Opening Words

Hey, dear friends. Remember when we used to watch "Where Are We Going, Dad?" together? Back then, we always envied the beautiful New Zealand scenery in the show, lying in our dorm beds dreaming: how wonderful it would be to live in the Southern Hemisphere for a year. Now, I want to share my working holiday story in Australia with you, a ten-year journey of pursuing dreams that changed the trajectory of my life.

Origins

It was spring 2014, shortly after I graduated from university, when I came to Beijing with hopes for the future. Working as an operations specialist at an internet company, I squeezed onto the subway every morning and worked overtime until after 9 PM. Beijing's pace was so fast it was hard to breathe, and among the skyscrapers, hope seemed invisible. Life was like a never-stopping machine, slowly grinding away the dreams of us young people.

Until one day, while scrolling through WeChat moments, I saw photos of the Sydney Opera House posted by my high school classmate. In the photo, she stood under the Harbour Bridge with the iconic shell-shaped building behind her, sunlight falling on her face, radiating genuine happiness that touched me. In the comments, she mentioned she came to Australia on a working holiday visa. This was the first time I learned that besides the 9-9 life in China, we had another choice.

I started frantically searching for information about working holiday visas, spending several hours researching Australian life after work every day. Gradually, a plan formed in my mind: why not take advantage of my youth and experience a completely different life in the Southern Hemisphere?

Preparing for Departure

Applying for a working holiday visa is definitely not an easy task. First, there's the age restriction - you must be between 18 and 30 (up to 35 for citizens of certain countries). This condition made me realize that if I didn't leave now, I might never have the chance in my life.

The process of preparing materials was extremely grueling. I needed to prepare bank statements to prove I had sufficient financial means to support life in Australia; obtain a police clearance certificate, which required multiple trips between the police station and notary office; the most troublesome was the medical examination - I had to go to designated hospitals for a series of tests to prove I was healthy.

But what touched me most was that the Australian government didn't require applicants to have a job offer. This was incredible news for me, as my English level was only CET-6, and I felt pressure finding jobs in China, let alone abroad. This policy gave ordinary people like us a fair chance to go to Australia first and then find suitable work based on our abilities.

During the two months of preparation, I saved almost all my salary, having lunch at fast food restaurants near the company every day. I worked late into the night just to save more money for the journey. I also specifically enrolled in an oral English training course, spending every weekend at the training institute, striving to improve my English level.

Finally, in the third week after submitting my application, I received the visa approval email. At that moment, tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. This wasn't just a visa - it was a ticket to my dreams.

Landing in Australia

In January 2015, after nearly 9 hours of flight, I finally set foot on Australian soil. I remember the Sydney sunlight was particularly piercing that day, with a sky so blue it looked like a huge gemstone. I dragged two oversized suitcases filled with clothes, electronics, and various snacks and medicines that my mom had packed for me.

For the first month, I chose to stay at a backpackers' hostel in Sydney's city center. It was a somewhat aged Victorian building with bright yellow exterior walls and various national flags hanging at the entrance. As soon as you entered, you could feel the strong international atmosphere - the lobby was full of young people from around the world, some playing guitar, others playing pool, and some just chatting on the sofas.

I stayed in an eight-person room, with roommates from Germany, France, Korea, and Japan. Although everyone's English levels varied, this actually made me less nervous. We often cooked together in the communal kitchen at night, sharing food from our respective countries. My French roommate taught us how to make croissants - though they turned out crooked, the aroma filled the entire kitchen with warmth. The Italian guy's pasta always earned endless praise; he said the secret was adding the right amount of salt to the water and cooking the pasta to just the right firmness. The Korean unni's kimchi soup always comforted me when I felt homesick, its familiar spiciness making me feel not so far from home.

During my days at the hostel, I met many like-minded friends. We often went sunbathing at Bondi Beach together, had picnics in the Royal Botanic Gardens, or just had drinks at bars near the Opera House. Gradually, I noticed my spoken English had improved significantly, and I was no longer afraid to speak up like when I first arrived.