A whole year?

It will be a lot easier this time

"We've done this before." That's been said a lot recently, in relation to Chloe leaving for college. She'll be only a few hours away so it will be nothing like waving goodbye to a barely-16-year-old who is going half-way around the world to live for a year with strangers who speak a language she doesn't know. She doesn't understand, and I haven't mentioned yet, that it's not her that I'm worried about when she leaves for college. For her, it's an exciting beginning. For us, it's an end to the biggest part of our lives so far. I can't help but think about people who complain about their parents, who roll their eyes and worry about what to do when their parents come to visit, who can't wait until they leave. Will our kids ever say to their friends, "Oh, crap! My parents are coming next week."?

We think about one of Chloe's friends who will be going to the opposite coast to school, a friend who has never been away from the home she loves, and how hard it's going to be for her and her family to say goodbye. And then we sigh with relief that we won't be going through that again. Chloe's departure for Spain is a touchstone that we revisit to assure ourselves that it won't ever be that hard again.

I'm excited for Chloe to live in a dorm and begin college. She'll be just a few minutes away from her brother. Her dorm room, the one she wanted, is close to the amazing new recreation center that has more equipment than she'll know what to do with ("She said the elliptical machines have DVD players!"). We went to orientation yesterday and, through a series of fortunate events, the door to her dorm room was open. She even stretched out on what will be her bed until I reminded her that she didn't know where those tousled sheets had been, although that might have been an image that would have been better left unpainted.

But my excitement for the next part of Chloe's life doesn't prevent me from getting teary-eyed thinking about driving home alone from her school in about six weeks. Even so, that beats the hell out of what we went through last time.

Is there anything happier than a high school graduation?

Krista, Maren, Chloe. June 17, 2006.

Chloe and her brother, Christopher, a 2002 graduate.

World what?

What a great time to have unprecedented US media coverage of World Cup Soccer. Chloe's not overly interested in sports, but she was in Pamplona last year when Osasuna made it to the finals, which was a Very Big Deal on the streets of Pamplona. After they lost, one of Chloe's friends was sitting in the middle of the street, crying. Trying to comfort her, Chloe said they'd probably make it to the finals again another year: "No," she wailed, "they won't!" An international twist: the coach's son (they're Mexican and many people in Pamplona call the coach The Mexican) was in her class at San Cernin.

But this World Cup has a much different meaning for the kids who were exchange students all over the world last year. Chloe would have been on the ferry on the way to Anna Rae's house to watch the Spain-France game (Anna Rae lived in France last year), but the 11:25 ferry turned into the 1:00 ferry ("We apologize for any inconvenience"), so she was on the phone to her when Spain scored the first goal. Chloe might have rubbed it in a wee bit. I watched the last ten minutes of the game - Anna Rae gets bragging rights.

The beginning of the end of high school

It's near the end of the school year and school career with all that entails: award ceremonies, prom, graduation parties, registering for university courses, figuring out what to bring to the dorm room, trying to avoid thinking about saying goodbye, wondering just how much I can change her bedroom without her feeling like she's been cast aside the second she leaves for college.

As I glanced at the program at the latest award ceremony, I quickly gathered that I wouldn't have to pay too much attention to the first several categories: Art, Science, Math. Nope, not much chance of needing to scootch my legs in so Chloe could get by to walk to the front of the commons to receive a photocopied certificate. Band, Drama, Debate, Military and Athletic. Negative again. Likewise, we can relax during the Vocational & Technology Education Awards.

One is invited to the Achievement Awards only if one has received an award (they don't tell you for what), but Chloe joked that she was certain her invitation was a mistake. Whew, toward the end and before we had to leave early to catch the ferry home, she had to stand up for the International Awards (essentially any student who has been to, or is from, another country - alas, no photocopied certificate), then a couple for Honor Society (which we've also heard nothing about, but she's wearing the gold cord and small medal at graduation nonetheless). She's happy because she has some decoration to wear on her graduation gown. And because she deserves it.

If only we'd known the details of these awards at the start of Chloe's high school career we could have directed her to more lucrative extracurricular activities. A group of people in the community formed a foundation to collect scholarship money offered by people in memory of loved ones, former students and teachers, from businesses on the island, etc. To date they've distributed over $1 million, and last week they gave 89 seniors in Chloe's class over $100,000. Keep in mind that this is an island with a population of only 11,000, and this is only one of the many extraordinary things these people do.

Any senior who submits a scholarship notebook (small binders and detailed instructions are provided), and who doesn't have their notebook yanked because of a grievous infraction, gets money. When Christopher was a senior I suggested he not submit a notebook because he worked only as hard as he had to in school and there were other people who deserved the money much more than him. Some kids don't submit notebooks because they have plenty of money for college and want to leave a bigger pie for the rest of the students to divide. Christopher readily agreed (the notebooks are a lot of work to put together), but Chloe has worked hard and she was excited to participate.

I've heard that they try for a minimum of $250 for each student. Some kids get much more than that. One of the scholarships, in memory of a much-loved, youngish teacher who died a few years ago, is for $4,000. Another family gives 5, $1,000 scholarships each year. After the ceremony, along with their thank-you notes, the students return a form to the committee that gives the details of their chosen school (or that they choose to defer the award until they choose a school) and the committee forwards the money to the school on the student's behalf. No, they don't get checks to finance their summer adventures.

After attending the scholarship awards I now know where the big money is: art, science, music, and athletics. Being an overall genius helps, too, and there are a couple of those in Chloe's class. Chloe collected $750 from two scholarships, which she is deferring until St Andrews. I come from a background that tends to believe that higher education is something that rich people get: it's nice to have, but is not necessarily obtainable. Consequently, I've gone a little overboard on ensuring that our kids know that a college degree is not an option for them: they can pump gas if they want, after they get their degrees. So it still surprises me a little when I realize that most people don't consider high school the end of their formal education, and enough people think it important enough to give lots of money to kids they'll never meet to help make higher education possible.

College

I've been going through the Rotary and visa application materials trying to find documentation that we need for college registration. Both kids' vaccination cards misplaced themselves but, of course, it will be on Chloe's Rotary application. Except it's not: It's the only part of the application that is blank. I have copious copies of every document I put my hands on during that time (many of them useless) and I can't find the damn immunization record or the application copy with that section filled out. Now I vaguely remember having to call the school to get her record faxed to me in order to complete the Rotary application. Except they don't have it, either, so I have to try to catch the school nurse on the one day a week she's at school. If she doesn't have it Chloe will be getting two measles shots in the next several months.

Chloe was accepted to the schools she applied to, even St. Andrews in Scotland. So much for "warm and dry." Living in St Andrews will be wetter, colder, darker, and windier than here, which is plenty wet, cold, dark, and windy. But she'll be a quick discount-airlines flight away from warm and dry. She's certain that the English spoken and written in Scotland is enough of a foreign language for her while attending university classes.

Our plan was that she wouldn't get accepted there and even if she did we couldn't afford it so she wouldn't be able to go, but hey, what the heck. What the heck indeed. Acceptance has exposed our plan for the folly that it was, so we have a new plan. She's going to Western Washington University next year while we spend the year trying to figure out how to make St. Andrews work for four years after that. If we could afford to send her there now, we would, but she's really not ready to leave again (she's really enjoyed her year back here) and a year spent a few hours away from home will be good preparation for four more years abroad.

Most of what I've read about college admissions is that it's a crap shoot, especially if you're an above average but not outstanding student. One college admissions officer said he'd rather read an entrance essay that explained what the applicant learned about people while working in a neighborhood grocery store than how the applicant learned all about diversity when he spent the summer in Panama building a school. I agree, but there's no doubt that Chloe's year in Spain was a factor in her college acceptance. Her essays mentioned her experience and how it opened her eyes to other cultures, but also how she dispelled some myths about her culture to the people she met in her host country. And probably reinforced some - now they know for certain that all Americans wear flip-flops year round, even - horrors - when they aren't at the pool.

All the paperwork associated with Chloe's exchange seems like it was prepared a lifetime ago. I'd forgotten the excitement when we found out where she was going. The many bureaucratic disappointments and frustrations along the way. The realization that this was going to happen when we got the itinerary and plane tickets. Every part of the exchange-student experience, from the application to the initial rejection to the return home, has made the prospect of attending university in another country viable. Many people, when they hear that Chloe's planning to go to school in Scotland are surprised. Because of last year, we aren't. Why not? What is so magical about borders that we're surprised when people cross them?

Update on the Edmonton trip

I called Chloe to tell her about a promotion I'd read about at the water park at the West Edmonton Mall, when they finally get there, but her phone was off. So was her aunt's, so I figured they were at a movie, as they'd discussed.

Just called Chloe again and she answered, so I asked if they'd seen a movie: No, actually we're in Salt Lake City. So, between 11:00 and 4:00 they'd decided to get to Edmonton via Salt Lake City, had toured the city, are now looking for someplace to eat dinner, and will get to Edmonton about the time they'd be leaving from Seattle. Don't know what's happened to their luggage.

Their taxi driver got his license two weeks ago and, when asked to take them to the Mormon temple, took them to the city hall. Apparently the ability to read English is not a requirement for a taxi license. Here I sat worried that they're disappointed that they have to kill a lot of time in Seattle and that this snafu has put a damper on their already short trip. I should know better by now: Chloe is in good hands.

Yet another lesson in seizing opportunity and disregarding the first No. My sister-in-law first asked if there was anywhere else they could go and was told no and besides, everything else is booked. So she asked someone else, who said it never hurts to call, and was able to arrange this side trip.

For the next trip, does the seal stay or go?

Magical thinking

Doesn't magical thinking sound like a positive thing? Not until recently did I learn that it's a diagnosis of less than optimum mental health (thanks, Augusten Burroughs and Joan Didion).

Even though I am not overly superstitious, I wrote here (last paragraph) about the little craft-fair seal that Chloe's aunt gave her before we went to Scotland, telling her to bring it for good luck. We did and had great luck in situations where just a little bad luck would have had lasting repercussions for these travelers with little travel experience; zero outside of our country. She took it with her when we went to San Francisco for the visas and she was the only one in the group who got out of there unscathed, her paperwork stamped Completed. She took it with her to Spain and had a great year, and on her trip through southern Spain. Rather than send the now not-so-white seal home ahead of her with the rest of her stuff, she kept it so we could bring it with us on our Europe trip after her exchange. Again, good luck throughout the trip. Of course, a lot of our luck was a matter of being obsessively-compulsively overprepared, but some things can't be accounted for. I hate carrying stuff (the last day of diaper bags is one of my fondest parenting memories) and resent the sway I allow this seal to lord over my packing decisions, but it's small and weighs almost nothing, so why tempt fate?

This weekend the same aunt is taking my niece, Chloe, and another cousin to the West Edmonton Mall for my niece's birthday. Finally, Chloe will no longer have to hang her head in embarrassment that she's never been to Canada, a mere two-hour drive from here (even Alicia has been to Canada). They left last night so they could spend the night in Seattle, close to the airport, a jump start to their fun, spontaneous trip. They'd have a relaxed morning rather than having to rush early this morning to get to the airport in time, and parking would be free with the hotel stay. They're even - horrors - missing a day of school to go shopping, albeit at the "world's largest shopping and entertainment complex." Last night I dropped Chloe off and, out of nowhere, felt a stab of panic: Chloe didn't bring her seal. Oh well, time to get over that silly superstition.

Their flight left this morning at 9:50. So why is Chloe's phone number on my caller ID at 10:20? To tell me that the flight has been canceled due to mechanical difficulties. They've already checked their bags. The next one out is 9:00 tonight. The nice hotel near the airport was "terrible and dirty. There were old grapes under one of the beds." Coming home and going back to the airport means about 4-5 hours of travel/check-in time and they'd come home to do what? They are primed to be gone. They'll make the best of the day in Seattle, but it's still a disappointment.

If Chloe had brought the seal and the flight had still been canceled, we'd be able to disabuse the little beast of the powers we've ascribed to it. If the flight hadn't been canceled we wouldn't know for sure if it was the reason for their smooth flying, so we'd maintain the status quo. But now our magical thinking has been reinforced. Damn that seal and its powers.

Immersion in the language pays off

I'm going to brag on Chloe's behalf because what I'm going to brag about is tenuously relevant to the purpose of this blog. She took the SAT subject test in Spanish (they used to be called SAT II). She needed the score for a college application but hadn't received it yet so she checked the Web site, which said she got an 800, in the 90th percentile. Well, that's great! But 800 out of what? The Web site didn't say, but the ambiguous bar illustrating her score ended at 800. Brilliant analysts that we are, we finally concluded that that means 800/800. Now I, no fan of standardized testing, find myself irrationally wanting the College Board (and isn't that a presumptuous name for a company that makes gazillions of dollars even though it's not affiliated with colleges?) to break the percentiles down further than 10-point spreads, as if it matters. Pretty good for someone who was a non-Spanish speaker just over a year ago and it validates the contention that living a language is the quickest way to learn it.

Random travel notes

• Bidets are perfect for hand-washing clothes. Great for soaking your feet after a long day of sightseeing, too.
• While flipping through channels on the TV in our hotel room in Paris we noticed that they were mostly in English and German. Chloe said they saw the same thing in the south of Spain so we theorized that those must be the free cable channels.
• On our drive from the airport to our hotel in Paris I checked the speedometer: 160 kilometers per hour, just about 100 miles per hour. Cool, but there was no sensation of going fast because we were keeping pace with traffic.
• A charming hotel room quickly turns into hell when there is no air conditioning. Don't let them fool you: a fan is not enough.
• The small hotels we've stayed in have worked out great for us, but now I've confirmed what I've always suspected: I enjoy the anonymity of a larger hotel devoid of intimidating personalities. I'm a failure at travel of the backdoor variety. I'm always afraid I'm going to get yelled at for doing something wrong, like bringing food into the room (expressly forbidden in our Paris hotel). In Rome, the maid scared me (I at first took her to be a disgruntled guest because we'd hear her complaining in the hallway to no one in particular), and here in Paris I can feel the maid's impatient glare through the door. I didn't come to Paris to sleep, but nor did I come to be herded out of my room at the crack of noon.
• At 11:00 PM we watched the Eiffel Tower light up and sparkle. It was still that way at 12:30 AM, the last time I checked.
• I haven't yet seen a hotel hairdryer-on-the-wall that's worth the space it would save in my luggage if I were to leave mine at home.
• A little refrigerator in the hotel room is darn near on my necessity list.
• Next time I will bring a water bottle and not rely on buying bottled water (could easily spend more than $25 a day for one person and there are few places to refill one) or even on buying a bottle of water and refilling it in the hotel, which was my original plan. I get tired of carrying stuff around and I'm much less likely to throw away a water bottle than I am to throw away an empty bottle of water.
• It's true - pop is more expensive than wine, especially in eating establishments. And forget about free refills. It's also true that if chilly beverages are a deal-breaker for you you'd better stay home.
• It doesn't have to be too hot before it is far too hot to lug a backpack around. Just about everyone - men and women - carry different shapes of bags diagonally across their chests. In Rome I bought a purse-kind of thing that wasn't too big and did the same as the Spaniards and the Romans and now the French. It became our lifeline filled with everything we'd need for the day and with the things I wouldn't leave in our rooms: passports, train and plane tickets, money, debit card, water, snacks, maps, Vaseline Lip Therapy, which is like crack to me. But backpacks are great to haul around extra stuff at airports, bus, and train stations, as long as the zippers are locked.
• Those suitcases that convert to backpacks? Yeah, no one uses them. I have several and have never used them as backpacks. Rick Steves said his company doesn't sell one anymore for that reason. But I can't begin to imagine a suitcase without wheels.
• Plan on your luggage getting smashed and being opened by TSA. Better to plan on it than be surprised.
• When suitcase shopping, thicker is not better. There were many places where our largish suitcases fit, but wouldn't have if they had been just an inch thicker. Everything is crowded and your time will be more pleasant if you're not angering every person whose knees you bash every time you walk down the aisle.
• Heed all the warnings about safeguarding your wallet and valuable documents, but you don't need to be psychotic about it - common sense is enough. A guy at the train station in Rome was begging for help to get his suitcases from Left Luggage because his wallet had been stolen and the claim ticket was in it. The place was busy and the people behind the counter were not making his life any easier. They asked where his wallet had been and he patted his now-empty back pocket. Any sympathy they may have had vanished with that admission. He told them, nicely if a little desperately, that if they didn't help him find his luggage quickly  (amid thousands of bags) he would miss his train. They shrugged.
• Before I left I bought fancy-pants laminated folding maps of the major cities we visited. I had fun looking at them in my compulsive zeal before I left, but didn't need them in Europe. The ubiquitous free maps available everywhere and handed out automatically at our hotels (and stores, train, subway, and bus stations) were better, newer, and easier to follow. And I could get several: one for each day because I discovered that helpful people tend to draw all over them when you ask them them directions. That was great, but I get confused easily so I was able to start clean every day.

More Europe trip posts

Beginning here and ending here. Vatican Museums, Bastille Day, and just one rude Parisian. I intend to have the all the trip posts done by the one-year anniversary of the trip.