Life Lessons

There have been many moments throughout this year that could very well be presented to me in happy little packaging with a “This is a Life Lesson” note on top. Through a variety of indicators, I’m realizing who I am as a person and how I relate to the people around me as a result. Living in a new culture, feeling uncomfortable or confused can often be resolved by the tried and true method of asking questions and standing up for yourself. I’m much more aware of my past tendencies to let things that bother me slide (or worse, grip about them), when some honest and open communication would have been better suited. Having my fellow YAGMs throughout this journey has been comforting as they can often relate. There is, however, such thing as depending too much on those who can understand- when taking some uneasy steps towards communication with those different from you can be wildly fulfilling.

Another one of these life lessons was taught to me and Becca Truland this past week… We spent three days soaking up the luxuries of time away from SPEC, big double beds, and American necessities at my cousin Katie’s in Portchester. (Katie and Victor were gone on holiday.) The familiarity of their “American home” in England was great- until we had to deal with the hidden key and back door we were using for the week. After being frustrated by a foreign English locking mechanism our whole stay, our worst fears became reality when we locked ourselves out the last night we were there. (We even had the key we needed! Don't ask....) We realized we barely knew who to call if you’re locked out in the States. Police? Firefighters? 1-800-Loc-Smth? The whole “This isn’t our house” thing was also a factor. We really didn’t want to run the risk of looking like the foolish Americans. We also really wanted to try to get ourselves in by our own efforts somehow. After unsuccessfully trying MacGyver our way into their front door with a stick and wire, we learned our lesson: You can’t be afraid to ask for help. We received gracious help from Katie’s next door neighbor Anita, and her City Council/Locksmith brother Pete. (When she mentioned her connection we could barely believe it.) He got us in the front door through the mailbox opening faster than you can say Crowbar.

Our frozen pizzas and ciders tasted particularly sweet that night.

Taco Night- One of the many happy, non-locked out parts of our week!