A whole year?

Just about outta here

Hard to believe that after almost ten months I'll be seeing Chloe tomorrow. In addition to my hints about yard work, she asked me to relay one for her: an apple pie would be a nice thing to come home to.

I don't think I could be much more obsessively-compulsively prepared for this trip. My flight leaves at 6:50 pm, which is a perfect time for someone who can't go to bed early and lives at least an hour - depending on the ferry schedule - from the airport. I'm excited to see Chloe and observe her being Spanish so I'm going to concentrate on that and not sweat the inevitable travel hassles.

Chloe said it's 105 degrees and cloudy with occasional thunderstorms in Pamplona, and she's been told it's worse in Madrid. I have to fight a tendency toward unpleasantness when it's much over 75, so I've been psyching myself up for hot and humid. My preparation essentially boils down to getting over myself because it's going to be hot and so what because no one is interested in hearing about my heat intolerance while on my European vacation. We should find out first hand why the siesta was invented.

Our hotel in Madrid charges 5 euros extra per day for air conditioning and, after my mom's recent experience, I'm just hoping that their idea of air conditioning is the same as mine. Mom and Karen were somewhere in Portugal or Spain and discovered that their hotel had no air conditioning. They asked for a fan but the request was lost in translation. A woman knocked on their door, entered, and began spraying air freshener in the corners of their already clean hotel room. Two words of advice: phrase book.

Yeah, I knew that

Should you ever be compelled to feel like an idiot, have a general conversation with a well-read foreign exchange student. While we were waiting to get the ticket to San Francisco fixed, Alaska Air was in a bit of a shambles. Two hours before its scheduled departure, their flight was half an hour late. The conveyor belt that was supposed to deliver the luggage wasn't working, so bags were piled up around the counter, vulnerable to anyone who happened to walk by. To politely mention concern about the security of the bags or concern about them making the same flight as their owners was quickly proved to be not appreciated by the Alaska Airlines baggage checker-inners. Most of the e-ticket stations were open, but there were only about a third enough employees to staff them. Hence, two-thirds of the passengers were standing around wondering what to do because every time they'd ask, they'd get a, "If you can wait a moment, I'm helping Skippy here" or "We didn't call your name yet" with no explanation of how one might place his name on a list to be subsequently called.

Despite multiple attempts, the aforementioned student couldn't get past the boarding-pass issuing machine and no one could tell us what to do or where to go (Alaska Air is also apparently trimming the budget by eliminating helpful signage). The difficulties with the boarding-pass machine prompted the student to comment that this was an example of why we should depend on men and not machines. As it turned out, it was man (a woman, actually, the travel agent) who had made the mistake, which was a victory of sorts for me because I'm a fan of machines when they are properly deployed.

Amid the confusion and as sort of an explanation I told him that a short while ago all of the Alaska Airlines baggage handlers reported for work one morning only to find that they'd all been fired and replaced with outside employees ("Scabs?" he asked, his European mind incredulous at the thought) because they couldn't agree on a contract. He, a European (a seventeen-year-old European) where strikes are a common event, said that surely that wasn't legal. I said maybe not, but until it's sorted out in court a lot of people are out of jobs. He said, "That's like Carnegie in the 1890s locking his employees out and shutting down his factories." Um, yeah. That sounded vaguely familiar. Then, "That's against the Wagner Act! Isn't it?" Um, sure it is. Click on the link and then you, like me now, will know what he was talking about.

Temporary daughter takes off

Last night I picked up Alicia at the airport from her trip to Chicago. This morning we went back to the airport so she could leave for her Rotary trip to San Francisco, Hollywood, the beach, Disneyland, Universal Studios, Las Vegas (for the Fourth of July), the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, and I don't remember where else. Of the twelve inbounds in the Seattle district, ten of them are going on this trip (out of a total of about 54). Fifty-plus kids from many different countries traveling on a bus (and camping) through the American west for a couple of weeks. There has been a lot of ethnic and racial intolerance throughout the world to read about lately, and I see this trip as a partial antidote to that poison. It makes me hopeful just to think about it.

We swapped suitcases, Alicia left some things here that Christopher can take back to her host parents before she gets back (she decided - after a prudent count - that seventeen t-shirts was a bit much for a fourteen-day trip), and she was off. Her host parents will pick her up in a couple of weeks and then she leaves for home the next day. She'll get home a couple of days after Chloe and I leave her house in Pamplona.

It was great to see her again for a brief time and we (Steve, Christopher, my mom, and Steve's sister) got to say goodbye. At the airport we were at the Alaska Air ticket counter (several of them) for about an hour sorting out another boy's ticket. His travel agent booked him on the wrong flight even though months ago he'd forwarded Alicia's itinerary to the travel agent and told her that's the flight he needed to be on. I told him to be charming (his usual demeanor anyway) because there were no seats left on the flight, except in first class. His charm wasn't necessary because the ticket agent couldn't have been more helpful and took care of everything (I think he was a sucker for a group of international students traveling in the US). Then they (four of them) were off to the security line. Because they were all there it wasn't so bad saying goodbye to Alicia. I hugged her and told her I'd be seeing her again. As I was walking away she said, confused, "Wait, when?" I choked out, "Sometime." It's easier to say See you again than it is to say Goodbye.

The ticketing snafu was a valuable demonstration of why it's not a good idea to leave a passenger at the airport doors and then drive off (the case with two of the students, including the one with the ticketing problem). These are intelligent kids and they would have eventually gotten it figured out, but having a native-English speaking adult there helped to pave the way to a successful resolution.

Can't we all just get along?

When we got home from spending about four months in Scotland (in 1999) I was shocked at all the bad news on TV here. I've always watched the news so I was surprised at my reaction after having been gone for only a few months. We were gone when the kids shot up Columbine High School so we missed the worst of the violence here (the British perspective on the tragedy was interesting). I didn't remember hearing about so many shootings and other horrific crimes every night on the news. There was virtually none of that on the news in the UK because very few people there shoot each other. Not even police officers carry handguns unless they are specially licensed (I don't know if that's changed since then). A nail bomb here and there, but not many bullets. There was a national tragedy when a beloved newsreader was gunned down on the front steps of her home in an expensive neighborhood. For days the police focused on several outrageous scenarios because who but professional criminals from international crime organizations would have access to a 9mm handgun? When we came home I was abruptly reminded that everyone here has easy access to a variety of handguns.

We live in a relatively small community, but we've had a lot of bad news lately. In the last few weeks a pair of grandparents were arrested for keeping their three grandchildren hog-tied (literally) with zip-ties and periodically beating them. The other day a 63-year-old man was arrested when it was discovered that he'd given his three-year-old step-granddaughter herpes. He says she - a three year old - initiated it and he "just went too far" (he had custody of her). Today, a beloved store owner was shot in the head by a regular customer and friend. No one knows why yet, but the guy who shot him pulled up in his car, got out, and blasted him with one shot from a shotgun and never said a word. Witnesses said he didn't even aim. The man who was killed was famous for the hundred or so beautiful petunia baskets he had on the front porch of his store. You couldn't help but think that the world is a good place when driving by the magnificent display of pink and purple blossoms crowding the porch and hanging from the eaves. Several guys would sit on that porch every morning, drink the coffee he provided them for free, and discuss the headlines they were reading from papers they didn't pay for. The guy who shot him grew up here and graduated in my class. He's had some ongoing mental-health problems since after high school (see, this is a small town) so this may turn out to be a truly senseless murder of a wonderful man who spent his life making people feel welcome while providing thousands of passersby a beautiful spot of color as they whizzed past to tend to their lives.

I know that bad things happen all over the world, but it seems like we kill each other and brutalize our children here in greater proportion to population than many other civilized nations. Some day when I'm not so sad I'll check that out.

I was debating about whether to tell Chloe because it's local news and she'll be home soon, but it's just so depressing and what good will it do for her to know? Then I remembered how disoriented and sad I was at coming home and seeing and reading all the bad news here and thought maybe this is one more area where she should start preparing for her return.

They're trickling in

Alicia's sister, Laura, is back home in Pamplona from Kansas. Because they are in the same grade and Chloe went to her school, Laura's friends were kind enough to befriend Chloe, so it's even more fun for them to meet and see these various worlds collide. It's not often in Rotary that there is a house-to-house exchange so this is an unusual situation. It seems odd that everyone in Chloe's family met Laura at Christmas time, yet Chloe knows her pretty well from IMing with her (and from her friends) even though they first met in person yesterday. She said seeing the emotional reunions between Laura and her friends makes her more excited to come home.

And today is Chloe's last day of school, with the end-of-year gala tomorrow night. Chloe has said that Laura is very excited to be home in time for that. She'll be a celebrity - among the people Chloe knows, very few know anyone who has spent a year in America, especially at sixteen years old.

Where's Chloe?

Where is Chloe sleeping tonight? I don't know and haven't given it much thought until just now. The daughter of her current family might be home by now and probably wants her bedroom back. Is Chloe still there or back at Alicia's house? Or someplace else? I've progressed from near-frantic concern over sending my barely sixteen-year-old daughter to a strange family thousands of miles from home to offhandedly wondering where and with whom she's living. What's better, though, is that she's progressed in the same way. When I asked her where she was going to be living these days before she leaves to meet me in Madrid, she casually said, "I haven't given it too much thought but I'm not worried about it. I'll figure it out in the next few days."

Gosh, what a year

All of this end-of-year business has put me in a rhapsodic frame of mind. At Alicia's goodbye party I was struck again by what an incredible, life-altering gift these kids have been given, and by strangers at that. Warning: gushiness ahead.

There was supposed to be only one student from Vashon sent out this year; instead, the Rotary club agreed to send three of them. These kids have flourished in Italy, France, and Spain and will bring three times the experience home to their school, friends, and families next year. They're also lucky that they'll have each other to turn to while reintegrating themselves into their former lives.

Alicia was not supposed to come to Vashon, but Vashon Rotary and the school district (which made an emergency exception to accept six exchange students instead of the customary limit of five) welcomed her anyway. Vashon Rotary gives each student a $100 per month stipend (ends up being $1,000 per year, per student), and that's in addition to the various fees that the clubs pay for the kids they're hosting (travel to Rotary-sponsored outings, etc.), so one unexpected additional student is a considerable expense. The Vashon Rotary club is small in relation to the 50+ other clubs in the Seattle district. Out of all the clubs in the district, only about twelve or thirteen students were hosted, and Vashon hosted twenty-five percent of them.

Among those three were a girl who spoke no English, despite what her application claimed. It's not a requirement, but it's nice to know to help ease the student's transition. She was terrified when she first arrived, but had gained enough confidence (thanks in large part to the early efforts of her first host family) to play on the school volleyball and basketball teams and be a cast member in the school play. Although Alicia was relatively young when she arrived, she has been nothing but an asset to the Youth Exchange organization and has enriched the lives of every family she's lived with this year. She's also bringing home with her proof that not all Americans are fat and lazy. All of these kids - inbound and outbound - owe a lot to Rotary (and many individuals) for the opportunity given to them. As do the rest of us.

Beginning the goodbyes

Today was the last day of school at Vashon High School. I'd guess that after nearly ten months here Alicia will be taking home more Washington State Ferry paraphernalia than any Washington State resident possesses. And for good reason: ferries were a big part of her life in America. That collage in the background is something her friends made for her. Notice the Nutella. We were happy to provide it for Alicia when she was here, but unless Chloe's developed a taste for it, it shall never again grace our pantry shelves.

No, they're not

People who say that "kids these days" are lazy or rude or self-centered haven't been around too many kids lately. Or they haven't been paying attention. I've always been impressed that most of our kids' friends are energetic, polite, and considerate. Since Christopher was in elementary school I've noticed that the kids were genuinely nice to each other, concerned about each others' well-being, and happily celebrated each other's successes, a trend that followed with Chloe's age group. It must be universal: Chloe has repeatedly said that her friends in Spain are nice and sweet and thoughtful and they are going to be the hardest thing about leaving for home. And Alicia could not be a better ambassador for Spain. Have I mentioned before that she's going to be a tough exchange-student act to follow?

Tonight Alicia's second host family had a goodbye party for her and my impression about "kids these days" was confirmed again - they are nice people. She will be going home with wonderful memories of what it's like to be a stranger in a small, foreign community of mostly nice, warm, welcoming Americans, people who embraced her and made her an integral part of their families. When she goes home to Spain she can refute the perception that we're all Homer Simpson.

No, but can I take a message?

My phone rings while driving to the store today:

"Chloe?" [I haven't heard that in a long time.]

Uh, no.

"Who's this?" [oh, how that bugs me - you called me]

Who's this?

"This is ______. Is Chloe there?"

Uh, no, she hasn't been here all year. She's in Spain.

"Who's this?"

This is her mom.

"Oh, okay."

I'd have her call you back, but she's in Spain.

"Okay, thank you."

First, how the heck did he get my phone number instead of Chloe's? Second, I recognize this kid's name. Has he not noticed that she's not been at school this year? Or did someone tell him she's home already?