Wanda murmured the words as though seeing them on a neon sign - THIS MUST BE THE PLACE - and couldn't control the tears filling her eyes, threatening to overflow and cool her flushed cheeks. Hours before she'd said, "Elder Park? How delightful. I 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..." and Harry opened his hands and arms, embracing their new world. After all those weeks at sea, solid ground was bliss as land smells transformed into the headiest of perfumes wafted on the breeze.

* * * * * * * * * *

From the moment they stepped off the ship to begin the slow shuffle down the gangplank, the immigrant Larsen family felt strangely alone - alien - as they joined the hustle and bustle and confusion of people milling about on the wharf way below. Colourful and noisy certainly. But comforting to be part of a crowd again? Not tinily.

The cacophony of voices in different languages became louder and more strident as fear of this new country grew and memories of tales of its wildness and unexpected dangers revived and flourished anew. While some loudly expressed their worries, there were those who wept as others tried to reassure and explain so much that was beyond understanding.

"I don't see any kangaroos yet, Harry." Wanda strained her neck every which way, trying to peer over the crowds.

Harry patted her hand. "They could be further inland. Probably we'll see some through the train window on our way to Adelaide." His face was calm, as though this was a perfectly natural thing in this foreign place. Years later he would recount the tale with great amusement, always adding, "... we truly thought we'd see kangaroos hopping down the streets." He'd laugh out loud. "We had no idea."

On this day, as the early morning sea fog lifted, he reassured Wanda, reminding her, "It's not the first strange thing we've seen since we left home, is it? Remember those skinny little dark kids burying their faces into that bright pink stuff, dribbling juice all down their swollen bellies? Huh? Remember that?"

"Yes-s-s... in Aden, wasn't it?" When Harry nodded, she continued, "Watermelon. That's what they called it. A fruit, they said." The disdainful twist of her mouth showed clearly how she felt about THAT sweetmeat. "Of course, they were street children. Probably never known about sitting down at a table with serviettes, and a knife and fork, and—"

This time Harry squeezed her hand tightly. "Probably grateful for anything they could get to eat, by the way they were tearing into those great pieces. Why... I saw one little chap with his face buried so deep inside his slice I could only see his ears. Right into it he was, tearing it apart like a wild thing."

"Never ever saw anything like that before... at home." And Wanda' voice became wistful as her weary and anxious face briefly revealed the longing for all they'd left behind. Abruptly her eyes filled with tears, as she whispered, Ohh my Denmark. Will I ever see you again? Around her, many faces reflected the same fear of the unknown; eyes filled with doubt about their decision; sadness for the homeland many had left behind forever. And yet, against the odds, overriding all other feelings, Wanda found a fierce sense of excitement creep in - almost exhilaration. It had taken a great deal of courage to launch into this incredible journey, this almost unthinkable risk. If the memories of war-torn Europe and their cruelly occupied country were not so fresh, her family and many others would never have even contemplated such a step. But then, none could have anticipated their sadly changed circumstances, and they had done much more than simply contemplate change. Here they were, finally standing on this strangest of lands... Australia.

At long last the Larsen family were at the official desk, facing unending questions and reams of paperwork. A flurry of excitement surrounded the family when two large bottles of unknown content were found in Harry's luggage. For some reason he was never able to explain, Harry had used valuable storage space to include Hair Tonic and After-shave Lotion. Luckily, a sniff test soon proved Harry's bewilderment and 16 year old Kanute's limited English explanation to be accurate, and the tickets were handed over, with the stern admonition "When you get to Adelaide city, go directly to Elder Park." They each tried to wrap their tongues around those strange words, but only Kanute had the slightest chance. He was barely able to understand train and ticket, and that this Elder Park was the temporary accommodation they'd heard about on board ship, a stepping stone until they found work and a home of their own. Most else he heard was no more than a gabble of foreign sounds issuing from a small-time authoritarian mouth moving rapidly in a totally bored face .

* * * * * * * * * *

"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?" Wanda anxiously squeezed her face against the window, trying to see further along the strangely empty railway platform. The journey had started in a perfectly ordinary fashion - one the family was well accustomed to - with the train engine slowly building steam and speed as the family peered eagerly out at the passing scenery. Sometimes it was a disappointing treeless swamp, with maybe some distant houses shimmering in the increasing heat. Most unattractive. Then there were the backs of what looked like industrial sheds and wreckers' yards. Even more unattractive, if that was possible.

There were several stops - screeching brakes grabbing tight to shiny steel rails accompanied a huge whoosh of steam as the train pulled into old-fashioned-looking stations. Passengers boarded and left the multiple carriages, although most were obviously not immigrants. The 'newbies' were easily identified by their confused and fearful expressions, together with their shockingly inappropriate clothing for the new climate they now faced. Their bulging suitcases, strapped with sturdy belts for extra safety were an equally obvious giveaway.

Now the train had stopped yet again. At first, this seemed no different than those before, and yet it was taking an unusually long time. Confronted by her family's blank stares, Wanda repeated her question about the possibility of a breakdown. This time Harry answered.

"I don't know. Surely not." He peered around and decided it was best not to leave his wife and younger son alone. The ten year old Jens was already traumatised enough by the sudden wrench from home and friends and all that he knew. Now, so far out of his comfort zone and with this strange language to contend with, it was little wonder he refused to talk at all when in the company of English-speakers.

The decision made, Harry straightened his back and said,"Kanute, go to the door and have a look."

Despite his face showing his own concern and confusion, Kanute followed his father's instruction and swung out the doorway with a firm grip on the handrail. No way would he be left behind in this strange country. Leaning as far out as he dared, his eyes widened as he gasped his disbelief.

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

No-one had told the Larsen family about the change of trains at this halfway station, where everyone left their current train, crossed the platform and caught another destined for Adelaide city, whilst the previous one returned to the seaport. As they gathered their carry-on possessions and walked the empty carriage, the four of them shook their heads in wonder at this unexpected and unfathomable custom (or whatever it was), in this strange new country, where a train made half its journey to the city, then turned back. Travelled daily as a commute, this simple journey caused no strain mentally or physically. For the regulars it was automatic, not requiring a second thought. But not so for the immigrant Larsen family. The details had obviously been spoken too quickly for Kanute's limited knowledge of the language... his school-English.

"But why Harry? Why?" Wanda was perplexed. It would be some time before they would all learn that despite Harry's in-depth reading about Australia, he'd not found mention of the fact that rail lines still had different gauges (or rail widths) in many parts of this vast country... or that they would encounter this on their very first day.

Another long and impatient wait later, the family boarded the correct train to reach their destination, and after a brief respite of once again studying the rough and oft-neglected back ends of too many buildings, they faced their next hurdle - at their destination - Adelaide Railway Station. At the top of a large staircase leading up from the station to a main city street they faced another major obstacle - where to go next. A vista of office-type buildings confronted them... but nothing even vaguely resembled what they imagined as migrant accommodation.

Fortunately, a young duty policeman stood at the top. This was not the first immigrant family he had encountered and he took pity on their obvious distress and pointed the way, "Up to the corner, turn left and just past the City Baths is Elder Park," he directed, in kindly tones.

It wouldn't take the Larsen family long to learn Elder Park was not a park as they imagined, nor even a comfortable hotel. The reality was a bare essentials migrant hostel where everything was adequate, without any niceties to tempt newcomers to linger longer than absolutely necessary. And another less than pleasant discovery was the City Baths they'd heard mentioned. This was the main Adelaide public swimming pool, NOT fragrantly inviting hot-baths to take away the harshest memories of their wearisome journey.

As the family gratefully dropped their suitcases to take a few minutes before confronting the next lot of 'red tape' at their transit home, Harry sighed thankfully. "At least the kangaroos didn't get us," he said.

"Yet... " said Wanda, and hugged her sons tightly to her.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash