The Exchange Program Orientation Conference, held at the William Wilkin’s Gallery in the historic Department of Education Building, Bridge Street, Sydney, was a much anticipated event on my calendar. It was on the last day of the school term, which I didn’t mind at all. I would be staying in a hotel in the city but more exciting was the thought of all the new and interesting information I would gather and the like-minded people who would be heading off on their own adventures.

The excitement level rose as a representative from Awards and Recognition congratulated us on our exchanges. Later I was to discover that only four teachers were exchanging to England. What had happened? Three years before there were 30. The Canadian contingent was quite large, with about 27 going to British Colombia, Nova Scotia, Ontario and Alberta from state and private schools.
Of the assembled group of 38 teachers I found S, a special education teacher who was going to live in Wimbledon, J, a school counsellor, who was leaving in two weeks for her job in the Surrey Childrens’ Service and the only Primary School teacher, B from an Anglican College in Newcastle. Her husband was also going, having taken a year’s leave without pay from his teaching job. He hoped to pick up casual work but was not too stressed about being a house husband for a year.
The afternoon was filled with a rather confusing mixture of information on tax, finance, health, unions, travel and visas presented by representatives of various organisations. By this time I was fighting an annoying cough and sore throat so I happily agreed to my husband’s suggestion to skip drinks at the Gallipoli Club and return to my hotel room for a rest. Little did I realise that my throat infection would come back to haunt me in the months to come.
Boxing Day 2003 was unlike any other. For over a month we had been frantically preparing our house for our new guest. A single woman named Carol was exchanging her semi-detached house in Chasetown, Staffordshire for our home of nearly 30 years in the Wollongong suburbs. We would not be able to show her around as she was staying in England until after our arrival. We would meet her on her own territory.
Can you imagine taking a year’s supply of everything you might need in one suitcase weighing no more than 25 kilograms? Leaving our cleaner, Enid, to do a final vacuum, we drove to the airport in the Prado. Grabbing a trolley we headed for the check in and breathed a sigh of relief as the bags came in at 25 kg and 23.8 kg. John requested an aisle seat but the Cathay Pacific officer could do better than that. He announced we were getting a late Christmas present, an upgrade to Business Class.
Our son Cameron had parked the car and was looking after our hand luggage. We said goodbye but I had hopes that maybe he could come and join us for a few weeks. He had just been offered a job as a computer analyst with the Public Service in Canberra and would be searching for accommodation without our help. A feeling of guilt was mixed with the knowledge he was 21 and quite capable of looking after himself.
Friends had also come to see us off. After all, a year is a long time. I hadn’t let my mind dwell on that too much but I was anxious about John’s father who at 86 might not be there when we got back.
Travelling Business Class helped dispel my worries. Our personal flight attendant, Edward, was continually offering us another wine, a tempting pastry or anything else our hearts desired. The lay flat seats were a luxury and the individual, high quality TV screens gave us an almost unlimited choice of programs. It seemed no time at all before we landed in Hong Kong. After cheerful farewells to the crew we struggled off with four coats, two cameras, a laptop computer, three bottles of wine, and two heavy backpacks. It was five years since we had last been in Hong Kong so we forgot you had to catch a train to the luggage rondo. Once we found it the luggage soon appeared and we ran for the train to Kowloon. It was just about to leave but waited for us while helpful porters threw our luggage in and took our trolley. The journey gave us time to regain our breath but the next concern was that the free shuttle bus stopped at 11.00 pm and it was now 10.55 pm. The bus drivers cheered us on as we jumped onto the last bus at 11.09.
Everything had gone so well we were a little taken aback by the room at the Orchard Garden Hotel. It was clean but about twice the size of a double bed so we continually fell over each other and our luggage. The shower was adequate but I slept badly as there was a dip on my side of the bed and I was continually sliding downhill.
We had moved from Summer to Winter in a few hours. Dawn was late so we woke in the dark. We meandered through shops, buying a camera and presents, trying not to eat too much of the delicious food. As evening approached the streets were lit up for the Christmas season and carols played continuously through the loudspeakers.

The downside of travelling business class from Sydney to Hong Kong was that on the longer second leg to London we were downgraded to economy. Gone were the horizontal seats, the cheerful service and the delicious wine and food. Even the TV screens were small and scratched. I looked down below where small clusters of lights pierced the blackness. I guessed we were somewhere over the Siberian lowlands. It didn’t do to think too much about the incredible feat of flying in a small tin can way above the earth in the dark. I just trusted that everyone knew what they were doing and that I would land safely at my destination.
Such interesting detail. You wouldn’t get a Business class upgrade now. Too many platinum frequent flyers.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know. Those days are gone forever. We used to wear our best clothes hoping for an upgrade!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have always enjoyed Hong Kong stopovers. A business class upgrade was exciting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m just catching up on your challenge for this year — what an awesome experience!
And, fun fact: I’ve actually been to Wollongong! I went to Australia for 10 days in the spring of 1999 (autumn, for you) and Wollongong was my “home base” as I had a friend there who was completing a study-abroad semester at the university. So I was delighted to see that city name pop up in this post! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a good base as you can easily get to Sydney for the day for the big touristy things and yet it has the calmer atmosphere of a country town. Well it did as you wouldn’t recognise it now. There are high rise apartment blocks all over the city. You can still easily get to the beach and the bush. I live just behind the University and love it here.
LikeLike
Hari OM
Oh my, I relished this post for all sorts of familiar reasons… first, I have always asked for (and got) an upgrade at the counter when checking in (I fly Etihad) for relatively small dollars more (around $200 usually) which I consider being well worth forking out on a 24hr haul. I have only once had to fly ‘cattle’ in the past 10 years and my legs were like balloons by the end of it!!! It’s all a distant dream now, of course. I would normally be in OZ right now but a certain little bug had other plans. Sigh…
But my very first flight to OZ back in 1984 was on CP – they were great to fly with and our five days in HK was great fun.
And you’re in The Gong??!!! My very dear cousin is in Balgownie and I was tootling around there just two years back (golly what has happened since then???) She is actually a retired English/Drama/History teacher (Heathcote High), Denise Lyell. Just mentioning – it can be a very small world, no matter how far we travel!!! YAM xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
The name sounds vaguely familiar but I don’t know her (Denise). We are not far from Balgownie. So many people are seeing coincidences in this blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a long flight – so many things must have been going through your mind. Glad you got upgraded for one of the legs. Weekends In Maine
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, over nine hours for the first leg and nearly thirteen for the second. It’s a long time to sit strapped to a seat.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Loving reading this Linda, brings back so many memories of Hong Kong and the excitement of leaving your home country for a long time. Family and friends waving as the ship slowly pulled out from Australia, we cried as we left. You were so lucky getting an upgrade, I have only ever had one once, and it was from Sydney to Melbourne, no where near Sydney to Hong Kong, they did ply us with wine though.
Looking forward to reading more.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The trip to England by ship is worth recording. I might do John’s three years in “The Old Dart” next year. It’s ancient history now.
LikeLike
My family did a sabbatical 9 months in Australia I 1968. My father couldn’t tear himself away from teaching at Oxford to my mother’s disgust. We went by ship – cheaper than flying in 1968, parents, 3 children and Granny, who we left with my Uncle at Castlemaine for the duration. We lived in Bondi and I am pretty sure we drove down to Wollongong on one of our weekend excursions.
Your theme has brought it all back to me…
https://how-would-you-know.blogspot.com/2021/04/b-is-for-books-but-not-as-we-know-them.html?showComment=1617374123750
LikeLiked by 1 person
The anticipation of travel – looking forward to having that feeling again. This sets the scene well, looking forward to the arrival!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, I would never have guessed that first leg to be nine hours! Glad you got the business class for part of the trip – it does get one spoiled, though.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always so many arrangements to be made before a big trip–and for a year! I remember the six-month trip we took to India back in 1993 with our then-8-year-old son. Packing and clearing our house and finding tenants; making sure our bags weren’t overweight–that’s always stressful (especially on the way back); and lists, lists, lists of things to get done,. But then there’s that moment when you can’t do anything more; all that’s left is to get through security (not such a hassle in those days) and then sit back and relax. The big adventure has begun!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Taking an eight month old son would be another level of stress again. I suppose you just do it and hope for the best.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eight months would have been nigh-impossible! Eight years was hard enough. . . We did take a trip to England and Scotland when our son was 20 months old, but that was six weeks, not six months.
LikeLike
Sorry I misread your comment regarding age of son. I’ve just returned from an 8 km walk through Barren Grounds with the family and am lying on the bed reading all the comments and now will move on to all the blogs I’m following. Maybe I’m a bit tired.
LikeLike
I can’t imagine packing for a year… as I tended to pack heavy for an almost month long visit that I’m completing now. It’s not only my laptop I bring when we travel, it’s also my crafts. 😂 my hands are always into something at the moment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I had no time for crafts except editing videos I took at school of excursions, sports days and plays.
LikeLiked by 1 person