Last we checked, my daughter and I were getting ready to go to the South African consulate in New York City in mid-January. She was there for about 45 minutes. Her father had to stay downstairs, as did a couple of other parents, and there were no chairs; they specifically did not want us to sit on the floor.
Everything seemed to be in place, but we still fretted a bit. That evening, we went to see Maybe Happy Ending with a niece and her Significant Other, the first Broadway show I had seen since Newsies in 2014, and also with my daughter.
Shockingly, her visa arrived in a week —yay!
Jersey
On February 5th, my wife, daughter, and I went to Newark. My wife rightly hated driving in New Jersey, and the closer we got to Newark, the worse. One particular car was in the right lane of three heading south while we were in the middle lane. The car from our right decided to be in the same space we were in, so my wife had to evade the vehicle, not even having time to see if a vehicle was in the left lane to avoid this fool.
We stopped at a hotel near the Newark airport and took a shuttle to the airport a couple of hours later. The shuttle driver’s driving made my wife nervous. “Jersey drivers” is an earned epitaph.
We arrived at the airport and went through all the processing more quickly than I anticipated. My daughter sat waiting for two hours before boarding, a bit annoyed that we got there so early.
Our daughter had a 14-hour direct flight from Newark to Cape Town, South Africa, and got a ride to her college. Before beginning classes, she experienced many cool and fun orientation stuff, including sightseeing. She seems to be enjoying herself.
School days
Classes began on February 17th, and she’s enjoying dance, history, and art. One of the things she mentioned about her art class was that most of her classmates have been attending classes together for the past two years. She’s the only American there, and they’re asking her questions—”Why does your country do THAT?”—but they’re otherwise pretty chill about it.
She has had a couple of allergy scares, one while eating pizza and the other a pasta dish. Food labeling is not as robust as it is in the United States. And she’s had some difficulty with her credit and debit cards, even though we called her banks before she left the country.
Last year, my wife and I went to her college in Massachusetts and spent time with her both before and after her birthday, although not on her birthday. This year, she’s 7,845 miles or 12,625 kilometers. We knew this was going to be the case. It’s a good thing she’s doing what she wants to: exploring the world.
Yet I feel a soupçon of melancholy that she’s so far away. Happy birthday, my dear daughter. Enjoy your special day.
