Growing up in a region with vast expanses of lakes and an endless supply of damp, cool air I found myself a stranger in a new land. My already stained shoes scuffed at the red dirt as I stepped off the bus and into the unknown. I began my journey as a shy, meek, and mostly silent kid ready to take on whatever came at me. With a sharp intake of the dry, almost stale air I took in the stunning beauty of Australia’s outback. A kangaroo skittered across the horizon, its long elegant figure casting a shadow upon the surrounding landscape.
“Wow” I gasped, allowing myself to be swept away in the moment.
As a mere eleven year old I made a decision that I would go to Australia with People to People no matter the cost, my parents happily agreed, with one little snag, I was to raise the money. Let me just tell you that two fourteen hour plane tickets, two weeks of food, and sleeping accommodations was not cheap. The total came out around 6,000 dollars. This number did not daunt me. After a year of endless bake sales, hundreds of letters, four craft sales, and 168 Snowman lights handmade and sold I had reached my goal.
Upon my arrival to Sydney I was blown away by the history of the convicts and the architecture of the opera house. My cultural horizon was expanding rapidly, and it continued to expand as we paid a visit to a small elementary school in Sydney. We were all paired up with children of varying ages; I was paired with one of the youngest girls. Dressed in a simple plaid skirt and a navy cardigan, she pulled at my sleeve and meekly whispered,
“I like your plait” I immediately searched around looking for some fine china that I might have on me, but to no avail. The girl giggled quietly and then pointed to my braided hair; I smiled realizing my mistake.
“Thank you.” I politely responded. My journey continued to the Outback, away from the shiny streets of Sydney and into the wild and unexpected.
If I thought I had endured a culture shock from the simple language differentiation then I had been mistaken. We stayed at a quaint ranch where showering time was strictly two minutes and holes in the wall were a common sight. It was there that we stumbled upon a strange spectacle. A dead kangaroo appeared to be magically moving along the ground, our guide told us to look closer and on command we peered beneath. To our amazement we saw thousands of ants moving the carcass. I thought to myself I want to be an ant, to make a change that’s bigger than me and affects more than I know.
I realized that we are all ants, but what mattered was the type of ant you became. You could be a follower, or you could step up and be a leader. That group of ants was full of unbelievable individuals, but without a leader that’s all they would be, individuals, and they would not be able to accomplish the things that they do by working together.
The gravel crunched underneath the tires of the car as we pulled into my driveway. Having grown accustomed to the sharp, rugged region of Australia, I was pleasantly surprised by the lush forgiving hills of Northern Michigan. I stepped out of the car, my now mud caked shoes stood firmly, grazing the dew off of nearby blades of grass. Thousands of miles later and two weeks older, I became confident, outgoing, and self-assured. As I took in a breath of the clean moist air I looked over the underappreciated landscape of Michigan. A deer pranced through the forest, stirring up the underbrush as it glided along.
“Home” I smiled, knowing that although I had changed, this place would forever remain the same, and be a part of who I have become.
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