First of all: My life isn’t the least bit interesting. So if you are reading this and expecting an awesome story about the Adventures and Intriguing Life of Jasmine then you may as well read the paper under this one. However, the school trip to Germany is pretty worth reading about. Sure the bleak essay contest was boring but it was worth the long aching hand. Aachen was an amazing in the view of the family I lived with. But with all chances like this one, regrets followed. So, if you are daring to read on to this nap-fest then go ahead. Just don’t complain too much.


The day was regular and as typical as every other. The principal wanted to see third, fourth, and fifth graders in the auditorium. Everyone thought we got in trouble like always. As she mentioned the school trip to Germany and the large room exploded, I thought that would a story to tell. Little did I know. Anyways, when she talked about the essay contest, bleakness spread through everyone in the room. Groans and rude comments filled the air. We got back to our rooms and got the permission slip to join. To tell you the truth, my mom probably only signed it to make me think I would have a chance to win. Little did she know. I wrote about what I would do when I got there and what kind of experience I would get. I’m guessing what won them over was when I mentioned about learning. Haha. Me? Learning in a whole other country? I guess that’s what people mean when they talk about little white lies. Anyhow, a few weeks later they called me from art class and I was thankful for the interruption of the not-so-exciting lesson on supposedly famous artists. Then it dawned on me where I was headed. Little Miss Perfect had never gone to the principal’s office and I was thoroughly freaked out. Over the weeks the trip had been put aside and later forgotten. As I reached the office the secretaries told me I was in big trouble. I was on the verge of crying when I got in the small office with 2 fourth graders and 3 fifth graders who were more confused then sad so I straightened up. The principal up this close was kinda wrinkly was all I could think of. When she told us to pack our bags we were going to Aachen, I laughed and laughed. How stupid were these people to send me there? It felt like a dream when I walked back to class and told my friend what happened. Being big mouthed like she was, word spread like wildfire and the next morning’s news weren’t very surprising. Everyone gave me lists to what to bring back for them, teachers congratulated me, my mom helped me pack making sure I had gum for the plane ride, and even though the suitcase felt real, the bus ride was bumpy, the metal detectors beeped like crazy, and the sensation of an elevator filled me…I was still living in a dream.



My first impression of Aachen: Irksome people trying to hug and meet a tired eight year old as she got off the plane. I felt like I wanted to punch Valerie in the face. Obviously these people didn’t get the memo to not talk to me after an interrupted nap. Why wasn’t it on the Information About Jasmine sheet? Anywho, after a long night of sleep I got up and went down for breakfast when I found out that for the two-week period that we were here, I would never be able to sleep in. Our schedule was jam packed with meeting important people, going to tourist sites, and learning about the education system there. That day were going to a place where three counties meet at one point. I expected the whole place to be a party fest and realized it wasn’t all that great. After playing at the park with the boy I lived with for what seemed like hours in the Netherlands, we went to visit a museum of the human body. I had to put on a face of interest and acted as though this was my life dream: To watch food being digested and regurgitated. When we visited the school, everyone acted as though the six of us were the most precious things in the world. While the five teachers that accompanied us chatted with the German teachers, the kids there let us use the bikes. They taught me how to ride when I admitted that I didn’t know how. The days that followed, we met important people of whose names I remembered as well as I remember now what I ate for breakfast that day. We went to a fountain in which they said if you drank from it you would be granted luck. I remember it smelled like spoiled eggs. Valerie said that people come from all over to drink from it. I wondered if their breath smelled like rotten eggs. On the last day we celebrated one of the fourth graders and my birthdays at a bar booked just for us and our families. I ate half the cake and got so hyper I couldn’t sleep for three hours. The next morning was the day we bid adieu and thanked them for all their care toward us. On the plane ride back I felt I was waking up for the first time and realized what had just happened.


In the years that followed this trip I start to regret many things. First of all, was that I had lied in the essay about learning something there. I really wish I had asked questions about everyone and everything. It came back at me at the airport in Germany. Do you know how easy it is to get locked in the stall? The four other girls had to get the security guard in there to instruct me how to get out. After while of freaking out, we laughed about it and decided not to mention it to the teachers. But the fourth grade guy got a kick out of it. Karma has never really been my friend. Anyway, I wished I had been older when I went. I would have been less ignorant about the chances of it. When I came home from the trip I asked my mom if anything interesting happened without me and she said they had gone to the pool. I got mad at them for not waiting till I got back. Then there was wanting to sleep in. Couldn’t I see there was a whole country to explore? After that, there was not realizing I was allergic to cats till I lived with Valerie, her son, daughter, husband…and cat. My eyes puffed up at night and I got the sniffles. They got so worried they called the teachers in to see what was wrong with me. After that little scene, I was to stay ten feet away from Pekaloo at all times. Overall, any third grader would have been the same as I was. I’m just glad it was me.


If you’re reading this conclusion to this painfully long essay then you haven’t fallen asleep. Congrats. But I have to admit, this essay was a very good jogger. I still remember trying to explain to the kids there that football was not soccer. But the thing we all shared was stubbornness. I had to explain what football was and how it was different from soccer. It would have been easier if they didn’t just understand every fifth word that came out of my mouth. The foggy place in my mind will always have the memory. Who knows? Maybe I’ll visit again. Scratch that. I will. But, this time it won’t be a dream.