My Arrival

“And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” ~ Meister Eckhart

A journey does not begin when the plane takes off. It begins when everything feels familiar and temporary at the same time. It is six in the morning. My suitcase is packed. I have checked my most important documents for the third time … or was it the fourth? I have lost count.

After months of preparation, it is finally time to go. My semester abroad in Canada is about to begin. Of course, a proper journey would hardly be complete if everything went exactly to plan.

An unexpected rescue in Giessen

Getting my room ready for the next tenant took longer than I expected. By the time I left my apartment, I was already running late.

With a 21.5-kilogram suitcase, a large backpack and a daypack, I set off for the train station in Giessen. And because I was going to Canada, I was also wearing a winter coat, scarf and winter boots. An excellent outfit for sprinting through town with everything I owned.

Time was getting tight. Very tight.

As I hurried through Giessen with my luggage, still half hoping I might make it and half preparing to miss my train, a woman rode past on a cargo bike. She must have noticed how desperate I looked, because she offered to take my suitcase and backpack on her bike. My rescue!

We hoisted my bags onto the cargo bike and headed for the station together: she rode, I walked alongside her. Fortunately, she was going that way anyway. She did not know me, yet she had stopped to help. A true good Samaritan at exactly the moment I needed one.

Thanks to her, I reached the station in time and could continue my trip as planned. I already had a lovely first story for my semester abroad: before I had even left Germany, a complete stranger had reminded me how much a small gesture can mean.

Thank you, Theresa!

Saying goodbye at the airport

After that slightly chaotic start, things became much calmer.

At the airport, months of preparation finally turned into movement. People arrived; others disappeared behind security. Suitcases rolled past, goodbyes unfolded everywhere, and for somebody, a new journey was beginning. My good friend Daniel had kindly come with me to the airport. One moment we were checking in my suitcase together; the next, I was standing in front of passport control. One last goodbye, a scan of my passport, and suddenly the last familiar face was behind me. That was when I knew: this was really happening.

I got talking to a German couple who had a few recommendations for Vancouver. Later, by the gate, I spoke with an Afghan student planning to study computer science for his bachelor’s degree in Canada. A Finnish student told me he was heading to Calgary, my stopover, for an internship. Three people, three different stories and three very different reasons for travelling to Canada. And there I was among them, on my way to my semester abroad.

Like the typical German traveller I am, I had arrived three and a half hours before departure. Half an hour before I could even check in my luggage. The wait at the gate passed in the blink of an … well, surprisingly quickly. Probably thanks to the excitement and all those interesting conversations. Bored while waiting? Not a chance.

Outside, planes, baggage carts and countless small routines were turning plans into an actual journey.

One last look at the busy apron. My own photo.

Before departure, Vancouver still felt more like an idea. I had no feel for its neighbourhoods or its streets, only a place on a map. There is a surprisingly large gap between reading about a place and actually flying there.

When I saw the plane in front of me, the journey became real for the first time. It was no longer about packing lists, paperwork or unfinished tasks. All I had to do was board.

And begin a new chapter of my life.

My ride to that vast country across the Atlantic. My own photo.

Some journeys start with a grand adventure. Mine began with an unexpected rescue, a great deal of luggage and a surprisingly pleasant stretch of waiting.

Six years since my last flight …

… and yet it felt familiar and completely new at once. I took my seat. After a short delay, I heard the engines roar to life. The plane began to taxi. Then the engines grew louder and louder, and we accelerated down the runway with tremendous force. My excitement grew with every second.

And then … we were in the air.

It had been six years since I last saw Frankfurt from above. Now I was on a plane again, this time bound for a country where I would live and study for the next few months. Before long, the first meal arrived. Hardly the most spectacular part of the journey, but that is why it belongs in the memory: a tray, a cramped seat and the certainty that every minute brought me closer to my destination.

For my flight to Canada, I had chicken gyros with tzatziki and a Berliner pastry. My own photo.

As we flew west, daylight seemed to go on forever. My body was, of course, absolutely delighted that the sun was still shining at two in the morning German time …

My first sunset in Canada

I arrived at my stopover in Calgary at 4 p.m. local time. Back in Germany, it was already midnight. I had been awake for about 18 hours. But hey, I was on Canadian soil for the first time! Even if it was only an airport for now, that felt pretty special.

Later, the sun lit up the apron as if it were trying a little too hard for an ordinary travel day. Dark clouds hung over the airport. Sunlight broke through them and turned everything golden for a few minutes.

I could hardly have imagined a more beautiful first arrival in Canada.

A brief moment between clouds, light and the next leg of the journey. My own photo.

Stopovers are part of travelling, too. You are no longer where you started, but you have not really arrived either. Not quite. For a while, the airport becomes a little world of its own, built entirely around moving on.

As the next plane was prepared outside, the sun sank lower. I was tired, but the excitement kept fighting back, with some help from the morning’s generous supply of caffeine. By then I had been awake for about 22 hours. At the same time, the anticipation was growing.

Only one last leg to go.

The final leg in the evening light. My own photo.

Vancouver, all lit up

Night was falling. I sat on my final flight, the one taking me to Vancouver. To the city that would become my new home for the coming months. At first there was little to see below the plane. Then the first points of light appeared.

Individual streets and houses came into view, followed by entire neighbourhoods. More and more lights appeared until a huge city stretched out beneath me. From above, Vancouver looked calm and orderly, even though down there, an ordinary evening was probably unfolding. People were coming home from work, shopping or meeting friends. And somewhere among all those lights, my own daily life would soon begin.

The first lights of Vancouver. My new home for the next few months. My own photo.

Something shifted in that moment. Vancouver was no longer just a destination on a screen or a city I had read about and located on Google Maps. It was right there below me.

After months of preparation, paperwork, questions about housing and travel plans, I was only minutes away from walking through its streets for the first time. A pretty unreal feeling, I have to say …

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just arrived in Vancouver”

Arriving does not happen in a single instant. The plane lands. The doors open. You follow signs, wait for your suitcase and try to stay awake and alert despite the exhaustion. After such a long day, much of it happened on autopilot.

Even after immigration, it did not all feel real straight away. The day had been too long and the surroundings too new. But outside waited a city that would slowly become familiar over the coming months. A city where I would study, meet new people, discover unfamiliar places and, I hoped, experience a great deal.

My first lesson from Vancouver was surprisingly simple: a big journey can end very quietly. No dramatic film cut, no perfectly timed soundtrack. Just a suitcase, countless new impressions and the feeling of finally being here. Thinking back to the start of that day makes me smile a little. That morning, I had been running through Giessen with all my luggage, worried I would not even catch my first train.

And now? Now I had actually made it to the other side of the Atlantic.

After talking with my new roommates for a while, I looked at the clock: 11:30 p.m. local time. I finally got into bed around 12:30 a.m. By then, I had been awake for about 30 hours. My body had probably given up trying to work out which time zone it was in.

There was not much time to sleep in. The next morning was my first Graduate Orientation Day at Simon Fraser University. I wanted to get to know the campus, find my way to the university and, of course, make my first new connections. With jet lag along for the ride, sleep was urgently needed. One last thought before I closed my eyes: after all those months of preparation, I was finally here.

My life in Canada could begin.