Wanda murmured the words, imagining a neon sign - 'this must be the place'. Tears threatened to overflow down her flushed cheeks. Hours before, she'd said, "Elder Park? Ahh! Can't wait to sit on the lawns and rest beneath the trees. I wonder if they serve coffee?" and then, with a screwed-up nose, "...but it won't be 'real' coffee like we Danes make."

"I don't care how the coffee tastes... I really don't. But to have grass beneath our feet again? Aaaahh..." Harry opened his arms, embracing their new world. "Four whole weeks at sea!" Though loving all things nautical, a life on the ocean wave had never been Harry's choice.

"Mmm..." Wanda inhaled land smells wafting on the breeze as if breathing the headiest of perfumes. "And trees... Kanute? Jens? Can you smell gum trees yet?" Her sons looked confused. How should they know the smell of a gum tree? How should they know anything on their first day in Australia? Sixteen year old Kanute was the luckiest of the four - full of brash determination to show no fear. Inside, his confidence teetered on a slim tightrope, as the only family member to speak English... school English. Young Jens, three years shy of the terrible teens, clung to his mother's arm and closed his eyes, willing the whole experience to dissolve into a bad dream.

* * * * * * * * * *

Disembarking from the ship in a slow shuffling queue down the gangplank, the immigrant Larsens finally joined the hustling, bustling confusion of people milling about on the wharf. Colourful and noisy, even exciting... yet discomforting too, being part of a tightly-packed crowd again. Despite ship-board restrictions, the new Orsova was large, boasting long stretches of decks for her passengers to explore and enjoy occasional solitary moments. Gazing out to endless seas and sky provided a welcome sense of freedom... that most precious commodity in post-war Europe... even now, in 1956.

The clamour of voices became louder and more strident as fears and memories of tales of the country's wildness and unexpected dangers revived and flourished. A number of English migrants loudly complained about Australia not meeting their expectations. Wanda and Harry grew more confused when Kanute haltingly translated those words.

"But... but... they only paid ten English pounds for their fare, and we paid 150 pounds each, and half for Jens," spluttered Wanda. Her long hours of work had contributed much to the 'Australia' fund.

"AND they speak the language!" Harry's voice was disgusted.

Furtively, looking over her shoulder to make sure no other heard her, Wanda said, "I never liked those English, Harry. They looked down their noses at the rest of us, remember? Said they were coming to 'sort out their Old Country's youngest colony'." Abruptly, Wanda's attention strayed. "I don't see any kangaroos yet, Harry," she said as she strained her neck, peering through the lifting, early-morning sea fog.

Harry patted her hand. "Could be further inland. Probably see some out the train window on our way to Adelaide." He struggled to keep his voice calm, as if seeing kangaroos in the flesh would be perfectly natural in this foreign port. He would recount the tale many times with great amusement, "... we truly thought we'd see kangaroos hopping down the streets." He'd laugh out loud. "We had NO idea."

On this day, he reassured Wanda, reminding her of another strange sight at a recent port - the skinny little kids stuffing their faces with bright pink stuff. "Juice dribbled all over their fat little bellies. Remember?"

"Yes-s-s... in Aden," she answered. "Watermelon. That's what they called it. A fruit, they said." The disdainful twist of her mouth showed clearly how she felt about THAT. "Of course, they were street children. No sitting at a table with serviettes for them, or a knife and fork and—" Wanda's voice broke, her weary, anxious face revealing her loss. Abruptly emotional again, she whispered, Ohh my Denmark. Will I ever see you again?

Many faces reflected the same doubts and sadness. WWII was long past, despite the frustration of continuing rationing on a few final items. The enemy invasion's effect on personal comfort zones had overshadowed the actual overnight occupation of the small country. Harry had given his all to the Danish Resistance movement, then used almost the last of his courage bringing his family to a better life... and hopefully a brighter future for his sons.

Along with over 1000 other passengers, the Larsens entered a huge shed to join a queue slowly approaching Immigration Department officers. Seated behind long trestle tables, official faces were expressionless as they opened each suitcase, leaving each person to repack the jumble they'd made of the carefully organised contents.

Finally the family were presenting passports and answering a short list of what they were carrying into the country. In those faraway days migrants were rarely smugglers of illicit goods, except for foodstuffs the newcomers believed may be impossible to procure. But suitcases were still searched... thoroughly.

A flurry of excitement erupted when two large bottles of unknown content were found in Harry's luggage. He was never able to explain why he had used valuable storage space to include hair tonic and after-shave lotion. Luckily, a sniff test soon proved Harry's bewilderment - and Kanute's limited English explanation - to be accurate. Finally satisfied, the all-important rail tickets were handed over, with the stern admonition "When you get to Adelaide city, go directly to Elder Park."

Each tried to wrap their tongue around the strange words, but only Kanute had the slightest chance of success. Barely able to understand train and ticket, he figured this 'Elder Park' was likely the promised temporary accommodation, a stepping stone to the next hostel until they found work and a home of their own. All else was no more than a gabble of foreign sounds issuing from a totally bored face.

* * * * * * * * * *

The journey started ordinarily enough, the train engine slowly building steam and speed as the family peered eagerly out at the passing scenery.

"But it's all swamp, Harry. No trees, no birds, nothing... looks dead and dreadful." Wanda's many misgivings were resurfacing and developing out of proportion as her vision unexpectedly blurred once again.

Harry's heart sank. This was NOT the picture on the brochures boasting clean air, modern housing and amenities, mild and welcoming climate, breath-taking scenery. He couldn't hide his disappointment and despair. What have I done? Harry tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt collar, and tried to puff cooler air over his face and neck. He didn't recognise a panic attack, instead blaming his sudden temperature rush on autumn being a whole lot warmer here. He'd been so proud of choosing the voyage date to miss the horrendous Australian summer heat - AND the bizarre winter, minus snow and ice, with 'cold snaps' sounding ridiculously warm...

"I see some houses, Mum." Kanute pressed his face hard against the window, as faraway house-like structures loomed closer, slowly revealing themselves. In an attempt to lift her spirits, he said "Here they are Mum—" abruptly interrupting himself with a loud groan. "No! Ohh no... looks like the backs of industrial sheds and wreckers' yards!" And began to wonder if this new land could possibly get more unattractive.

On the opposite side, Harry sighted a range of distant, tall hills, a backdrop to the clustered city buildings. "Not mountains, I don't think," he said. "But they look tall to me." Denmark's landscape was incredibly flat, with a highest point fancifully named 'Sky Mountain', a mere one-fifth of the average height of the Mt. Lofty Ranges seen stretching away as far as the heat shimmer permitted. Both he and Wanda felt relieved. At least clean air seemed a possibility.

Screeching brakes grabbed tightly to shining steel rails as the train pulled into stations along the way, with - "modern amenities?" Harry snorted. "These are the most old-fashioned-looking stations I've seen since those relics out in the farmlands back home."

Passengers boarded and disembarked from the carriages, their casual attitudes indicated a commonplace journey. The faces of some registered interest in the obvious newcomers sharing the carriage. The heavy European clothing and obvious discomfort were dead giveaways, along with the bulging suitcases, strapped with sturdy belts for extra safety. Despite confused, fearful eyes, and tremulous smiles at anyone who looked their way, the Larsens were soon ignored by locals more intent on their own pressing concerns.

Now, a whoosh of steam signalled another stop - seeming no different than before - although this one was much longer. Finally, Wanda said, "We've been sitting here about twenty minutes, and there's no one else in our carriage now. Did the train break down, do you think?" She tried to see further along the strangely empty railway platform.

"A breakdown? I don't know. Surely not." The stress of this day mushroomed again; should Harry leave his fearful wife and young Jens alone while he checked? The boy was already deeply traumatised by the sudden wrench from home and friends. Reluctantly, Harry decided to stay, reasoning Kanute was best equipped to communicate and understand the problem.

Kanute's smooth forehead furrowed. Despite a seriously fluttering heart, he straightened his back, flicked his long blonde fringe back in a hopeful show of brave copability and swung out the doorway, keeping a firm grip on the handrail. No way would he be left behind. Leaning as far out as he dared, his eyes widened as he gasped his disbelief.

"There's no engine! It's gone!"

"Oh Harry! This never happened at home." There was a sob in Wanda's voice. She was right. Nothing like this did happen in their tiny home country. Sadly, Kanute's limited English had let them down when he'd been told at the port to 'change trains at Woodville'. Years later, Wanda would still shake her head in wonder at one train making half the journey to the city, then turning back. Much later they would understand the inexplicable changes of rail width (or gauge) occurring regularly throughout this vast land. For now, reluctantly, the family gathered their luggage, trudged the empty carriage, crossed the platform and waited...

Some hours later, it was Adelaide Railway Station at last! Stopping at the top of a wide staircase to a main street, they faced a vista of office-type buildings... and utter confusion. Nothing vaguely resembled migrant accommodation. Fortunately, a young duty policeman took pity on their obvious distress, "Along to the corner, turn left, and past the City Baths is Elder Park," he directed kindly.

Wanda's hopes revived briefly when Kanute translated the City Baths sign - "This MUST be the place," she said and sighed loudly. "A fragrant sauna, just like at home. Ahh..." and closed her eyes, imagining the bliss of steaming away the harshest memories of their wearisome journey. Poor Wanda. Sadly, the City Baths was no more than the main Adelaide public swimming pool, cold in water temperature and even colder with its stark white tiling.

And next door? Another disappointment. "Elder Park is no park at all." Wanda's tears welled as she surveyed a bare essentials building. Adequate, but lacking any niceties to tempt anyone to linger longer than absolutely necessary...

As the family gratefully dropped their suitcases for a few minutes before confronting more red tape, Harry sighed thankfully. "At least the kangaroos didn't get us," he said.

"Yet... " And Wanda hugged her sons tightly to her.