Arrival, anxiety, and finding my people
It was a warm Saturday morning in Canberra when I woke at 6:00 am. The day had finally arrived. I was about to embark on a journey. Not a journey like Egypt, which had been one of excitement, discovery and a lifelong dream fulfilled. This one felt very different.
It would also be a journey of discovery and enlightenment, but instead of excitement I felt trepidation. Fear, even.
For the first time in a long while, I was travelling completely alone. No Mardi. No family. No familiar support network. Just me, heading to Harvard Business School for the Advanced Management Program.
I had packed carefully for three weeks away. My usual Saturday breakfast of toast with Vegemite was non-negotiable, and yes, I had packed a jar to introduce people to Australia’s most polarising culinary export.
Mardi drove me to the Jolimont bus terminal. Canberra may be the nation’s capital, but it doesn’t have true long-haul international flights, so the journey began with a three-and-a-half-hour bus ride to Sydney Airport.
We said goodbye. I shed a tear. We embraced for what felt like forever. I almost didn’t board. Only when the driver looked at us expectantly did I step onto the bus. It was 7:59 am. My journey had begun.
The long way to Boston
I used the bus trip to read and prepare for the program. There is a significant pre-work load for AMP, spanning accounting, leadership, strategy and personal reflection. It was a productive way to steady my nerves and build on the work I’d done over the past two or three weeks.
At Sydney International Terminal, Qantas staff met me at the curb. Travelling alone with low vision can be cognitively demanding, so this assistance removes a huge layer of stress. Alistair guided me through check-in, security, immigration and into the First Lounge.
Then came the first curveball. A maintenance delay. Four hours.
I passed the time with reading, hydration, a massage and a quiet lunch. Eventually Qantas Flight QF7 to Dallas boarded. I had been fortunate to receive an upgrade to First Class, which meant the plus 15-hour journey would at least be comfortable.
Distance Sydney to Dallas: approximately 13,800 kilometres.
Despite making up some time in the air, we landed late and I missed my connection to Boston.
Valentine’s Day in Dallas
A Qantas staff member named Zoila met me at the aircraft door. She calmly explained that I had been rebooked on the next available flight, which was also delayed due to storms.
Dallas Fort Worth Airport was heaving. It was Valentine’s Day. Everywhere were reunions, embraces, flowers, laughter and urgency. The irony was not lost on me. I was more than 17,000 kilometres from my own wife.
I listened to my surroundings, taking them in:
– Tears as couples embraced and departed after a wonderful Valentine’s Day together
Cheers as couples reunited, celebrating their reunions.
-The squeak of strollers, trolleys and luggage carts on the floor.
-The groan of escalators under the sheer weight and volume of people moving around the airport.
The ding of cash registers and EFTPOS terminals as people purchase last-minute gifts, flowers, chocolates, alcohol.
All these sounds coming together across eight terminals and a massive airport.
Zoila guided me through crowds, prams, luggage carts and long queues. Without assistance, this would have been overwhelming. We chatted with fellow travellers on the packed terminal train, all of us united by delays but buoyed by the occasion.
Eventually she left me at my gate. Another delay. More waiting.
After roughly 22 hours of travel, fatigue set in. My body clock had no idea what continent it was on.
One more flight
The final leg to Boston boarded about two hours late. I sat next to a woman named Leah, who was returning home after time away from her husband. We discovered a shared connection to Egypt and spent much of the flight reminiscing about pyramids, temples and desert landscapes.
We landed around 11 pm Boston time.
Because of the late arrival, assistance staff were unavailable. I navigated alone, following the crowd and listening carefully for announcements. When the baggage carousel stopped with no orange suitcase in sight, panic set in. Everything I needed for three weeks was in that bag.
Eventually it appeared. Bright orange. Impossible to miss. A “Tahitian sunrise” among a sea of black suitcases.
Shock to the system
Outside the terminal, Boston delivered its next surprise.
Minus six degrees.
I had left Canberra at 34 degrees only 30 hours earlier.
After briefly getting lost due to construction moving the taxi rank, I found the queue, pulled on my jacket and within minutes was in a warm cab heading to the hotel. By then I had been travelling for roughly 30 hours.
The real adventure would begin the next morning.
First steps on campus
After a short sleep, I walked to Harvard Business School. The hotel was only ten minutes away, something my past self had clearly planned well.
Snow lined the streets and footpaths. It felt like another world.
At the Chao Centre I checked in and was shown to Tata Hall and was shown to my room — 146, Living Group 1E. It was quiet. Most participants had not yet arrived, which gave me time to settle in and familiarise myself with the space.
For someone with low vision, unfamiliar environments and new groups can create intense cognitive load. I can’t read name tags or recognise faces. Remembering voices and names becomes essential.
Harvard had thoughtfully provided adaptive technology in my room, including a large monitor and keyboard for my iPad. Within an hour I had a functional workspace. My safe base.
The greeting committee
Venturing downstairs, I heard voices. A man approached.
“Good day, I’m Zach. You must be Michael.”
Of course — he could see my name tag.
Soon a small group formed. Australia, the US, India, Europe, Asia. A true cross-section of the world. Zach jokingly declared us the unofficial greeting committee, welcoming arrivals as they checked in.
It was the perfect icebreaker. My confidence began to rise.
Welcome to Harvard
By late afternoon, the full cohort of about 150 executives had assembled. We were escorted to a lecture theatre for the formal welcome.
Harvard describes the AMP as “life-changing.” After 40 hours of travel, it already felt that way.
Then came dinner with our living groups.
Seven new faces. Seven new names. Seven different countries. A preview of the richness ahead.
Buffet service is notoriously difficult when you can’t see the food or signage. I struggled briefly until a staff member named Bill quietly stepped in to assist. Over the coming weeks he would become an unsung hero of my stay.
Back at our group lounge, I made a decision. No masking. Full honesty.
I explained my vision impairment, that I might walk past them without recognising them, that I would need help navigating. Their response was immediate and heartfelt:
“We’ve got you.”
In that moment, the fear that had travelled with me across the world began to fade.
Finding my people
Over the first week our living group bonded quickly. We studied together, trained in the gym, walked the campus, shared meals and stories. Each person brought extraordinary professional success and deeply human experiences. We just got on.
The academic pace is intense. When not in class, you are reading, preparing case studies, reflecting on your leadership journey. Jet lag meant some nights I slept only four hours, waking at 2 or 3 am unable to return to sleep.
Yet the energy of the group carried me through.
There is also deliberate encouragement to broaden connections beyond your living group. I connected with fellow Australians and New Zealanders, and with cricket fans from the subcontinent following the T20 World Cup. Sadly, Australia did not perform well. We talk about case studies, of course, but our conversations go deeper. We talk about our worlds, our homeland. We share stories. I don’t know how many times I was asked, “What’s the most dangerous animal in Australia?” Or “what is Vegemite?” I learned about life in South Africa, Germany, China, Japan, India, and a dozen other places. It seems we all share one thing: we’re all human. Despite the different lands we come from, the different languages we speak, and the different rituals we celebrate, that’s the one thing that unites us all: that human spirit to learn, to grow, to share, to engage. What an environment.
One week in
A week ago, I nearly didn’t come.
Today, I cannot imagine not being here.
What began with fear has shifted into anticipation. I have already formed deep connections with seven remarkable human beings, and I am learning as much about myself as I am about leadership.
Two weeks remain in this module, and if the first seven days are any indication, they will be transformative.
The journey has only just begun.
