Amy
Renes shares some ice cream with her older "sister," Jet
Philipsen, and her cousin, Mees Duiverman.
Close to a million questions were running through my head before I met my host family. There I was, standing in the airport with luggage the weight of a small whale and an ocean’s worth of unanswered questions. I was waiting for my new family after a long day of traveling and time zone skipping. After placing the Atlantic between me and Iowa, I was just beginning to realize that I would soon be the newest member of the Philipsen family.
Amy
Renes shares some ice cream with her older "sister," Jet
Philipsen, and her cousin, Mees Duiverman.
This traffic-induced delay gave me time for reflection. I did not reflect. Reflection requires concentration, and I was tired. Still, my mind wandered around the subject of my new family. The best I could do was list the vital statistics: name, age, and location. YFU had provided me this information via email a week earlier, and I had as much contact with my family as a week could hold.
I knew the Philipsen family consisted of my parents, Wim and Irma, and my sisters, Jet and Karlijn. I had anxiously scanned the email from YFU and found that Karlijn was my age, seventeen, with a twenty-year-old sister Jet. They lived in Doetinchem, a city on the eastern side of the country.
Their connection with YFU was very personal and had occurred only the year earlier. Karlijn had been a foreign exchange student to Alaska through YFU, returning that summer. Even with this background, I knew hardly anything concerning the people who would momentarily open their home to me.
As I was thinking, I watched constantly for any signs of my family. After a few minutes, I noticed a group of people quickly walking towards the YFU volunteer and me. First impressions seem to be glorified, because I can not remember what I was thinking at that point. “That’s them,” I probably thought. The obvious is not lost on me. All four of them had made it, and we quickly made the basic introductions and greetings. The first thing I learned was that everyone in my new family could easily speak English with me; that was a relief, to say the least.
A few feet from our first meeting point, everyone sat down for some coffee and tea. I was surprised that no one was in a hurry to get out of the airport. It was a simple act, but one that seemed to start our year on a relaxed note.
After the drinks were ordered, I could sit back and observe. Fascinating to me was the rapid flow of a Dutch conversation I had no way of understanding. I was also interested in observing my family. They were the ones with whom I would live for a whole year. We would share a roof, meals, and a lot memories. I knew I owed my whole foreign exchange to this family, because the experience would not exist without their willingness to take me in. For that I was grateful.
Tea and coffee cups emptied, and it was time to head for Doetinchem. Walking out of the airport, it was easy to fall into conversation with everyone. No reservations or worries. It did not matter if I had a million questions to be answered. They would be answered in time, but for the moment, it was time to go home.