Vans, Planes, Ferries, and a Chinese Family: A Journey to Liverpool

The journey from home to university is usually predictable: a drive to the airport, a flight, and maybe a train or two. For me, though, studying in Liverpool, England, always turned into an epic saga worthy of a Hollywood script. Liverpool was my destination, but the closest international city I could reliably reach from the States was Dublin. That meant cobbling together planes, ferries, and more to get to my little flat near the River Mersey. But one particular trip back to school remains etched in my memory—not because it went smoothly, but because it didn’t. It’s the story of a young Chinese family fleeing to start a new life, a weather disaster that stranded us in Munich, and how a nineteen-year-old learned something about sacrifice, resilience, and humor over three chaotic days.

The Journey Begins

It started in a van from Philadelphia, bound for JFK Airport. I was half-asleep and dreading the long trek back to Liverpool after winter break. But I perked up when I noticed a young boy sitting across from me, chattering excitedly in perfect English. His parents, grandparents, and he were squeezed together, surrounded by luggage. His grandparents and parents smiled at me but said nothing. The boy, no more than seven or eight years old, explained that they didn’t speak English. He was their translator.

“Where are you headed?” I asked him.

“Dublin!” he said with the kind of enthusiasm only a child could muster. “We’re starting over.”

Starting over? In Dublin? With no job lined up? I was intrigued. The family had left China with just enough money for passage and a suitcase each, hoping to build a better life. The boy—cheerful and curious—seemed unfazed by the enormity of it all. I, on the other hand, felt humbled by their optimism.

Trouble in the Skies

We made it to JFK and boarded the same flight to Dublin. It seemed like the stars were aligning for us—until the weather had other ideas. Somewhere over the Atlantic, we hit turbulence so bad that the pilot rerouted us to Munich, Germany. What was supposed to be a quick transatlantic hop turned into a layover in a foreign country none of us had planned for.

In Munich, I became unofficially adopted by the family. The boy was thrilled to have someone to talk to who wasn’t his family. He introduced me to his grandparents, who nodded approvingly, and his parents, who thanked me in Mandarin. I smiled and nodded back, wishing I could say something intelligent but knowing my vocabulary in their language extended only to “ni hao.”

We spent a full day stuck in Munich. It was surreal. I shared sandwiches with the family, listened to the boy’s stories about his life in China, and told him about Liverpool. His parents seemed calm, though their eyes betrayed exhaustion. The grandparents were stoic but curious about the bustling Munich airport. The boy, though—he was radiant, keeping everyone’s spirits up with jokes and observations about how “German sounds so angry.”

London: The Next Misadventure

After Munich, we finally landed in London, but our troubles weren’t over. Flights to Dublin were backed up for hours. The family and I stuck together, navigating the chaos as a mismatched unit of weary travelers. By now, I was teaching the boy card games, while his grandparents attempted to offer me snacks I couldn’t identify but gratefully accepted.

We were all exhausted, but the family’s perseverance amazed me. I thought about the sacrifices they were making—leaving their home, taking a leap into the unknown. I thought about the boy, too young to understand the full weight of what was happening, yet carrying the enormous responsibility of interpreting the world for his entire family.

The Destination

Finally, after three long days, we landed in Dublin. I was barely functioning at this point, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the family. They had no job, no permanent home, just hope. As we parted ways at the Dublin terminal, the boy gave me a big grin and said, “Good luck in Liverpool!”

“You too,” I said, realizing how inadequate those words were.

What I Learned

That journey taught me more than any university class could. At nineteen, I thought I had life figured out, but spending three days with a family starting over with nothing but faith in a better future made me rethink everything. I learned that hardship doesn’t just build character—it reveals it. The family’s humor, grace, and determination left an indelible mark on me.

To this day, whenever travel plans go awry, I think of that journey, that family, and the little boy who taught me to see the world with wide-eyed wonder. I wonder where they are now, whether their leap of faith paid off. I like to think it did.

Life, much like travel, doesn’t always go as planned. But if you’re lucky, you meet people along the way who remind you of what really matters: resilience, kindness, and a little bit of laughter in the face of chaos.

And if that doesn’t work, just blame the weather.