Starting over in a different country is never as simple as people imagine. Over the past eight years of living in New Zealand, I’ve met so many immigrants with stories full of courage, heartbreak, and hope — and of course, I’m one of them. Even my mother was an immigrant, so I grew up watching the struggle long before I lived it myself.
People often ask, “Why don’t you just stay in your home country?” The truth is: the reasons are endless. Safety. Opportunity. Stability. A future you can actually imagine. Most of us leave because we want a better life — or at least the chance at one.
But the beginning is always harder than you expect. You know it will be tough, but knowing and living it are two very different things. Many people break during that early stage. You miss your old life, your routines, your friends, the version of yourself that felt grounded. I felt that too. I had a good social circle, a decent job, and a sense of direction. But something was missing. The political climate in my Eastern European country was getting worse, and I kept wondering if life could be better somewhere else.
The Visa Lottery That Decided My Future
When people talk about moving to New Zealand, they often imagine a simple process. And yes — if you’re from a Western country, it can be. Many can decide on a whim to move abroad and get a visa the next day. No restrictions. No stress. No lottery.
For the rest of us, it’s a completely different story.
In my country, only 100 spots were available each year for the New Zealand Work and Holiday visa. When applications opened, they disappeared in under ten minutes. You needed preparation, strategy, and a lot of luck.
I waited years to apply because I wanted to finish my university degree first. I knew that if I left, I might never return — and then what would I do without that degree? So I waited, planned, and imagined my future over and over again.
A week before the application day, my partner of four years told me he wouldn’t even try to apply. If I wanted to go, I’d be going alone. That wasn’t exactly the “next step” I imagined for us. I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t have the answers ready, and unsurprisingly, I didn’t get the visa that year.
But that failure showed me how much I truly wanted it.
Trying Again — and Losing More Than I Expected
The next year, I prepared like my life depended on it. I watched videos, practiced the questions, and even created a backup plan: if I didn’t get the NZ visa, I’d go to Australia (which required IELTS, government letters, and a lot more money).
One week before the second application round, I broke up with my boyfriend. Our lives were heading in different directions, and I couldn’t keep shrinking my dreams to fit his.
On the night of the application, I was shaking. I think I even prayed — and I’m not a religious person. It felt like a lottery where you had to earn your ticket, but luck still decided everything.
And honestly, I don’t think many Westerners understand this part. They don’t know what it’s like to have your entire future depend on a ten‑minute online window. They don’t know what it’s like to be treated differently because of your passport. There’s still an invisible border between “first world” countries and the rest of us.
People treat you differently if you’re from France or Germany than if you’re from Hungary or India. Sometimes it feels like being a second‑class human.
The Six Months That Felt Like Floating
When I finally got the visa, something shifted inside me. I had six months between getting the approval and actually leaving — and those six months were some of the best of my life.
I felt like I was walking on clouds. Everything suddenly felt lighter. I could breathe again.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t stuck in uncertainty. I had a direction, a plan, a future. I took things easy, enjoyed my days, and let myself feel excited about the adventure ahead. I spent hours reading travel blogs, stories from other Hungarian Work and Holiday visa holders, and every little detail I could find in Facebook groups. It felt like my new life had already begun, even though I was still physically at home.
It was a strange, beautiful in‑between — one foot in my old life, one foot already stepping into the unknown.
Why New Zealand — and Why So Far Away
New Zealand is literally the furthest place from my home country, which still makes me laugh a little. I really went as far as I possibly could. But in a strange way, that distance felt right. I wanted a clean break, a real chance to start over.
My main goal was simple: I wanted to live in a place where the language was English. The UK felt too close, and honestly, there were too many Hungarians there. I didn’t want to move abroad just to end up speaking Hungarian all the time. I wanted to learn English properly, to push myself out of my comfort zone.
The US wasn’t really an option — especially with Trump in power at the time — so the only real contenders were New Zealand and Australia. And between the two, the choice became surprisingly easy. Australia has too many dangerous animals for my liking, so New Zealand won by default. A peaceful country with no snakes?
The Moment Everything Changed
When the day finally came to leave, it felt surreal. My close family came with me to the airport, and even though this was “supposed” to be a one‑year trip, we all felt the truth underneath it. We knew this wasn’t just a year abroad. We knew something bigger was beginning. And we were right — it’s been more than eight years now.
I remember the moment the plane took off so vividly. As we climbed above the clouds, the sky opened into one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever witnessed. Shades of orange, yellow, and soft red stretched across the horizon, and the clouds looked like something out of a cartoon — impossibly fluffy, glowing from within. It felt like I was floating into another world.
For a moment, everything was so peaceful, so surreal, that I thought: If I died right now, I would be at peace. Not because I wanted to die, but because the moment felt complete — like I was exactly where I was meant to be, suspended between the life I had known and the life I was about to create.
This was just the start — the leaving phase. The part where you pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and step into the unknown without fully understanding what you’re truly leaving behind.
For anyone curious about the visa I applied for, you can find the official details on the New Zealand Immigration website.
