There's a beginning to every story

At 11.45 on the 18th July, having said my final, stunned goodbyes at home, I ducked my head into the passenger seat and let Dad drive me to the Coach Station. As per usual, our celerity brought us half an hour early and so we had ample time to slouch in the waiting area watching the coaches sink in and out of their parking spaces. ‘So are you excited at all yet?’ said Dad, after a few minutes. It was the first time he and I had really spoken about the trip, aside from the general Have-you-planned-everything-yet? questions. For a whole month, my family had been consumed by the stress of it all; and even then, with the rucksack on my lap and the ticket in my hand, I wasn’t sure if I was excited to go.

‘I am now.’ I said. ‘Now that everything’s sorted.’

Dad nodded and his arms were folded. I couldn't look at him. After investing so much time and energy into this trip, I abhorred the idea that either of my parents might notice the reluctance in my eyes. ‘Well,' said Dad, 'I think it’s a really good thing. I think you’ll enjoy it.’

I nodded.

‘And who knows, maybe you’ll even find a career in it.’

‘Yes, maybe.’ I said, with even less enthusiasm.

Months ago, when I first signed up to Think Pacific on a whim of uncharacteristic spontaneity, I hadn't worried about the fundraising aspect. It was just another exciting challenge. But as soon as my deposit in, it became urgent to get everything else booked asap and I was at once, thrown into the ominous, outlandish zone known as, ‘The Adult World.’ Somehow, the intensity of my passion waned with every flight and insurance policy that soon dried up my bank account. Everything was a snap decision: which airline, what time, what day, how much, how long? Even the websites had little timers on them so that, if at any stage I hesitated, it logged me out.

It was odd, at the station, to have reached the first hurdle without having thought for a long time, why I was actually there. For half an hour therefore, I had the pleasure of being reminded that I was about to embark on something much bigger than myself, and venture on a journey that, one year ago, would have been leagues past my capability. Still, when the coach arrived, nothing could have prepared me for the huge bear hug Dad pulled me into as he said, ‘Love you Chloe. We're so proud of you.’

For the length of the coach trip thereafter, I had my earphones in, watching the streets of England merge into one with my face pressed up against the window like the mellow figurine of a music video. It took three hours to get to Heathrow Airport, where a surprisingly chirpy man at the check-in desk took my suitcase and directed me to Customs.

I spent four hours in the airport in all. For the most part, eating, as you do when your mum treats you to a lounge pass and the food is complementary. For the rest, I was filling in the first few pages of the diary. With crumbs on my lap and a fine view of the aeroplanes, I then cemented plans to meet with another member of the team, Danni, who would be sharing my flights on the way there. In the last few minutes pre-departure therefore, I got talking to someone just as crazy and as fool-hardy as me to have lumped all the money they had into travelling across the globe with dreams to make the world a better place and have the experience of a lifetime; and this was my greatest comfort. Then finally, with the boarding pass in one hand and my phone in the other, I sent my last ‘On-my-way’ texts back home, and shuffled onto the plane.

Thus began my journey to Fiji .....via Hong Kong.