads. And the honking! I swear people drive with their hands on the horn here. It was really kind of funny. I’m going to have to do a whole post about driving here, I think.

We first had to go to the realtor’s office to pick up the keys. It took too long; we had to sign all kinds of papers and legal documents that I’m sure would have made more sense to us after a night of heavy drinking than in our current sleepless state, but it had to be done so we’d have a place to sleep that night. Probably not the best planning on our part, but it was too late to do anything about it at that point. We left after what felt like an eternity (which is how everything felt that day) and drove for what also felt like forever. I now know that the office is literally up the street from our home, a less than ten minute drive. But it felt like we’d never get there. I was so ready to be home.

Then, we were there. Our home. Another post in and of itself. Suffice it to say that we were even more smitten in person than we were by the pictures that we had fallen in love with online. We opened the door to shining wooden floors and lots and lots of space. LOTS of space. Enough for two boys to run very fast in. Which was great, until Hank took a high-speed digger right into one of the built-in bookcases. I’ve never seen a goose egg that big form that fast.

Koula and Nick, who were by this time absolutely in Greek love with Abe and especially snuggly Hank, were beside themselves with concern. John took off to knock on the doors of neighbors we hadn’t even met yet to ask for ice. He came back from #9 with an ice pack, which Hank tearily and emphatically rejected. I suppose with that first neighborly favor, we were officially a part of the neighborhood.

A little while later, our guardian angel, the one who made it all possible to make this move without complete emotional trauma, the one we’d never even met in person showed up – Mandy. She hugged me even though I stunk like three airplanes’-worth of toil and I was just so happy to finally meet her. John, Koula, and Nik had to get back to their lives at this point, so with more kisses and hugs, we bid adieu (since I don’t know how to say goodbye in Greek) and watched them drive away. Then we just sort of stood there in shock, not knowing what to do next. That is sort of how our general mental state was for the next week. We had just freaking moved to Australia, after all.