I hugged my parents goodbye, tightly squeezing them as I wished them a Merry Christmas. I gripped my United States passport in one hand, and my bag in the other as I passed through security alone, catching one last glimpse of my parents waving farewell. Not once have I spent the holiday season separated from my family. Understandably, I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach as I sat down on the plane, the first of three flights I would take to reach my final destination: Melbourne, Australia.

After months of countless FaceTime calls and texts, it was torture not being able to see my foreign exchange student, Alisha Centrone, in person. I begged my parents to let me return, working extra hours to demonstrate how serious I was about paying for my ticket. Unexpectedly, my wish was granted when Centrone invited me to spend Christmas with her and her family.

Christmas time is summer time in Australia, with natives swimming in pools or basking beside beaches on Christmas Day. Contrastingly, I am accustomed to piles of snow, fuzzy sweaters and steaming hot chocolate this time of year. Besides the weather and location, it felt like any other Christmas to me. We exchanged gifts around the tree and ate lunch with her massive, welcoming Italian family. There was enough pasta to feed a country. I felt like another member of their family despite being a guest.

Most of my three-week-long trip was spent at their beach house in Rye. The 90 degree weather meant layers of sunscreen as well as days spent in the clear, brilliantly blue water of the ocean. I attempted paddleboarding, my legs wobbling as I stood, and I only toppled off once after losing my balance. We also took the boat out to go tubing, moving relatively slow since both Centrone and I are terrified of getting whipped off. We boated to “seal island” where wild seals are known to rest on a wooden landing. Seeing them was surreal, never having gotten the opportunity to view them in the wild before.

Swimming in the ocean began to feel routine as each day passed. The waves were larger than life and Centrone had to guide me through the difficult task of diving under them. She swam like a fish while I looked like an uncoordinated, desperate dog. These waves are powerful enough to send people tumbling, and can pull a swimmer out into the ocean up to 160 feet. It was liberating to dive under, touch the sand and resurface safely on the other side.

We also went cliff jumping and my severe fear of heights did not prevent me from doing so. My stomach dropped as I stared down at the water from the top of the cliffside. The wind was whipping my hair and I felt higher than I actually was. Centrone and the rest of our friends had to count down to encourage me to jump. When I leaped, the feeling of worry I had instantly fled, and I splashed into the water with a grin plastered on my face. I went a second time and discovered that hoisting myself up the rocks with bare hands and feet was much more challenging than the jump itself. I had conquered my fear and it was one of my favorite memories from the trip.  

However, the greatest part of my trip was not sitting on the beach at sunset, exploring rock pools or cliff jumping, but rather making new friendships and getting to spend time with Centrone as well as her family. Saying goodbye at the airport was one of the hardest things I have done, but Centrone hopes to travel to the United States in July, which means our adventures are not over yet.