Taxing

So, when you live abroad, taxes are a nightmare.  Last year I had some income from the US and most of my income from Spain.  Figuring out how much I owe the US government (considering I pay about 25% tax here) is super confusing.

Know what's not confusing?

Paying taxes in Spain.

Here's how it worked:  I made an appointment online yesterday and went in to the office (5 minutes from my house) this morning.  I got there and took a number.  There was one person in front of me, so I waited about 2 minutes.  I handed the woman my income statement from my current workplace and from the University here where I taught a master's class, my rent statements from last year, a copy of my residency card, and a copy of my passport.  She spent 5 minutes talking to me about my work and how I liked Spain while she plugged numbers into her magic machine.  She then announced I was getting a huge refund, which would be deposited in my account by the end of the week.  Complete magic!!

The woman there was helpful, patient, and really interesting, and I was in and out of the office in less than 15 minutes.  I don't know of a single government office in the US that can manage that.  In spite of it's reputation of being inefficient (and the whole socialism business), things get done so easily here, it makes me wish I could take some of this back to the US.

Running

I've been running now for about 3 weeks.

And I hate it.

And also love it.

I'm pretty terrible at running and have never been an athlete.   And I hate it because every time I go, I'm convinced I'm going to die.  I'm doing the Couch to 5K program, which consists of running and walking intervals (increasing the amount you run each week).  Every running interval, I dread, and think "there's no way I will finish this!"

But here's the thing.  I never actually die.  And I finish every running interval (and could probably keep going).  I don't LIKE the feeling of running and I'm slow as dirt, but I do like feeling smug.  And running allows me to feel smug when I'm done.  And honestly, smug when I'm running and I pass anyone (even if they're walking).  I'm smug when I'm done because I didn't die.  And I managed to run.

Hopefully, I can keep this up until I'm able to run a 5K without much problem.

Stay tuned for the story of my tax appointment.

Same old everything

I've been quiet because I've been waiting for nearly a month on some job news.  I'ms till waiting, but my brain is full of "life in Spain" thoughts.

I've now been here for over 13 months.  I've been in my new apartment for almost two months.  I have a new residence card that doesn't expire until 2014.  All of which is weird, since I'd hoped to be planning my (permanent) trip home (or at least to the US) by now.  Instead, I'm faced with the prospect of another summer in Donostia.  There are worse things, of course, and worse places to spend the summer than by the sea.  But I'm ready to go home.

I can tell I've been here for a while because nothing is a surprise anymore.  Today, my bus stopped at the stop before mine, and the driver announced that we all had to get off.  It turns out there was some sort of march or protest near my office, and the bus couldn't drive us to our normal stop.  So, my normal 15 minute walk to work from the bus turned into a 30 minute walk.  But that's just a typical day here.

Hopefully, I'll be back soon with good news ...

1 year

As I alluded to earlier, I've been here for a year today.  A year right about this time, actually.  

I've been trying to think about what this year has been like and how I feel about today.

The answer, like most things in my life, is that it's complicated.   This year has somehow managed to be simultaneously the fastest and slowest year of my life.  I can't believe I've already been here for a year ... and I can't believe I've ONLY been here for a year.  I'm really proud of how less scary everything is than when I first stepped into this apartment.  But I'm still pretty scared about trying to figure out what the future holds for me ... and when I'll get back to the US.  

I'm happy I'm here and I wish I were home at the same time.  I spent the night in my new apartment last night, and will say goodbye to this apartment for good in just a few hours.  And I'll be able to say I lived in Spain for more than a year ... Hopefully not much more though.  If you're of the praying persuasion, I can definitely use some that a couple of my plans in the works will come to fruition, and I can enjoy the next couple of months in Spain knowing I'll go back to the US soon.

----

A quick story about the big move yesterday.  I have somehow accumulated a lot of stuff since I've been here (a lot of it won't be coming back to the States with me, like bathroom and kitchen stuff), but I had a ton of junk to move.  A friend of a friend offered use of his (small) car at the last minute.  So at 10 pm, my friend and I hauled my stuff to the lobby, with a plan to do two car loads.  But Basques are nothing if not industrious and with a little fancy wiggling, and me jamming into the back under the thing covering his trunk that we had to remove and relocate for the mile long ride down the hill, we made it in one load.  So the whole move, door-to-door took less than 45 minutes.  Well, almost the whole move, as today I have to move cleaning supplies, two trash cans and a whole bunch of hangers.  And, I'm really, really happy that the next time I move will be back to the US.

Things I'm Not Good At

The number one thing I am not good at is leaving.  Even if I'm not happy about where I am, leaving is always hard.  Even moving from my apartment in Evanston (which was not an easy or fun place to live) into Peter's house was hard.  So I'm not too surprised that leaving here is also hard.  And sad.  Even though moving in here was not a particularly happy part of my life, it was a part of my life.  And saying goodbye to it is not so fun.  But.  I have a signed lease.  Keys.  And a car to help me move out tonight.  So after a good mop of the floor tomorrow, I will bid my studio apartment adieu for a smaller, but cozier and better located 1 bedroom apartment.  Pictures to come.

Moving, but not moving on

I'm nearing the anniversary of my move here to Spain (probably more on that later this week), and as a result, I have to move out of my apartment.  The leases for this building were intended to be only for a year at a time, so on Tuesday I'm signing a lease for my new apartment.

First, the good part.  This new apartment is in an ideal location.  It's the perfect size for me (small), and is in good shape with nice landlords, etc.  Hopefully, within a week or so, I'll have a more functioning internet system than I do in this building, which will mean easier communications home.  The bad part?  I have to pack up my stuff, and it's not for a move back to the US.  I always knew this was a possibility, but I had really, really hoped I'd be heading home around now.  Or at least have a more solid plan for next year.  I'm working hard on a few options to get me back to the States this summer, but nothing is in place yet.  And as everyone knows, I am not good at living a life in flux.  I really want a plan.  Yesterday.  But, for now, I'm packing up and moving on.  Knowing the next time I do it will be for home.  And that's a good feeling I can hold on to for a while.

A funeral, a sprained ankle, a sick kitty, and 11000 miles

This week was unbelievably, incredibly long. And I am unbelievably, incredibly exhausted and on a plane with 6 hours to kill before I land in Frankfurt.

Here is my list of laments for the week, followed by some attempt at a little joy to counterbalance the laments:

- The whole reason I flew back was for my grandma's funeral. Under the best circumstances, funerals are a huge drag, but this one hit me hard, like a punch in the stomach. It was partially jet lag, partially the last minute planning (which I am not a huge fan of), and mostly the fact that even though I've been trying to prepare for this for at least 10 months, I was woefully, woefully not prepared. I am amazingly lucky that I made it to 29 with all of my grandparents around, that all of them came to my wedding, and that they all have had such a great impact in my life. But it felt like a punch in the stomach for two straight days.
- Upon returning to Chicago, we discovered our cat w really, really sick. After a number of phone calls and emails, we discovered it was a kidney infection, requiring a doubling in the number and frequency of her usual daily meds. Which Pete has to do on his own since I'm heading back to Europe now.
- When we discovered poor sick kitty, I decided to try to coax her down the stairs. Backwards. Then I started to turn. And managed to step sideways on my ankle. Really sideways. Ad my ankle ended up being about the size of a tennis ball in 3 minutes. A little ice, a little elevation ... And a doctor's visit the next day, diagnosed me with a "moderate sprain" and has landed me with a still swollen, incredibly bruised, sore ankle.
- I'm still not sure where I'm living in two weeks or what my life is going to look like in 3 months. No stress there at all.

But in happier news,
- I have wifi on my plane. And in seat entertainment. And an empty seat next to me to prop my foot up on.
- I have some ideas and plans for how my life might look in a few months. And have been assured by the amazing people I know and love in Spain that I will not be homeless.
- I have visitors in 4 days! And might be traveling in a week and a half.
- I got to celebrate my grandma's life, with my family, and had a few stolen moments with my parents and with Pete, that are nothing less than a gift. So I'm grateful for that.

And honestly, I would take ten plane trips across the ocean in a week ... I would lose days of sleep ... I would twist my ankle ... Deal with all of the stuff so I could be with my family for the moments this week. So that's, that.

Tomorrow will be back to regularly scheduled drama, complete with exhaustion, house hunting in Spanish, and all the other usual my-crazy-Spanish-life business.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:30000 feet in the air

Home again, home again

I flew back from Chicago on Monday, and am heading back to the US now (Saturday). I wasn't planning this, but hopefully, it will kick me in the pants to post a little more.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Somewhere over the Atlantic ....

I dream in Spanish.

Or at least I DID dream in Spanish.  Twice.  Last week.  Or at least I SPOKE Spanish in my dreams, and people talked back.  One of the dreams also included a conversation in French which was REALLY weird since I've spoken almost no French since September aside from the odd phrase or two to my French and Belgian co-workers.

I woke up totally disoriented because dreaming in Spanish is weird.  It was sort of like moving here all over again.  Once I got over being disoriented, I realized how far I've come.  I'm finishing level B1 in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages in the next couple of weeks.  I can now write essays in Spanish, hold conversations on most topics in Spanish, and generally negotiate my way through the world.  A year ago I could barely put a sentence together.  I wouldn't have been able to pass the A1 test, so I feel pretty good zipping through to B1.

The problem is that there's still so much that's so hard.  Sometimes I wish I did work in Spanish, so I'd have more opportunities to practice.  That said, most of my work is writing (which has to happen in English) or data analysis which happens mostly in numbers and is devoid of language.  So, I'm not sure how much it would help me anyhow.

The best time to practice Spanish is actually in my daily Basque class.  I'm pretty sure I'm learning more Spanish than Basque in those classes, but that's not a bad thing.  I can now put together extremely stupid sentences in Basque.  Things like "You live in the big red house, but your parents live in the small white house."  Very useful in every day life, as you can see.  Basque is satisfying my inner linguistics-nerd because there are a lot of really interesting "language-y" things about it.  The good thing about the class, though, isn't so much the fact that I'm learning a few words in Basque and how to construct basic sentences, but rather that I'm negotiating the class in Spanish.  So I'm asking my questions in Spanish.  Trying to negotiate the class without English as the intermediary between Spanish and Basque.  And while it's hard, it's SO much easier than doing this in October.

As are most things, honestly.  Small talk with the cashier at the grocery store about the new machines for credit cards, eavesdropping on the teenagers on the bus talk about how their moms won't let them buy a certain style of pants, and tomorrow will be the ultimate test.  I'm going with our secretary to renew my residence card.  Mostly, I'm renewing it because I can get a 2 year renewal and being a resident in Europe has certain benefits (like free healthcare whenever I travel to Europe, easier times in Customs and Immigration in all of the EU countries, etc.).  But, the last time I went to administrative offices, I understood next to nothing.  I'm hoping tomorrow, I'll understand more and be able to talk more for myself.  I feel like the commitment I've made to learning the language has really helped me professionally (hopefully, it will result in more possibilities on the job market), but also it's been a really great personal endeavor.  Mostly because I'm not great at it.  And usually when I'm not great at something, I just don't do it.  I've had it pretty easy being good at most things I like or need to do.  School was easy for me.  Music was pretty easy for me.  And while I was happy to work hard, if I wasn't good at something, I just didn't do it.  But now, Spanish is NOT easy for me and I'm not particularly good at it naturally (a point that is made painfully clear every time I need to spontaneously do something like call a restaurant where I left my scarf), but I'm trying very, very much to get better at it.  And slowly, I'm seeing some green shoots come out of the little language garden I've planted.  It's a long way from being a real flower, but it's a start.

My language endeavors have not been sufficient to negate my tendency to worry about things I have no control over, but I'm starting to get better.  I'm renewing my efforts to only worry about things I have control over, trying to focus more on making myself a little bit more relaxed and happier.  And with the beautiful weather here the past three or four days, I'm also reminded that I need to enjoy the life I'm living, right now.  Spring is right around the corner, and I'm hopeful this is true metaphorically as well.

Nothing says "Happy Monday" ...

... like being greeted on your morning bus by a guy in blackface.

Obviously, this requires a little explanation.  We've been celebrating Carnavales around these parts (aka Mardi Gras).  While technically yesterday was Carnaval, the Spanish need to have many days for their fiestas, so the festivities began on Thursday night.  Carnaval involves dressing up and drinking.  Imagine a 6 day Spanish Halloween, and you've got it about right.

So, here's the complication.  The most popular costumes this year were ethnic stereotypes.  Tons of costumes of Native Americans.  Tons of people dressed up as Muslims, Arabs more generally speaking, Chinese, Mexicans ... and this is where the blackface comes in.  There were tons ... tons ... tons ... of people wearing blackface.  Kids, adults, broad daylight.

Issues of race are particularly fraught here.  There's not a lot of diversity in Spain, so I think people don't realize what the issues are.  But, it's really, really striking to see something that would be looked upon with disdain in the US.  It was particularly strange to see men in drag AND blackface on the front page of the website for the newspaper in town (and they were dressed as Whitney Houston in a casket and mourners.  Super classy).

I really don't know how I feel about all of this.  I understand that there's very little diversity, but I also feel like when behavior like this is sanctioned (or at least not looked down upon), they're choosing to keep themselves sequestered in an environment that means that they will never achieve racial equality.  It's particularly strange since gay marriage is legal here.  It seems like a sort of mirror image of the issues in the US, where there are plenty of racial issues - but blackface is never okay, yet gay rights are more controversial in many ways.

I'm thinking more about it, so there may be more musings to come.  In the meantime, stay tuned for a language skills update shortly.

Time

I lose time every time I fly back from the US.  Technically, I lose 6 or 7 hours, depending on where I'm flying from, but in reality it feels like I lose days.  And simultaneously like time stops.

I left for the airport Saturday afternoon, Eastern Standard Time, or late Saturday night Central European Time.  I got to Frankfurt at 8:30 Sunday morning (European time) or roughly the middle of the night in the US.  I then had a 12 hour layover in Frankfurt, part of which was spent sleeping in a hotel which has day rates.  My flight was delayed for an hour out of Frankfurt, which put my layover at more like 13 hours.  I just checked into my hotel in Bilbao at nearly midnight Spain time or early evening in the US.  And I have no clue what time it is.  Leaving the US feels like it was ages ago.  At least several days, maybe a week.  At the same time, I don't feel like any time has passed.  If you told me that what actually happened while flying was that you entered a time warp, I'd probably believe you.

The end result of all of this is that I'm exhausted and hungry and need to relax, but sort of can't yet.  So starts my week of jet lag.  Hopefully, I can figure out time again sooner than later.

Flying

I'm flying again, though this time for reasons unblog-able and not for my usual "I get to go see my husband!  And my cat!  And eat non-Spanish food!  And walk around carrying coffee!!" reasons.  I will still get to eat non-Spanish food, so I suppose that is a win.

But this trip is more stressful and less joyful than normal.  I'm already exhausted, and I know it's just started.  The exhaustion is not really my fault.  My flight today left Bilbao at 6:50.  In the morning.  Which meant I got to the airport when they opened at 6.  Which meant I had to be up around 5.  And going to sleep around midnight**, that left me with 5 hours of sleep at the start of a very, very long few days.  When I rolled out of bed at 5, little did I know the fun was just beginning.  I headed down to the lobby - all my stuff in tow at around 5:30, so I could grab breakfast and catch whatever shuttle departure happened between 5:45 and 6.  The airport is 5 minutes from the hotel, so I figured I could cut things a little close.   I was anxious to get this show on the road though, since I am not flying my usual Iberia-everyone-shows-up-late-including-the-pilot-and-crew airline.  Instead I am flying on a German airline, so I assumed (correctly) an on-time departure.

I was minding my own business, digging into my croissant and yogurt and various meat and cheese products that they laid out in the "pre-breakfast" buffet, when four super-drunk Basque guys stumbled in. At first, the demanded a drink at the hotel bar from the poor front-desk guy.  When he said he couldn't serve them, but they could have breakfast, they stumbled over to the buffet.  They were thinking about food and then started chucking rolls at each other.  Then they progressed to the canned peaches.  When I got hit with one, I decided it was time to get out of dodge and headed out to my shuttle.  The driver was loading my suitcase in the van, when we heard some screaming and shouting from inside.  So the driver ordered me to get in the van and then locked me in.  Which was good because it turns out the drunk dudes were throwing punches in the lobby and the tiny front-desk guy was trying to break up the fight.  So my driver was a bigger guy and headed in to try to break up the fight.  The fight then spilled out into the parking lot and there was more screaming in Basque and punching.  Then (this is why it's good the van was locked), a dude tried to get into the driver's seat.  Eventually, they got tired of fighting and the police came and my driver was able to drive me to the airport.  But not without cutting it sort of close.  I made my flight, and hopefully my bags did too!  The Spanish gate attendant was not even remotely concerned about it, but we'll see when I get to baggage claim, I guess.

My flight to Frankfurt was uneventful, though seemed really long (largely because it was not the quick 45 minute hop from Bilbao to Madrid.  Anyhow, I'm going to try to relax and enjoy the Frankfurt airport as much as I can before my flight leaves in just under 3 hours.  I'm hoping beyond hope for a little sleep before I land, since I'm sure I can use the relaxation.

** I TRIED to go to bed at 10, but when you are used to staying up late, and you're stressed and anxious, and you're already not the World Champion Sleeper, sleep is not easy to come by.

Sad

At Christmas Eve Mass, Father Rick started his homily by singing "Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord" from Godspell.

All of a sudden, in the middle of the church, I was tearing up.  The memory struck me the way they do on TV shows.  You close your eyes and flash back to the moment that you first heard something or first did something, and your senses are overwhelmed by remembering things exactly as they were.

When I was a junior in high school, I was in our school musical, Godspell.  I loved theatre ... not as much as I loved violin, but I really, really loved to sing.  And I loved to perform, and I loved to hang out with my friends.  And Godspell was this perfect storm of everything I loved.  Every rehearsal, I loved that show.  I was insanely busy then - the same weekend of the show was the state competition for another group I was in (Future Problem Solving - long story).  We finished the show one night, we drove to Ann Arbor at the crack of dawn the next day, competed, and I came home for the show that night.  It turns out we did well in the competition, placing in the state for the first (and only time) in my 8 years of competing.  I was competing in a million things, taking a thousand lessons, and while I loved it all, that show was like a little haven.  It wasn't the only show I did in high school, but it was easily my favorite.  I got to sing the best song in the show which ended with incredibly high notes that lasted forever.  I got to play a number of silly, funny, and beautiful characters.  I loved it.

I always thought of theatre as a side project in my life, but Godspell takes up a big piece of the forefront of my high school memories.  I remember working on the sets and costumes.  I remember exactly what I wore in that show and how great it felt to wear the costume every night.  I remember climbing the onstage scaffolding at the end of my song and standing over everyone's heads as I got to sing with pure joy.  I remember losing my voice for our last performance and whispering almost everything until I got to my solo, in hopes of having some voice remaining.  I remember all the words to all the songs, and a fair bit of the dialog too.  More than any other play or musical, this one made a mark on me that has yet to fade 12 years later.

Our director always wanted me to do more theatre, but theatre took up a lot of time and was hard to do in conjunction with everything else I did.  He wasn't always the easiest person to work for because he demanded a lot from us, but he led us in what always ended up being joyful experiences.

Today, he passed away unexpectedly.  The news hit me harder than I would have guessed it would.  And, since I'm pretty sure I never told him thank you for all of the joy he let us experience singing, dancing and playing on stage, I figured I would say it here:

Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me those opportunities, those chances to do something I truly loved to do.  Thank you for teaching me well.  I really, really appreciate it.

La Sociedad

The boyfriend of a friend of mine is a member of a sociedad** here.  Basically, it is a members-only organization that has access to a communal kitchen and a large dining room.  The sociedades tend to be male-only in terms of membership, and historically, only men were allowed in at all.  Of course, times have changed, so Friday 10 of us were invited over to cook at the Sociedad.

Only 3 people (including the member) are allowed in the kitchen at a time, so we had to cook in shifts.  But overall it was a ton of fun.  Not just eating our meal, but also watching everyone else eat and cook.  We had pintxos to start, then huge salads, huge merluza (hake), risotto, revuelto de hongos (sort of scrambled eggs with fancy marinated mushrooms), quiche, flan, mini-cheesecake things, fruit, etc. etc.   It was all delicious, and we all ate a disgusting amount of food.

But most of all it was really, really fun.  I laughed harder than I have in weeks.  Then, yesterday was another friend of mine's boyfriend's birthday.  So another dinner.  And more fun and laughing.  And lots of Spanish people singing tons of songs.

And then today was unfairly gorgeous.  Nearly 60 degrees and sunny and fantastic.  So I went for a long walk and was really grateful for this weekend and for my time here.  While it's sometimes frustrating, and while I always miss Pete, I'm also really happy to live this life right now.  So weekend 1 of "appreciate what I have" is officially a success.



You can read more about sociedades on wikipedia here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Txoko.  They're apparently called txokos in Basque, but no one really calls them that.

**Note:  Sociedad should not be confused with Real Sociedad, the fútbol team here.

A New Year

I have a bunch of professional resolutions this year.  There are things I really want to change in my attitude and performance regarding my job.  But I also have a few personal things I want to try to be better at.  Since I'm a sucker for accountability, I'll write them here and check in occasionally on how I'm doing.

- Eat better and move more.  Peter and I say the best diet plan is "Eat less s*** and move your a**".  I'm not really feeling the need to diet, but I do want to try to reduce the amount of garbage I eat even more than I have since moving to Spain.  I walk a TON here, but I also want to purposefully carve out space for actual cardio exercise that leaves me sweating and strength training/pilates work.  I feel better when I do it, so I need to be consistent about it.  Once there's daylight for hours besides when I am at work, I also want to try to start running so Pete and I can run a 5k.  We'll see how that goes.

- Worry only about things I can control.  If I can't control it, I don't get to worry about it.  Either it will happen or it won't and worrying about it only causes me stress.  Those things I can control, I can worry about, but only if I'm taking actionable steps to get the outcome I want.  So I'm allowed to worry about job applications while I'm sending them in, or job interviews while I prepare for them.  But I am not allowed to worry about the decisions the committees make while the application is out of my hands.  Either they like me enough to interview or hire me or they don't.  Either there's a job in academia for me this year, or there's not.  If there's not, I'll figure things out at that point, but no worrying until this point.  This is a really, really important one for me.  Worrying about jobs, getting a job in the US, when I will be able to live in the same place as Pete again has taken up tons of my mental energy while living in Spain.  Sometimes, it's gotten in the way of me enjoying the fact that I live in a beautiful city in an interesting country with great people and have a great job.  I need to focus more on being grateful for that ... which leads me to the final resolution.

- Be happy for what I have instead of lamenting what I don't.  Sure, I'd love a tenure-track job in Chicago where I could be with Pete and Sophie all the time.  But I don't have that.  Instead, I have a great job that I love and that I'm good at where I learn new things every day, and get to have this crazy ridiculous adventure.  I have a husband who supports me.  I have a whole lot more than a lot of people and I want to try to just be more peaceful with that instead of always wanting more.  I don't want to be one of those people who is never satisfied ...

So that's the plan.  Hopefully I can be a little bit better about these goals every day.  I'll keep you posted.

Raising the stakes

More to come soon, I promise.

In the interim, I will tell you that I managed to commit myself to five 90 minute Spanish classes a week and four 60 minute Basque classes a week.  My second (actually second and fifth, if you count French as my second and Russian as my fourth) language acquisition will be getting quite the workout for the next few months.  

I'm excited about this as I've already seen the change in pace in our Spanish class by cutting our class from 4 students to 2.  Increasing the frequency will only help me learn more.  I am so, so, so impatient.  I'm impatient to get a job.  I'm impatient to get back home.  I'm impatient to be able to communicate how I want to communicate (not fits and starts, trying to remember the imperfect tense or subjunctive mood of a particular verb).   I'm impatient for everything.  And part of my New Year's resolution is increasing my patience.  Or at least doing something about it when I can change the outcome.  So here is my change.  I've committed myself to research on language (either my research at work or learning the language) from 8am to 7:30pm Monday through Friday.  Here's hoping it pays off.

From Madrid-Barajas (as usual)

I am sitting at the lovely Madrid airport, exhausted as usual here.  I had an incredibly great trip home and will post about that trip and some resolutions probably later today or tomorrow.  For now, I'm trying to force myself to stay awake until my flight boards at 11:30.  I should get back to my apartment around 3:30 which will mean I've been up for right around 24 hours straight.  I'll take a little nap, unpack, and probably hang out with some friends a little bit this evening.  Then I'll head to bed nice and early (hopefully around 10).  I'm hoping I can deal with jet lag better this time than last (when it took me over 10 days to feel back to normal, and I also got sick).  My flights in both directions were packed with study abroad kids which is a really interesting population to fly with.  I'll leave this short post with the following anecdote:

I have been mistaken for a study abroad student myself 4(!) times today. This means that people think I am 20, which is flattering, but really weird too.