Bradbury - My grape year: a memoir

CHAPTER 1

RULES FOR 199091 OUTBOUND EXCHANGE STUDENTS THE FOUR D s

No Drinking

No Drugs

No Driving

No Dating

By signing this contract, I hearby accept my role as Ursus Youth Ambassador for the 199091 exchange year abroad and agree to abide by all four of the Rules for Exchange Students.

The other outbound exchange students around me were scribbling their signatures on the forms.

No Drinking . I knew I was heading to Europe, Switzerland if everything went according to plan, and even though I was drawn by the history and beauty and exoticism, I was also hoping to be able to enjoy a nice glass of beer or wine from time to time. I was seventeen and was graduating from high school in three short months, so I hoped they wouldnt take this rule too seriously in what my grandmother always referred to as the old country.

No Drugs . I seriously doubted that marijuana was as ubiquitous in Europe as it was on Vancouver Island, Canada, where it self-seeded in many peoples back gardens. And since I had no intention of ever trying any other type of drug, this rule wasnt an issue.

No Driving . It would be weird to no longer be able to drive nor enjoy the independence that came with that. Still, like many Canadians, I knew how to drive only an automatic and didnt like traffic very much, so I could live with this rule.

No Dating . This rule bothered me the most. It had just been explained to us that as Ursus Youth Ambassadors we would have to be available and open to all people we encountered during our year abroad. Having an exclusive romantic relationship would interfere with that goal. Also, the Ursus Club hosting us would be responsible for our welfare during our year in their country, and that would be far simpler to ensure when we students remained single. I could see the logic of it all, but my romantic life during my high school years had been seriously disappointing, if not to say practically nonexistent. My heart longed for romance and love.

Still, I felt like the whole world was out there waiting for me, and I needed to take the step to meet it. If that meant signing this contract, then I would do whatever it took.

I picked up my pen and signed my name.

T he men s polyester pants were off-gassing in the stuffy hotel room. The scorched smell of synthetic fabric tickled my nostrils. March was generally a cool month in Victoria, so the hotel staff hosting the annual Ursus District Convention hadn t anticipated the heat wave. The Rotary and Lions Clubs, similar community service organizations, had recently begun to welcome female members, which I was sure lessened the polyester quotient. Ursus, though, stubbornly remained a men-only group, aside from their female International Youth Exchange Ambassadors like me.

A makeshift fan had been unearthed and stuck in the corner of the room, but sweat trickled inside my navy wool blazer, which had already been festooned with at least forty pins. Pins were the currency of the incoming and outgoing exchange students and were traded with the fervor of stocks on Wall Street.

The interview was almost over, thank God. If they liked me, I would get the final confirmation that I would be spending the 19901991 academic year as an exchange student in what I hoped would be my first choice of host country, Switzerland. There was only one available spot in Switzerland, and it was contested hotly every year. Belgium, my second choice, was better than nothing. Germany was my third choice , but I knew I definitely didn t want to end up in Germany. I d never found blond men attractive, and I vastly preferred wine to beer. It was a crime that Italy, France, and Spain weren t options. I could completely envision myself at some Spanish or Italian bar, dancing on the tables after a night fueled by Sangria or Proseccothough Id apparently signed away my rights to drink either of these.

I see Switzerland was your first choice, Laura, the head of the committee observed.

Was? Not is?

Every one of the ten or so men around the table had a copy of my application in front of him. Can you explain your reasons for that?

I had answered this question so many times in previous interviews that I could do it in my sleep. One of my main motivations for going on a year abroad is to learn a foreign language, I said. Switzerland has not one but three official languages French, German, and Italian. I would love to be exposed to more than one language during my year as an Ursus Youth Ambassador . Actually, I was hell-bent on a year abroad because I sensed this huge, marvelous world waiting for me beyond the mossy shores of my island home; and I vibrated with the need to meet it.

The Ursunian who was chairing the interview cleared his throat. That is an excellent answer, Miss Bradbury. However, we just received the news that the Switzerland spot was nabbed by another district. The men exchanged shocked looks at this breach of fair play .

What? What about my fantasies of racing up and down the Swiss hills like Maria from Sound of Music and warming myself up with some lovely cheese fondue and wine in a wooden chalet afterwards, preferably with an entourage of handsome Swiss men? I knew I would have to deal with my disappointment later; right then wasn t the time. I dug my nails into my palms and smiled brightly. I ll go to Belgium, then.

We do have several spots there. I just feel we should let you know, though, that more than half of them are in the Flemish-speaking part of Belgium.

Flemish? I had been so sure I was going to Switzerland that I hadn t even considered the possibility of being sent to Flemish-speaking purgatory.

I flashed another smile. Of course I would make the most out of any placement, I said. However, French is Canada s second official language, and growing up here on the West Coast, I have always regretted the fact that I have never learned to speak it fluently. I hope to go to McGill University in Montreal, so obviously French would be a huge advantage for me .

There was no need to mention that French had actually been my worst subject all through high school, and that Id had to drop it after Grade 11 because it was torpedoing my GPA. Or that I ran out to the quad after my Grade 11 provincial exam for French and yelled, Thank God! I will never have to speak French again in my life !

A slighter, bald man piped up. You may not be aware of this, Miss Bradbury, but there is no way for us to guarantee where you will be placed. We send over the files for the incoming students, and it s up to our Belgian brothers to allocate them as they see fit.

I struggled to maintain my bright - eyed demeanor.

There s always France, I suppose, mused the head man, as though thinking aloud.