Not quite as planned

When I got up Sunday morning I found a text message on my phone from Patrick: “What was the name of that dead guy?”

They had obviously reached Portbou by Sunday, and by the time I contacted Paddy they had also remembered that the “dead guy” was Walter Benjamin, and they had found his grave and put stones on it as a token of respect – one for me as well.

Several hours later Peter received a text message from Paddy announcing: “I just shook hands with Bobby McFerrin”. It seems that Bobby McFerrin was, in fact, the first person they met when they arrived in Barcelona, and Paddy was so impressed that he actually ran after him to talk to him and shake hands.

It was a promising beginning, but unfortunately things didn’t work out too well for them in Barcelona. Christopher called me yesterday morning, and just hearing his voice I immediately went straight through the ceiling in a blind panic. It seems his rucksack was stolen in Barcelona, when two guys involved the boys in a complicated discussion in Spanish, so that they didn’t notice the rucksack being taken until it was too late. Once I realized that no one was sick or injured and Christopher still had his passport, ticket and bank card, I calmed down a bit. Traveling without clothes, a sleeping bag, camping gear, or the guide book listing camp sites and youth hostels is inconvenient and replacement will be an additional cost that we didn’t need, but the only thing in Christopher’s rucksack that is truly irreplaceable was his notebook with all his texts for his music.

After some consultation it seems that the group decided to split up then, with Christopher and Paddy heading for England and the other three going on to Finland. When last heard from, they were all somewhere in the south of France, but Paddy and Christopher are trying to get to London. They called yesterday afternoon and asked me to book a ferry for them from Calais, where they were to arrive at 9:30 the next morning. It seemed like a reasonable plan to me, but it turned out to be not so simple ...

In fact, it is not possible for a 15-year-old and a 17-year-old traveling together by themselves to cross the English Channel by ferry. Anyone under 16 must be accompanied by someone over 18. I considered lying about their ages on the reservation form, since Christopher can easily pass for 20 at least, and Patrick neither looks nor behaves like a silly little kid, but I didn’t want to risk a problem when they had to show their passports. In the end, we were able to book a cheap flight for them, where their respective ages are not a problem, but the flight was from Brussels to London, so we had to communicate to them that they would have to go to Brussels, not to Calais, otherwise they wouldn’t make it to the airport in time. Since the charger for Christopher’s phone was also in his rucksack, he hasn’t been able to charge his phone, and Paddy’s is starting to run low now too, so they both had their phones off. That was nerve-wracking, since it was too risky to book the flight without telling them, but finally Peter heard from Paddy again, so it seems they are all set now.

If all goes well, they should be in London late this afternoon with Francis, so they can finally get some sleep and a decent bath without having to worry about everything else being stolen. Then I’m sure they will soon be on their way again, as despite this setback they seem to be enjoying their trip very much.

And they're off ...

Ready to go
Originally uploaded by aderieg

(More pictures here)

Over the past few days I have had some serious doubts about this trip, but they are on their way now. At 5:10 this morning Paddy, Christopher, Sascha, Alex and George were on the train together headed for the first stop of their three-week interrail trip: Venice.

We had something of a crisis on the weekend, when we went with Christopher and Paddy to the train station to buy their interrail passes, and it turned out that Sascha already had his – but starting 24 hours too early. However, we had the amazingly good fortune of finding exactly the right person in the right place at the right time: the young woman working at the information desk at the train station was enthusiastic, helpful, extremely competent, but also with a wonderful sense of humor and an ability to think creatively. That was necessary in our case. On Sunday we went back again to see her, because she had told us when she would be working, and Sascha, Alex and Seth went with us. She managed to change Sascha’s ticket, so that he, Christopher and Patrick would all be leaving on the same day on the same train going to the same place. This was no mean feat. Between Paddy-type mathematical calculations and all the boys trying to talk at the same time and the constant switching of languages, I would not have blamed her at all, if she had run away screaming in despair. Alex waited patiently until everything was sorted, so that he could buy his ticket in the end once we all knew how it was supposed to work. I had the feeling we almost lost the woman then, though, when she had all the forms and all the information and just needed Alex’ passport – and he handed her his British passport. After a few deep breaths, however, she dealt with even that glitch quite capably.

One source of confusion that afternoon was the fifth person in the group. We had explained to the woman from the beginning that there would be five boys traveling together, and there were five boys at the train station Sunday afternoon, but unhappily, Seth was not planning on being part of this trip and the fifth person, George, was unreachable. So every time the number five was mentioned, it set off yet another chorus of lamentations that Seth would not be part of the group and another round of consternation that George had unhelpfully disappeared. In the end, Peter and I just couldn’t live with this situation, so we took Seth aside and asked him whether he might be able to join the group if we bought an interrail pass for him. Unfortunately, he has a summer job that he seriously needs to keep, so he couldn’t just leave for three weeks.

How do five teenage boys prepare for a three-week tour of Europe by train? They spend hours arguing with one another about who has not communicated which information coherently and rejecting advice from concerned meddling parents. Naturally.

Yesterday afternoon, when I found Paddy and Sascha staring blankly at a video game (I think it is one that only Paddy can win, so no one else ever wants to play it with him – Sascha is not usually interested in video games), I could not begin to imagine how this would ever work. Then when they started practicing setting up and taking down their tents in the garden, however, I had the feeling they were actually beginning to look surprisingly competent. After that they started packing rucksacks. Sascha had already packed at home with his real family, who had left that morning for their holiday, so he and Paddy worked together on Paddy’s rucksack, while Christopher attempted to talk his belongings into organizing themselves in the other room. By the time Paddy and Sascha were finished, the total volume of his rucksack appeared to be equal to – if not greater than – the total volume of Paddy himself, just stretched sideways. Nevertheless, Paddy gave us an impressive demonstration of how agilely he could move with this wide load on his back and even did push-ups to prove that he could carry it. Once Christopher had finished negotiating with the limitations of space inside and attached to his rucksack, we all went off to Stern together for a good-bye drink.

When Paddy started fading, he and Sascha decided to go home, while Christopher and I stayed behind to talk a bit. When we got home around eleven, I expected to find Paddy and Sascha sound asleep with their alarm clocks set for 3:30 am. Instead I found them in front of the computer happily planning their trip with Google Earth, Wikipedia, various maps and a guide book to “Europe on a Shoestring”. Better late than never. Five hours before the train leaves is obviously the very best time to plan a detailed itinerary for a three-week tour of Europe.

Actually, it looks like a very good plan, and I am relieved to have a copy of it so that we have some idea of where they are likely to be at various points over the next three weeks. They even promised to stop in Portbou and visit the monument to Walter Benjamin there for me. This plan along with a list of at least my contacts in various cities makes me feel a bit more secure.

Peter was surprisingly cooperative about leaving early for the train station this morning (it is quite clear that this group doesn’t do “last minute rush”), and even though it took some time to get all three rucksacks to fit into the back of the car, we were there almost at the agreed time of 4:30 am in front of the information desk at the train station. That is, Christopher, Paddy, Sascha and Alex were all there, but there was no sign of George, and everyone had given up guessing whether he was actually going to make it or not. We waited for a while and then went to the platform together, and just as the train was announced, who should come strolling down the platform – George made it, at least onto the train.

About two hours after they left, I got a text message from Paddy that he had forgotten to take his braces that he still wears at night, so I checked their list and sent a message back to him that when they get to Barcelona he should call my friend there, whose number is on his list, I would send the braces by express mail to her. Sending the braces by express mail to Barcelona turned out to be staggeringly expensive, but at least we have proved that the plan works. So far.

I don’t think I got enough sleep to feel fully functional now myself, which makes me wonder how the boys are doing with no sleep at all. I still have this odd feeling that something is different, but I haven’t really grasped that they are gone yet. I think I will be glad when they are home again.

Seth and Paddy bake a cake

Seth and Paddy bake a cake
Originally uploaded by aderieg

For some mysterious reason, Paddy and Seth decided to bake a cake today.

There has been a lot of talk about cakes recently, because in the play "The Last Days of Humanity" that most of my household is involved in, there is a horrible scene where the "officers" eat cake as they sign execution orders, and while Sascha is being marched off to be executed, Alex is sent to fetch the cake. As all the extras have different responsibilities for props (Christopher is in charge of the prostheses), Alex is responsible for ensuring that cake is there every evening and that it is edible, because one of the "officers" does actually have to eat it. This has not always worked out very well. For that reason, there has been much discussion of cake among the extras that come and go at my house, and Sascha baked a cake himself that he brought to the performance the other night when I went again.

However, that was not the reason why Paddy and Seth decided to bake a cake today. They may know why, but to my knowledge no one else does.

For a long time, Paddy enjoyed decorating American style cakes, although he was less interested in the actual baking part, so he still has a lot of cake decorating supplies that Grandma, Amy and Kris sent to him over the years. Seth and Paddy together were surprisingly efficient (although I think it is mostly Seth, who is second only to Peter when it comes to household efficiency): they checked the recipes, went shopping for the missing ingredients, made a breathtaking mess in the kitchen and on the table, and finally ended up with a cake intriguingly decorated with a picture of a voodoo rag doll and no mess.

They stood for a moment rightfully admiring their work, and then Paddy said cheerfully, "Right, let's eat it then. Who wants a piece of cake?"

Everyone who was offered a piece of cake was a bit startled and questioned whether he really wanted to eat the cake immediately after going to so much trouble to make it. Paddy naturally asked, "Well what else should I do with it?" Naturally he took nice pictures of the cake to go into his collection (although I have no idea where his collection of cake and marzipan figure pictures is now), and it was not intended to be taken to the play, so eating it was the obvious thing to do.

That being the case, I made tea and we sat down together at the table to eat the cake. Once he actually had a knife in his hand, however, Paddy suddenly found it surprisingly difficult to cut into it after all. Eventually, though, we had cake with our tea, and it was very, very, very sweet. Since the recipe for the icing is written in Grandpa's handwriting, Paddy was thinking about how nice it would be to be able to share the cake with Grandpa, who would probably actually appreciate it, so Seth got hear all about Grandpa as we ate cake.

It is not a very big cake, but I somehow suspect that it is not going to disappear as quickly as cake usually disappears at our house. Nevertheless, it was an interesting way for Seth and Paddy to spend the day.

More pictures (just mine, not Paddy's) here