Phoenix was when it happened.

Preparing to go to Taiwan was a long process, from packing to repacking, to buying needed items to the more extensive emotional preparing for the separation from friends and family. Many times it felt like we were spinning our wheels, and anxious to go, but the time ticked by so slowly that we thought it would never come. The day of our long trek arrived on Monday, July 27, 2009. It was wonderful because we had an almost complete day to finish our goodbyes, run errands, weigh our suitcases “one more time,” and get on the plane by 6:15 p.m.

That day felt almost strangely anti-climactic even with all of the “last American meals” and the “last-last American meals” that we had eaten earlier that day and week. It was bizarre to watch my sister Holly drive away with my beloved Dalia in tow, wondering if Dalia would even miss me, wondering if she would ever be the same dog without me, and how I had become so attached to an animal that had been such an ornery pup and had caused me so much grief during the first year or so of her existence.

It still didn’t feel real, like “we-are-really-going-to-Taiwan” real, even when Chris and I were sitting at the airport with my parents and the unspoken “goodbye” elephant in the bustling airport lobby. I am not sure what I was expecting, but I know it still hadn’t sunk in at that point. After teary goodbye hugs, Chris and I walked down the corridor and through the hyper vigilant airport security into our unknown future. It felt like any other flight, on any other day, but in our hearts we knew this would be a defining moment for our futures and what lay beyond the next 24-hour series of flights would change us forever.

We landed in Phoenix, Arizona a short three hours later, and were met with heat that could only be compared to the blast of air that hits your face when you open an oven door. The pilot said it was “a mere 111 degrees,” which I believe was an attempt to make us feel fortunate that it wasn’t hotter. It didn’t work.

In our melancholy states we exited into the corridor to look for our flight to Las Angeles airport. We quickly became frustrated with the utter lack of organization in the Phoenix airport. We chalked it up to the heat frying any resident’s ability to think clearly and logically when planning this unnecessarily massive airport system. After wandering for what seemed like ages, asking for directions approximately four times we were finally directed to leave airport security. We dragged our extensive carryon baggage to the corner and waited for the ghetto airport bus shuttle to drive us the twentyminutes to the correct corridor where we were to be subjected to another hyper-vigilant airport security system.

Although there were no Mandarin characters, and everyone spoke something similar to English, Chris and I finally felt like we were heading out of the country. The first trying traveling experience was the last drop in the “is this really happening” bucket. It was too late to turn back. This was it. The sacrifice was real. We were and would continue to be far from home. We called our parents for the last time from the convenience of our Sprint cell phones, and taxied down the runway. We made it through Phoenix, and together we could make it through anywhere. Funny how it hit so soon, but it still took so long. I can’t explain why it was Phoenix, but that moment will continue to be a reminder. We are sacrificing for this experience, and we resolve to do everything in our power to make this worth it. We will live these two years to the fullest potential.