LITMIR.BIZ

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Stella. And of course, you know Nicholas.” The three settled on the pair of couches in the formal living room, a plate of water crackers, a crumbling wedge of Parmesan and a perspiring pitcher of iced tea between them.

      “I have to tell you, Stella. We love Nicholas at Hallström. He’s the perfect candidate. He has an impeccable school record, and he’s a varsity athlete, well-spoken, conscientious. I’ve conducted countless interviews for these coveted spots, and there aren’t many youngsters that tick off so many of the traits we like to see in our exchange students. You’ve got a bright one on your hands.” Barbara pressed her hands into her lap and forged onward before Stella had a chance to acknowledge the compliment. “We make these home visits to ensure that your family has the capacity, ability and desire to host a student from another country. Other than the permission slip, we have no idea whether candidates’ families even want to be a part of this program. Why—” and here she tittered “—a few years ago, before we implemented home visits as protocol, a young woman arrived from Warsaw without anyone to pick her up. When I drove her back to the program’s office—poor dear felt so abandoned—to call her host family, the candidate’s mother hadn’t even known her daughter had applied and gotten into the program. What a mess that was.”

      “Can I choose where I get to go?” Nicholas asked.

      “Unfortunately not,” Barbara said. “We match candidates up with who we think they are best suited, personality-wise. It’s not really a question of where you’re going, because you’ll have a chance to travel in Europe on sponsored trips to visit Prague, Budapest, St. Petersburg, Tallinn or Warsaw. The focus is on getting to know people from another culture. It’s about letting someone in. These are things that you can’t pick up in books or movies. They are life experiences, nothing you can study or learn. Regardless of where you go, Nicholas, you will learn invaluable lessons about your exchange partner, his culture and about yourself during your time in the program. Herman Hallström, our founder and benefactor began the program in the post–Cold War era, to attempt to create an understanding between the United States and the countries of the Soviet regime, forging connections and creating ties between countries that had previously been enemies. Mr. Hallström wants to recognize the students, the children of the next generation who will become the politicians, the teachers, the lawyers and the champions of the future to take charge of this change. It’s no longer the Cold War era, thank goodness, but it is about making the world smaller. It’s about bridging the gaps between us in this great wide world in which we live.” Everything Barbara said sounded like a rehearsed speech or as though it was being dictated from the FAQ section of a brochure for the program.

      “Well, we’re delighted to host a student, wherever he’s from,” Stella said. “Let us show you the rest of the house.” They took Barbara through the other two living rooms that extended from the first: a casual television den and then an office/library, with a computer and shelves of tightly packed books. In this room, Barbara stared extra hard at the framed Saul Steinberg New Yorker poster with its view from Manhattan as the center of the world.

      “You might consider taking that down,” she said, strolling past Stella. Sometime during the tour, Barbara had begun leading the way, and Nicholas and Stella had been relegated to following meekly behind her, feeling guests in their own home. She stopped in front of the foyer and thanked them each formally before pressing the button for the elevator.

      A few weeks later, she’d called the house and Nicholas picked up the phone. Barbara had been simultaneously bubbly and composed on the other end, a cheerleader on Park Avenue. “I have some exciting news for you, Nicholas,” she’d said. He could hear the clacks from her strings of pearls as she fussed with them against her neck. “First of all, you’re in. We have officially accepted you to the program. And second, I have your assignment for next year. You’re going to Tallinn!” All he could think about was the fact that he didn’t want to be kicked out of the program for his ignorance; where the heck was Tallinn?

      “Oh,” he’d responded. “That’s cool. Tallinn...”

      “Estonia,” she finished for him. “Can you imagine?” Nicholas had already started imagining the whimsical steeples of Prague or the onion domes of St. Petersburg. Tallinn had been the furthest option from his mind.

      “Why, uh, why Estonia?”

      “Remember, I make my matches based on people, not on places. This partnership is one of my favorites. You’re going to love him.”

      “What’s his name? The guy, my partner?”

      “Paavo. Paavo Sokolov, and I think you’re going to get along really well. You remind me a lot of one another. I think there’s going to be some common ground. I can’t wait for you two to meet.”

      Nicholas pictured the Estonian as the Beast from the Disney movie, hulking and wrapped in furs, brooding in a corner. STD, Nicholas thought, mentally rapping himself on the knuckles.

      “Same,” he responded. “I’ve never been to Estonia. It should be a good experience.” That was the key to handling Barbara; approaching everything as an experience and welcoming everything that life handed to you, including hours of studying, constipation, a strange assignation in an exchange program. As soon as he’d hung up, he’d dashed off for the World Atlas and located Estonia, a tiny nostril of a country overlooking the Baltic Sea. It felt as remote and punitive as if he were being sent to Siberia, another fictional-sounding place that Nicholas couldn’t locate easily on a map. But backing out at that point would have appeared shortsighted, against everything the program stood for. The explicit agreement Nicholas had made when he handed in his application to Hallström had included accepting any assignment he would be granted.

      So he was stuck with Estonia and he was stuck with Barbara spouting her enthusiastic rhetoric on the ride to the airport. It felt as if this trip was already off to a bad start.

PAAVO

      Tallinn

      September 2002

      As far as Paavo was concerned, the Hallström program was off to a terrible start. He’d been paired with a wrestler, someone with whom he couldn’t imagine having the slightest bit in common. His parents—particularly his father—didn’t seem to have any interest in hosting a boy from New York in the least. All Leo seemed interested in lately was spouting anger toward the Estonian immigration authorities. He seemed to be getting sourer by the day. And it seemed as if he was drinking more, too. Most importantly, Paavo was disgusted with himself. He’d applied for the program thinking it would help—anything had to help. Paavo was growing more skittish and cowardly by the day. If he continued like this, there was no way he was going to survive the program to the very end. Paavo opened the sofa bed in the den and pulled a fresh pair of sheets over the creaky mattress, taking care to tuck each corner in tightly. Nico’s flight was scheduled for on-time arrival, and Paavo wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted to erase the first impression of the program from Nico’s mind. He wanted everyone to forget what had happened at orientation. Not that Paavo could forget it himself. It kept repeating itself over and over in his head like a broken record.

      In the last week of August, Paavo had flown into Berlin along with the rest of the students participating in the Hallström program. Rolf, a diminutive Hallström employee, met Paavo at the gate, looking almost as blasé as a teenager himself. Rolf herded Paavo through Brandenburg Airport, landing him in front of a dormant baggage carousel and telling him he’d have to wait there while Rolf collected the other European students from their flights. After speakers had gurgled something about a flight arriving from New York City, the gaping mouth of a conveyor belt began spitting out bags and Rolf herded the rest of the European students toward them. Barbara Rothenberg, the program director, who had interviewed Paavo for the program the previous semester, was leading the New York students. The Americans were moving in slow motion, having arrived in Germany that morning, red-eyed and jet-lagged.

      “Come, come,” Barbara said, gathering them all together in the wingspan of her arms. Paavo could barely tell the difference between the Europeans and the Americans. He knew

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