Arrival
When I arrived in Johannesburg after two nine hour flights and a twelve hour layover, damp heat enveloped me like a hug. My hair stuck to my back, my feet hurt, and I hadn't brushed my teeth, but I'd made it to the correct continent.
As I made it to the arrivals terminal, I scanned the placards that people were holding, hoping to see WK. Just as I was starting to get nervous, I spotted a cluster of teenagers at the back of the hall with massive banner.
Introductions happened quickly, with names and countries and journey times flying around. From time to time people would repeat their names, sounding it out for other students who squinted in confusion. There were hugs and smiles, and a palpable air of excitement and nerves.
The heat was oppressive , but I had been in chilly Vancouver for months, and it felt like sinking into a warm bath. The fifty odd students piled aboard - we were so crowded for space that we had to put suitcases halfway down the aisles, and pile the back row of seats with luggage.
After about half an hour on the road, the heat was much less welcome. It has started to rain heavily, and the closed windows were steamy with humidity.
We arrived at the border after almost five hours, and everyone piled off gratefully. The seats didn't have much cushion, and my knees hit the backs of the seats, so it hadn't been a fun bus ride.
We made it across the border in under an hour. The IB2s travelling with us warned us not to expect that - some crossings took over three hours. By the time we made it back on the road, the crossing had woken everyone up, and we waited eagerly for our first sight of WK.
By this point it was dark, and the lights of Mbabane shone brightly.
"Look!" Someone pointed. A road sign pointed the way to Waterford. We slowly started winding our way up the mountain, and I wondered that the heavily loaded bus was able to handle the steep hairpin turns.
More IB2s were waiting to greet us and show us to our rooms, and we split off into our hostels. By the time I made it to bed, it was close to midnight. I could hear cicadas, and smell the damp grass outside my window. After months of waiting, I was here.
As I made it to the arrivals terminal, I scanned the placards that people were holding, hoping to see WK. Just as I was starting to get nervous, I spotted a cluster of teenagers at the back of the hall with massive banner.
Introductions happened quickly, with names and countries and journey times flying around. From time to time people would repeat their names, sounding it out for other students who squinted in confusion. There were hugs and smiles, and a palpable air of excitement and nerves.
The heat was oppressive , but I had been in chilly Vancouver for months, and it felt like sinking into a warm bath. The fifty odd students piled aboard - we were so crowded for space that we had to put suitcases halfway down the aisles, and pile the back row of seats with luggage.
After about half an hour on the road, the heat was much less welcome. It has started to rain heavily, and the closed windows were steamy with humidity.
We arrived at the border after almost five hours, and everyone piled off gratefully. The seats didn't have much cushion, and my knees hit the backs of the seats, so it hadn't been a fun bus ride.
We made it across the border in under an hour. The IB2s travelling with us warned us not to expect that - some crossings took over three hours. By the time we made it back on the road, the crossing had woken everyone up, and we waited eagerly for our first sight of WK.
By this point it was dark, and the lights of Mbabane shone brightly.
"Look!" Someone pointed. A road sign pointed the way to Waterford. We slowly started winding our way up the mountain, and I wondered that the heavily loaded bus was able to handle the steep hairpin turns.
More IB2s were waiting to greet us and show us to our rooms, and we split off into our hostels. By the time I made it to bed, it was close to midnight. I could hear cicadas, and smell the damp grass outside my window. After months of waiting, I was here.
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