Until Tomorrow...

In less than 10 hours I will be flying away from Sydney and into my big adventure.

As I fly away I will be leaving my home of 18 years, my friends, my pets, the beach. I’ll be exchanging nasally accents, cuddly Koalas and Vegemite for Southern drawls, hungry bears and Poptarts. (Don’t worry guys; I have Vegemite stashed in my suitcase!)

The lead up to this moment has been enormous. Initial application to Robertson, short listing, interview, selection, SATs, Visa, bookings, organisation, packing, farewells, more packing...

I have to admit it all feels a little surreal. My bags are finally packed, my room looks quite bare, I’ve said goodbye to my friends and have squeezed my entire life into some bulging pieces of luggage. The next time I sleep in my room, it will be for a holiday, not a part of my everyday life. The next time I speak to my friends, it will be from the other side of the world. The next time I live in Australia, I will be 22 and a university graduate.

Yes, I am a little nervous, and a little sad to be leaving all that is dear to me here. My excitement, however, my sheer joy at having this opportunity dissipates any qualms I might have. I am going to have the most amazing four years of my young life, with memories that will last me forever.

And that all starts tomorrow.

After the 22 hour flights (yay :l )my first stop is New York City, and I am beyond excited! Having never been to NY (or even America for that matter) seeing the bustling streets and bright lights of the, “city that never sleeps”, has always been an aspiration. New York hotdogs, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, the Empire State Building, Greenwich village and humid weather await me!

Then to Durham for a very brief reconnaissance mission and onto the Carolina coast. Wilmington, Wrightsville and Southport are to be explored, with Southern cooking, shrimp and crab specialties to be devoured.

Upon my return from sand and surf I venture off to my Robertson NOLS camp. Gives me a chance to meet everyone, do some rafting and leadership training and ask dumb tourist questions (“Are there bears and will they eat me?”) before beginning move-in and O week!

It is only apt to begin such a life changing time, with an incredibly memorable first few weeks.

The Aussie girl is moving, moving forwards...to what hopes to be an incredibly exhilarating future. 

The Fabulous Farewell!

A party run by the Marays, is never a subdued affair. A party run by the Marays always gives birth to colourful stories. A party run by the Marays is creative, crazy and complete with fabulous costumes.

For those of you who have experienced a Maray party, you’ll know exactly what I mean. For those who haven’t...well I can only try and help you visualise.

My parents decided many months ago that my farewell was not merely to be a party, but an event. As the time to my departure drew closer the local underground bar and disco room was booked, DJ was hired and food platters were painstakingly chosen. Most people would have stopped there. But oh no, not the Maray parents!

The party was christened with a U.S.A theme and from there Mumma Maray went wild! Trawling through hundreds of websites and two dollar shops to find the ULTIMATE party decorations, she plotted gleefully. Hanging Hollywood director’s boards, OSCAR statues, American flag banners, mini hot dog and hamburger lollies, goodbye and congratulations banners, American flag toothpicks, tablecloths and giant American dollar notes filled the room! The bartab? To be ticketed with fake American bills.

Then the games started coming out! Shoot the mini basketball, make an Ass of a particular past political leader (aka pin the tail on the donkey) and Dad’s wooden creation, throw the quoits onto the Texan bull’s horns, were all added to the night’s agenda.

Throw the quoits on the Texan Bull!

Now, it wouldn’t be a Maray party without a compulsory costume theme. I had ordered a Glee Cheerleader’s outfit two weeks in advance but it just didn’t make the cut. Dad was to be Uncle Sam, and Mum a cowgirl but what about me? Time was ticking and I just couldn’t find anything I loved until Mum came to me with a vision. Swathed in verdigris coloured fabric, a crown upon my head and a eternal flame in my hand...I was to be the Statue of Liberty!

Great idea in theory: Uncle Sam, Cowgirl, Statue of Liberty. Except our "express post", wasn’t so express. We were feverishly tracking our shipment which arrived in the dying hours of Friday afternoon.  

Come Saturday Dad was in the kitchen crafting éclair "hot dogs", macaron "hamburgers" and a succulent red velvet cake decorated as the American flag (accompanying Mum's pumpkin pie!).

Sweetly American

Night fell: Mum grabbed her pistol, Dad stuck on his beard and I lit my torch. 

We were ready.

Despite my entry (tripping on my gown and falling into the room) - the party was a hit!

 Everyone went to an effort with their costume, and American Indians, Superheros, Hot Dogs, Cheerleaders and Baseball players mingled throughout the night. I’m embarrassed to say we thew ourselves with country gusto into “Cotton-eyed Joe" not once... but three times. My parents both gave beautiful speeches and I did my best too (though emotions were running a little high at this point). After cutting the American flag cake and pumpkin pie, the night raged on.

As the last notes of “Party in the U.S.A” died down, I thought about all the wonderful people who had come to celebrate and wish me well as I prepare to leave the “Land Down-Under”. Whilst America is to be my new adventure and my new life I know I’ll always still call Australia home.

Visa!!!

Today’s post contained my Australian Passport with a significant addition: a brand new U.S Visa!

I had sat my interview at the Consulate only on Thursday, and had my application approved. The waiting room was filled with people like me, anxiously hoping nothing would be wrong with their reams of paperwork. I had dressed in job interview attire like many candidates, though of course there was “that” Australian wandering around the U.S Consulate in Crocs *sigh*.

(Ready for my Interview!)

Luckily I had somehow managed to correctly fill all my paperwork, and remember what was what! I paid my issuance fee and got sent on my way to await this exciting delivery! 

Now that I have my Visa in hand, everything feels much more official, much more real. With only 16 days left until the big move I am beyond excited! I want to explore the country that is to be my home for the next four years, I want to to meet my roommate and be called Ma’am, I want to commence my orientation activities and classes. I’m ready to go! 

However, the fact that I’m venturing into this enormous chapter without seeing and talking to my parents everyday is something that I’m very conscious of. The only people who would be just as excited, and get as much out of my experience as me, would be them! I’m so lucky to have parents who have taught me to be up for everything, to seize every opportunity and who have given me space to make my own decisions, mistakes and success.But I’m not leaving them behind, not just yet! I’m delighted that they will be showing me the sights of New York and North Carolina, helping lug my worldly possessions across the globe and experiencing orientation and my first taste of Duke with me.

Amazing times like these are best shared, and there is no doubt that my parents will enthusiastically and wholeheartedly share in everything with me, whether they be visiting in North Carolina or 15516 kilometres away in Sydney.As for now, as Dumbledore would say "Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Paperwork, Paperwork, Paperwork

With great possibility comes... a great deal of paperwork.

There is nothing quite like moving overseas to fill your desk with reams of paperwork needed to be filled out (immediately in my case, given my late acceptance). Luckily for me I've always been one of those people who loves paperwork and organising (yet still proudly sports a floordrobe!)

For the next few weeks my days would be filled with chasing forms, remembering to put the date backwards, staying up late in order to receive advice from Duke, being stabbed by numerous needles, creating and remembering my Duke ID, Student ID, NetID, Visa Application and form numbers, sending and receiving express mail, figuring out what courses I wanted to do this semester, working to save as much as I could, visualising my life possessions fitting into my suitcase and of course buying a toy Koala to be my dorm mascot.

Phew!

Finally, finally after many hours and lots of help from numerous people at Duke things started coming together. I was lucky enough to get the opportunity to meet the two other Australian scholars, Jacob and Nick as well as their families. Over an Australian BBQ (but of course!) we got to find out a little about each other and share information and questions about the big move. Nick’s parents had already been exceedingly helpful, assisting me with Visa applications etc through email before this meeting. Nick, Jacob and I pondered the possibility of Australian-Themed dorm rooms, debated whether our accents were distinctive enough and discussed how we’d fare so far away from home. It will be really nice to share this experience with two other Aussies.

As for now, I’m down to my final few weeks in Sydney (provided that there is no problem with my visa!)
This gives me: time with friends and family, time to pack and time to re-organise my entire life... so that I can start my new one!

The Big Day

After my intense crash course, many sleepless nights of fitful dreams the day of the SAT’s came. I had clutched to me an army of pencils and two calculators. (I had laughed at the College Board’s statement “Every question in the mathematics portion of the SAT can be solved without a calculator”.)

 At that point I valued my calculator as much as my life.

There were bubbles filled, some Maths questions skipped, grammar errors identified and a few unusual comprehension texts read. After a long Saturday morning (just to add insult to injury!) I fled to anxiously await my results.

I filled my days with friends, work and my introduction to Game of Thrones...and as result day came closer an interesting thing happened. I could start to see myself at Duke, as a Robbie, again. The picture I had conjured up all that time ago was coming back, no matter if I tried to shield myself from it. I would get flashes of excitement and dream about Southern accents and summer programs. I was still incredibly nervous but there was definitely a shift towards greater hope.

I was sitting home alone, watching “My Week With Marilyn” mindlessly refreshing the SAT page, two hours too early when suddenly my results popped up! A huge jolt ran through me, first of fear and then relief when I realised that they were pretty good. I rang Mum and Dad and we allowed ourselves to get a bit excited. I was still very nervous though – would my marks be good enough for Duke?

I had settled in for at least another’s day of anxious waiting when within an hour (I think sensing my concern) admissions responded!

I was in!!!

The ecstasy and emotions made me feel like I had won the scholarship all over again! Once more I got to make momentous phone calls to loved ones, and though they were sad to see me go, they shared in my genuine delight.

Too keyed up to sleep I then trawled through the entire Trinity Blue Book, looked at Duke on Google Maps, listened to “Party in the U.S.A” on repeat (tragic I know) and collapsed into a contented sleep like no other.

It was really happening – in just over a month I would start on my life’s greatest journey so far. 

I couldn't wait!

SAT Crash Course

I decided (after panicking) that there was absolutely no way I was going to let Maths ruin my life, take away the greatest opportunity I had ever gotten.

With limited time I set to work with a patient tutor and the SAT Bible – the Blue Book.

Algebra, Pythagoras Theorem Ratios, Inequalities and Quadratic equations were all tackled with a determination that my high school maths teachers never saw.

It was game on.

But it wasn't just the Maths... grammar is so rarely and superficially taught in Australian schools that the SAT grammar section was no picnic. Dangling modifiers, subject-verb agreement, parallelisms and illogical comparisons soon had to become familiar to me. (I also was to develop as an expert No. 2 pencil wielder).

To be honest, I was really stressed.
My life had gone from “When I go to America” to “If I go to America”. I would get so frustrated when people told me it was still “when”. They didn't understand, I had to embrace the possibility I mightn't go or it would hurt that much more if that nightmare became a reality.

I felt like I was a Donkey who had been allowed the carrot, only to have it stolen after a bite. It dangled on its string oh so temptingly in front of my face.


I wanted it back.

Some time later...

What an enormous gap, and a chaotic few months to fill it!

I had left off my last post asking “What’s the next step?”...the next step was in fact the SAT’s.


There are some things you think you’ll never do again...sitting end of high school standardised tests would most definitely be one. When I bounced out of my final HSC exam like an excited Tigger last November I never dreamed that, in a few months I would be back, sitting more tests, worrying about results that would determine my future. But, with the discovery and attainment of the Robertson scholarship my ATAR became obsolete and my SAT marks everything.

Now the SATs were merely to confirm my place at Duke, and I’m sure most Robertson’s would just breeze through them. Unfortunately for me I have been blessed with an outstanding mathematical...ineptitude (I blame Mum). I had dropped the vicious subject the moment I could, at the end of Year Ten in Australia.

I sat, horrified at the computer in France, envisaging my scholarship vanishing before my eyes. I suddenly vividly recalled a scene from about two and a half years ago. That day had been my last ever lesson of Maths. It had just turned dark outside, my puppy Rufus was at my heels as I dumped reams of paper, text and exercise books on the pavement. Mum nodded at me, “Do it”, she said. As I lit the pile I felt a sense of overwhelming exhilaration as I watched the flames lick. Mathematical formulas, equations and exercises were never to be encountered again...or so I had thought.


My bonfire didn’t seem so finite now.