How It All Unfolded: A Year Abroad in Australia
Submitted by: Nina
Country: UK
University: University of Manchester
Ten months ago, I stepped off a plane after 36 hours of travel, more than 10,000 miles away from home. I was alone, clutching a single suitcase and the kind of nervous excitement that only comes with doing something completely new. I found my way to a coach station, then to my university hall, my new home for the year. Nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. How much life was going to change for the better, the people I would come to know and love, and the version of myself I’d grow into along the way. When I sat on that plane, I felt a wave of anticipation I couldn’t quite name. This wasn’t just another trip. It was a move. One I wouldn’t return from for twelve whole months.
Everything felt a bit upside down at first. Not in any dramatic way, just off-kilter enough to notice. Sweets were called lollies. People didn’t ask “you alright?” unless they genuinely thought something was wrong. Dinner happened earlier, nights out started before 10, and somehow everyone seemed to wake up at sunrise like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Even the supermarkets felt like a cultural shift. Bread in the fridge. People walking around barefoot in public. I remember standing in the aisle wondering why everything familiar had a slight twist to it. Close enough to recognise, different enough to feel foreign. It wasn’t overwhelming, just quietly disorienting. Like being handed a version of life that looked almost like your own but ran on slightly different settings. Still, there was something oddly energising about it all. When everything is unfamiliar, even small things like buying a coffee feels like an event.
That first full day in Sydney still sits clearly in my mind. I remember walking through the city in a kind of quiet disbelief. The sort that comes when you’re jet lagged, slightly dazed, but also hyper-aware of every detail. Even though I’d seen pictures of the harbour before, nothing quite prepares you for seeing it in real life. The Opera House, the water, the curve of the skyline it all felt surreal. I didn’t really have a plan that day. I just walked. Watched the ferries move across the harbour. Took everything in slowly, stopping when something caught my eye, following whatever street looked interesting. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it felt big at the time. Like the world had quietly opened itself up, and I was right there in the middle of it. There was a buzz to the unknown. A kind of weightless possibility. No deadlines yet. No real routine. Just the open space of a new city and the knowledge that I had a year ahead of me to figure it all out.
Ten months on, I found myself in the middle of one of those weekends you don’t plan for, but somehow everything lands just right. Not perfect in any curated sense, just simple and full. Saturday morning, I went to yoga, got a matcha on the way home, then spent the afternoon doing not much at all. That evening, a few of us met at the pub. We played Monopoly Deal for hours. It’s one of those games that starts light and ends with someone accusing everyone else of being a liar. Afterwards, we headed out for Chinese food to celebrate a friend’s 21st. Big round table, a lazy Susan full of too much food, messy chopstick techniques. Then we went out. One of those nights where the music doesn’t matter and no one’s trying to look cool.
Sunday was slower. We went for a long walk to the Rocks market. It was one of those in-between days where nothing is rushed. I got a cinnamon donut and sat on the grass for a while, chatting. The air had that dry, crisp feel you get in an Australian autumn, but the sky stayed stubbornly blue.
I came here on exchange not really knowing what to expect. A year always sounds like a long time, until you realise how quickly it fills up. It made me think about how much has shifted. I arrived here knowing no one, with a suitcase I packed in a panic and no real sense of what I was doing. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to feel settled, or if I ever would. But somewhere in the mess of train rides, awkward first conversations, supermarket confusion, and matcha dates, life started to take shape. That weekend didn’t mark anything official. No big goodbye or milestone. But it was one of those moments where you quietly realise just how far you’ve come.
