Daddy's Here

My Dad came to visit and we went through our usual whirlwind of activity, bouncing from Frankfurt to Göttingen to Köln and back to Frankfurt, we've done in three days what most would consider a fairly decent tour of northern (or something) Germany. I've seen a cathedral, a chocolate factory, the Rhine and the Main and even a leather skinned old man with a talent for the accordion.

Something as simple as sharing a delicious döner with my old man has proved as fun as topping out at 126 mph on the autobahn. We've had some fun moments and some pretty tense ones. While I chuckled away, my father nearly sweat out his shirt while maneuvering his rental car through a 40 point turn in the second smallest alley in the history of man (I'm allowing a little room for the fact that I have done zero research) after a fifteen minute search for a parking spot. Later, in the comfort of our not so big hotel room, I discovered the camera we had purchased only a few hours ago was not actually in the box. This time my Dad joined my in a laugh, though he was surely less than amused and I had reached a point where I saw that nothing else could be done.

Even so, I have found the simple act of spending time with a loved one can lighten moments of annoyance and coax the sun out, even from behind the stubborn clouds in Germany.

Traveling to another country is a tremendous opportunity to force yourself to grow up. College provides the same sort of process, but in a much more gradual manner. Freshman year the classes are easier, there are events specifically geared toward helping you adjust to college life, there’s even an entire course dedicated to your transition and development. Sophomore year, the classes are a little harder, you are more involved in different organizations and you’re no longer stumbling around in the college world. By junior year you can be a leader on campus, you’re taking upper level academic courses, making connections in the business world and beginning to work towards your individual future. By senior year, you’re nearly running your life on your own, both making arrangements for what is to follow and taking on the responsibilities that come with being the most experienced class on campus.

When you’re in another country, all of that must happen, but it comes in fits and starts, sometimes gradual and sometimes jarringly sudden and unexpected. No one is there to prod you into finding an apartment, but there is also no one present who would let you sleep on their couch until you do. Getting to work is your affair and you must muddle through a foreign language and a transportation system all together unfamiliar to you. You have to pick up necessary parts of the language and stumble through mumbled orders and silent exchanges of cash for groceries. All this is, of course, expected. The real challenges come with the things that surprise you. The most recent example of this, and the most clear to me, is an experience I recently had.

I have a laptop named Artemis. She is neither sleek and new, nor old and clunky. We have been together since my senior year in high school and have witnessed, together, the ups and downs of college life. There have been a few frightening moments when she decided she didn’t need to turn on when I wanted her to, or when she thought it might be fun to misplace my English paper, but all in all our partnership has been solid and productive. I thought it would continue in that same way, as she had exhibited no signs of fatigue or infection, even when I ran the antivirus and security software that have kept her safe for the last two years.

One night, when in the middle of three rather important conversations on a chat program, the screen flashed, the fan whirred, and I found myself bathed in the horrifying glow of, what is often called in the tech world, a Blue Screen of Death. I have often heard of these occurrences and the misfortune they had brought upon my fellow human beings, but I had been careful to treat my computer like a lady. I thought she would have at least have the decency to fail on me when I was still in America.

I was suddenly faced with the responsibility of fixing a problem which, in itself, is beyond my general means of comprehension, this time with the added obstacle of language barriers and Dell company policy. There was also the small matter of my ever present discomfort with phone conversations. I could do my best to solve the problem myself, or I could succumb to fears and live completely disconnected from the world. There was too much I was responsible for, and too many people I needed to communicate with for be to accept the latter.

In the end, the solution turned out to be much simpler than I had anticipated. A kind colleague helped me navigate the Dell call in process, for which I am entirely grateful, as I would have been able to do nothing more than stare dumbly at the talking box while the automated voice instructed me to press one, two or three. Of course, not all miracles happen in a day and I was forced to yield to the company policy I once thought was in place to help me in times of need. A two week delay would be placed on any help I might receive as I had to apply for an international warranty transfer, which I had been previously instructed I would not need.

Now, I have worked with my boss to find a temporary replacement from the IT department, have taken the necessary steps to have my information transferred and arranged everything with back up plans and options galore. I take a large amount of pride in how I handle the situation. It might just be a computer failure and a phone call to some, but the person I was a few years ago would have given up on the entire process completely and contented herself with writing letters and hoping to find a spare minute on a desktop at work. I have grown since then, and I hope to continue growing every day.