The past month or so has been solely focused on the move. We were trying to sell furniture, a house and cars. We were really blessed that the cars went relatively quickly (thanks to family), that the majority of our furniture was sold (we gave the remainder away) and that we had a prospective buyer for our house.
I got a job in New Zealand rather quickly and gave my notice in at school. Simon worked for a family business and gave in his notice and they worked out how they were going to run the business without him. We had most things planned and things worked out without a hitch.
After some horrible (really terrible) goodbyes at the airport we hopped on a plane and off we flew. We were certain about our decision and were certain that we were good to go. Until…
About 19 hours into our journey I looked at Simon and went “Okay, we’re on the plane. This is as far as I had planned and prepared for. Now what?” We found that all that we had thought of was getting to the plane and that we were totally unprepared for anything further than the plane ride.
The next few days were spent discovering just how unprepared I was for this adventure. Sure, I know that things in SA were settled and that we were good to go, but I had no clue just how strange and foreign I would feel in a country that I was supposed to call home.