PAN's Flea Bag

I did it. I left. I packed my bag and returned to the part of the world where I was always at my happiest. I am now writing from Washington D.C. I have been here more times than I can keep track of, and in many ways it is always like coming home. I was not born here, and I have only spent a small part of my life living here, yet it has always felt like home to me. Ever since I first arrived. My first time in Washington D.C. was almost 8 years ago. That is what I want to talk about today; that day - December 7th, 2007 - when I first saw the white buildings of this incredibly fascinating city. I knew my life was going to change that day, but I didn't know exactly how much it would come to change me. Now, almost 8 years later, I see it more clearly than I have ever seen it before. This is a new beginning, but to fully embrace a new beginning, it is important to remember how the first new beginning actually began. That's what this is about. That day. December 7th, 2007.

 

I grew up in a small town in Sweden. My whole life, for as long as I can remember, I was fascinated by the English language. Some of my earliest memories are from watching the old Narnia movies on TV, and having my mom next to me - reading the subtitles out loud, since I couldn't understand what they were saying. I loved those movies. My mom also tells me that I "spoke" English at the age of 4 (pretend words, obviously, but according to myself - it was English) and that I always said that I wanted to travel. I wanted to go somewhere where they spoke English. That wish and desire stayed with me throughout my childhood and my teenage years. I tried to save up money to go to England for a language course, but it was ridiculously expensive, and I didn't want to ask my parents for money they might not have. Instead, I kept dreaming. I knew everything about language courses abroad, exchange years and volunteer opportunities, but with time I came to terms with the fact that it would have to wait. It would have to wait until the day I had enough money. And until I finished school.

 

Meanwhile, while waiting for the right time, I practiced my English. I was shy back then, so what I did was that I talked to myself. I walked to school, mumbling quietly, in English. If someone would have heard me, I bet they would have thought I was crazy. I can't say I would have blamed them. I don't remember what I used to mumble about, random things I suppose, but it helped me improve my pronunciation and my over-all language skills. This, however, went unnoticed in class, most likely due to my reluctance to speak in front of other people. I got B's, when what I wanted was A's. To me, getting a B was a slap in the face, and it felt like someone was telling me that I still wasn't good enough. I had never cared about grades, but I cared about my grades in English class. I ended up asking my teacher what she needed me to do in order to give me the grade I felt I deserved, I got a bunch of extra work, and in the end - I got my A. Score. It didn't really mean anything, but it meant something to me. It meant my hard work (and my mumbling) had paid off. I was ready for whatever was to come.

 

During my last year of secondary education, I knew that what I wanted to do was leave. Not because I didn't like where I was, because I did, I just knew I needed more. Something else. Something different. I sat down one day to try and figure out what I was good at and what I wanted to do. I wanted to go somewhere where they spoke English, I knew that much, and I wanted to do something that would make me feel good. That was when I started looking into Au Pair work. I had always loved kids, had had a couple of daycare summer jobs and I had managed to make my little cousin love me. That had to count for something? I loved kids, I wanted to speak English and I wanted to go somewhere far away. It was perfect. Within days I had signed up for an Au Pair program, and began the (rather long) application process. There were tons of forms and papers that needed to be filled out and signed, there were phone interviews, orientation meetings and background checks - so much to keep track of - but I didn't mind. I was walking on clouds. I got my driver's license (for the sole reason that the agency had told me that it would make it easier for me to find a family), I put together the perfect personal letter and made a little collage with pictures that I though represented me well. Then, after months of preparations, the agency informed me that I was ready to be matched with a potential Au Pair host family. Boom. Suddenly it was all so real. A family could call me at any time, from the US, wanting me to come be their new babysitter. I could be leaving in a month! Two months? ...Not at all? You see, days went by, and no one called. I kept being matched with families, families that would appear on my personal profile on the agency website, but that then, within hours, would be gone. They had said no. Asked to be matched with another Au Pair. Someone other than me. I had thought the easy part would be finding a family that wanted me, but as it turned out, I was wrong. After about a week, I called the agency to ask if I should change something in my applications, or if, perhaps, I was a hopeless case. I spoke to a very nice lady who assured me that there was nothing wrong with my application, and that the reason families had chosen to go with someone else was that they had either thought I was too young, or that they wanted someone who had had their driver's license for a little longer. There was nothing I could do, but wait. So I waited. And I waited.

 

Then, one day, I was matched with a family in Washington D.C. I read through their profile, discovering they had two kids, aged 3 and 5. Perfect, I remember thinking. I made sure not to get too attached, though, because based on the past week, it wasn't very likely that they would call. I was about to go out when I noticed another email in my inbox. I can't explain to you what it felt like to discover that it was written by the family whose profile I had just skimmed through. The email told me more about their family; that they lived in a cute little District neighborhood, close to the metro, and that they might get a dog at some point during the next year. It also said that they thought I might be a perfect fit for them, and that they would like to call me for an interview. ...I am not going to lie - I think I probably cried. Here was this family, saying I sounded perfect for them, when in fact, they were the ones sounding perfect for me. What were the odds?

 

We kept emailing after that, and we spoke on the phone the next day. I happened to be babysitting my cousin when they called, which, I figured, gave me some extra points. When they asked if I would consider coming to Washington D.C a couple of weeks later, I did not hesitate. Not even for a second. "We can wait until after Christmas, otherwise," they said, but I told them I would have happily come on that same day, had it been possible. ...Okay, perhaps I didn't say that, but it was how I felt. I was ready to start a new life somewhere else.

 

Two and a half weeks later, once having received my J1 Visa, I left Scandinavia for the first time in my life. I had said goodbye to my family, leaving them feeling a lot sadder about my departure than I was feeling, and I had taken the train to the airport in Stockholm. It was an 8 hour train ride, and I happened to cross paths with one of my old teachers. He was very happy for me. At the airport, I met up with some other girls who would also be flying across the pond to start their new lives as Au Pairs. Some of the girls were experienced travelers, they had been to the States several times before and for them it didn't seem like such a big deal. To me, it was huge. My biggest dream was about to come true, and while they talked about all the shopping opportunities there would be in New York City, I thought about the friends I might make. I also thought about what it would be like to order food at McDonald's, in English, and how great it would be to see all the street signs written in English. I was on my way to an English speaking country, where I wouldn't have to mumble anymore, but where I would get to use that language I loved so much every single day. The other girls didn't seem to have the same priorities, but they were nice, and it was great to have someone showing me how to get to our connecting flight at the Reykjavik airport. I had only flown once before.

 

I will never forget what it was like to fly in over New York City. All I could think was that I had made it. I was there. In the US. I had actually managed to fulfill my dream, and no matter what would come to happen later, nobody could take that away from me. It was as if I had left the old me at home, in Sweden, and stepped into the new me. The real me. I spent a few days at a "training school" with a 100 other Au Pairs, before finally getting on a bus that would take me to my new home in Washington D.C. I don't remember much from that 4 hour bus trip, other than that I got incredibly car sick. Charming, I know. The other people on the bus got off along the way. Someone got off in New Jersey, others in Philadelphia, some in Baltimore... in the end I was almost the only one left. I wasn't nervous. The other me, the one I had left in Sweden, would have been so nervous she might have died, but I was okay. Just car sick. The bus dropped us off outside the Montgomery Mall in Bethesda, and that's where the family came to pick me up. The family, the one I was hoping to live with for a year. Funny as it was, I felt I already knew them, somehow. They greeted me with big smiles and brought me to their house. As we drove from Maryland and into Washington D.C - I just knew I was home. I had never felt like that before, but I knew I had found the place where I belonged.

 

.......... That was almost 8 years ago. Now I am here again. I have been back for a couple of months every year since the day that I left, making my total time in D.C a lot longer than just that one year I was initially planning on staying. This is my home. It doesn't matter where I go or for how long I stay away, because when it comes down to it, it is when I beep my SmartTrip card and walk down the metro escalator that feel I have finally come home. This time I also flew into JFK in New York, just like the first time that I came, and I took that 4 hour bus trip again. Arriving in D.C, I went straight to the same family that picked me up on December 7th, 2007. Their kids are no longer 3 and 5, and they don't need an Au Pair anymore. Those same kids are now taller than I am, funnier than I am, and a hell of a lot smarter than I will ever be. They are also my friends. I am incredibly lucky for having them in my life, and for being able to call them my second family. My second family, that live here, in my self-chosen home town. I was not born here, but this is where I feel at home. I am back now. I am home.