Home Away From Home 

Over the past year, 784 Baylor students studied abroad for academic credit. That number

does not include students on mission trips or students doing formal research, but it does include the roughly 524 students who are spending the summer on faculty-led programs.

These students were appropriately matched to one of the nearly 100 study abroad programs the university provides around the world, with the Baylor Abroad

program carefully reviewing applicants to ensure that the program they choose aligns with their degree plan and enhances their resume in preparation for graduation.

Many educators believe that a semester or year program offers the opportunity for a more immersive experience than students might get on a short-term, summer program, most of which are “Baylor in … “programs led by Baylor faculty members with discipline-specific focuses.

Exchange Program and Study Abroad Advisor Bobby Leis says that Baylor has started tracking performance after students return from their overseas studies. This will help to provide quantifiable data to support what most people already believe, that international travel is a transformative experience, with benefits continuing long after a program’s completion. 

“We really do hope that students are participating in something beyond just a program,” says Leis, who came to Baylor four years ago after spending nearly a decade living and working overseas. “We want this to be a pathway. We see these students come back and get more involved with on-campus international organizations; they’re choosing to study abroad again at a second location; and they’re considering going overseas for graduate school or looking for jobs in other countries.”

We asked 13 students to reflect on their recent experiences. Not surprisingly, many focused on non-academic impacts – on the culture or their own personal growth. But to a person, they all felt the investment in overseas education was life-changing.

Some saw the realities of terrorism through the eyes of their hosts and classmates. Leis notes, however, that Baylor has always been very conservative in its efforts to ensure student safety.

“We’ve seen a rise across the board in risk-management procedures and due-diligence,” he says. “We’re giving students more access to in-country resources and our pre-departure orientations have become more robust. All travel is registered and students have access to technology which grants them instant access to our security team and their international insurance providers, as well as an app giving them one-click ‘check-in’ and ‘SOS’ options. This lets us ensure our students are safe and secure if something were to occur [like the incidents this past summer in Manchester and London].”

Leis says Baylor study abroad takes Pro Futuris seriously, and hopes to play its part in preparing students for “service in a diverse and interconnected global society.”

I remember my hands shaking when my taxi from the airport pulled up in front of a relatively unassuming building. The only sign that this was my school, or that it was a school at all, was a little stone plaque affixed to the door. I had no idea what to expect once I walked inside, and that was what scared me. More than the language barrier or the distance, I was afraid because I had spent my entire life dreaming of Italy. Afraid it wouldn’t be the place I’d dreamed about, afraid I’d made a mistake.

Worst of all, I was afraid I didn’t belong here.

Like Alice through the looking glass, I was suddenly in a place where everything felt not just foreign, but wrong. As if, were I somehow able to destroy the language barrier, it would still be some sort of Wonderland where nothing quite made sense.

The streets were mazes, intersecting in no discern. ible pattern. From the outside, buildings appeared to extend for just a few feet, but once inside they were twisting labyrinths of hallways and stairways. The people spoke too quickly, even when they spoke English.

The merchants and crowds seemed alive with a frantic energy separate from my own. Logic seemed to be on permanent holiday. Most times, I drank in the strangeness of it all eagerly. Different is exciting, after all.

Eventually the foreign environment began to get to me. Different was still exciting, but it didn’t make sense, and after several months of that, I began to lose focus.

I think my professors sensed that I was lost in Florence’s particular Wonderland. I’m sure they’d seen it before, and already knew just how to make it right.

They reminded me that being far from home and confused by another culture wasn’t just normal, but was in fact GOOD. Nobody can be prepared for everything. Everyone must at some point in their lives enter Wonderland, whether it’s a city or an experience or something in their own minds. The important part is what you do once you’re there.

My art history professor shared stories of her teaching career with me when I came to class early. My bookmaking professor started to teach me extra techniques to make things I was more interested in. My fabric arts professor gave me refuge in her studio, even outside of class hours, and was always willing to help me make new, extra projects, or just listen to me talk while I worked, giving me her wise advice and her sympathies when I had a particularly hard week.

They listened. And while that seems simple, it wasn’t. So often, professors only listen to the class as a whole. But they saw me, listened to me, and assured me that my ideas, my existence, were important, and that, even though I felt lost, I was not alone.

I fought through the confusion and found myself, when I found the support and encouragement of this incredible new school and my professors, Florence became my home. I began to flourish like I never had before. I learned a little bit of Italian, and I began to learn who I was as an artist, as a person.

The moments I remember the most are the stolen ones at midnight, or in the morning before the tourists emerged from their hotel rooms. When it was just the stray cats, the city, and me, and it felt like home.

I remember feeling the creative energy of Florence’s past and present flowing through me, inspiring me in ways I’d never imagined. I remember finding a group of people more supportive and encouraging than any I’d ever met. My drive, my ambition had never been so ignited before. My creativity and mind had never been so nurtured and valued. They taught me that my ideas deserved to be heard, and that I was enough -strong enough, clever enough – to make them stand out. My personal Wonderland will fade from my mind piece by piece, as all memories do. But it will leave a lasting im-pact. Even though it’s been months since I came home, I can still feel Florence’s energy in me, and I know I always will.

I was not impressed with Budapest upon arrival.

Our group of 10 Baylor students was greeted by rows of shambled houses on our drive from the airport to the Buda side of the city. The streets were covered in graffiti, typical of any big city, and it was hot.

Once settled into our dorms, we were told we would be bunking with Hungarian college students for the next five weeks — there was some protest among members of the group about sharing a room with strangers.

I was reminded of my days as a resident on the third floor of Penland. I dreamt about other cities to which I would travel.

And travel we did. We trekked through Transylvanian gorges, marveled at the Hapsburg estate in Vienna and stayed at a little Airbnb so close to the Vatican that we could see over its walls. It is easy to forget the majority of my time was spent in Budapest. It seems like the little land-locked country, still reeling from Soviet rule, couldn’t compare to any of my other destinations.

Yet all of us agreed that Hungary was home. We were immersed in its culture. Our group became experts at navigating the metro system by the end of the trip. We learned the city’s rich history: some of the oldest ruins from the Roman Empire actually lie within Budapest. And I’ve yet to see a sight more breathtaking than when crossing the many bridges overlooking the Danube River.

I soon found myself getting into a routine. I coffee-shop-hopped all over the city. I ventured alone to Margaret Island, a mile-long rock that cleaves the Danube in half, and sat drinking wine while reading and writing. I likened myself to the locals.

Perhaps one of my most vivid memories was when Hungary tied Portugal in the European Cup, which solidly staked its position in the playoffs. It would have been easy to mistake the city’s celebrations for riots. People swung from traffic lights and the metros were forced to shut down.

I felt then that I truly understood the Hungarian spirit. They were stoic in every other moment. They are the quiet ones in a room full of people and they look at you funny if you speak too loudly. But when it comes to national pride, they hold nothing back.

By the end of our trip, I would get annoyed by the other tourists. It felt like they were intruding on my city. And it left me wondering: Why do we ever leave the cities we love? The Hungarians taught me not to get wrapped up in the ending of things. Rather, it’s much better to be swept up in the moment, like winning soccer games. Though you couldn’t have paid me to leave Budapest, we return home because that is the purpose of travel – only to fall in love with a new city when we go abroad, again.

MADRID

Maya Rodriguez

Major: Pre-Business

Hometown: Denton, Texas

Anticipated Graduation: May 2019

Madrid is history, with buildings, streets, and monuments that felt like they have there forever, especially to an American like myself. Madrid is adventure. Around every corner there was something new; a new place, new food, new people. Madrid is friendly to strangers and its people will stop anything to help, whether it be figuring out the metro, ordering food, or just crossing the street (this can be scary in Europe at times). While Madrid was all of these things to me and more, there was one thing Madrid became that I didn’t expect: a home away from home.

I have always wanted to study abroad, especially in Spain, so it was an easy decision to skip out on my fall semester here in Waco. I won’t lie to you, the first week abroad was hard – sleep deprivation, mixed with jet lag and no real friends yet, gets to you. But I quickly made friends who eventually turned into family. We had all traveled alone to Madrid, without knowing anyone else. We came to rely deeply on one another and left with life-long friendships. The friends I made abroad will always hold a special place in my heart because they are the only ones that can truly relate to the amazing experiences I had without getting bored of reliving it over and over again.

The main reason I always wanted to study in Spain was to improve my Spanish. I grew up in a half-Hispanic home, so I can get by when put in a room with native speakers. But there was still room for improvement. While it is probably a lot easier to get by not knowing Spanish in Spain now than it was 30 years ago (if you ever hit a language barrier, look for the youth in the room. I promise they know English), communicating could still be a challenge. The first couple of times I rode the metro or bus to school, I questioned whether the voice announcing the stops was even speaking Spanish. And then there were all the times in the first couple of weeks when people would ask or say things to me and I just wouldn’t register it because my “Spanish Brain” wasn’t on. There is a true sense of accomplishment that comes when you realize that you don’t have to be focused on listening for the metro stops, and can giggle with the rest of the passengers about a little boy telling his mom that he is best friends with Real Madrid soccer player James Rodriguez. I took pride in being mistaken for a local, like the time someone stopped me and asked if I could speak English and give them directions to Plaza Mayor, and when I finished telling them how to get there, I received a compliment I may never get again in my life, “Your English is impeccable.”

I know when everyone asks me to tell them about my time abroad, they want crazy stories of running around airports, train stations, and cobblestone streets going from country to country. While I do have many stories like that, that’s not what I miss most about Europe or my time abroad. What I miss most are the little things; the hour-long Metro and bus ride to and from school that taught me that it’s okay to be alone and to make friends with strangers. I used to tell people when they would ask about the lifelong friendships I made, the language skills I gained, or that it was a life changing and learning experience. Now I just tell people that I cried harder leaving Madrid than when I left Dallas because Madrid is now my other home.

CAEN (FRANCE)

Name: Caroline Caywood

Hometown: Allen, Texas

Major: International Studies/French

Graduation date: May 2017

During the spring of my junior year, I had one of the greatest opportunities a student can have: a chance to study and live in a foreign country for a semester and explore new sights, sounds, and tastes.

When I arrived in Caen in January of 2016, the first sound I remember hearing as I stepped out of the train carriage was a gentle yet steady beating of rain against the clean gray platform. I would soon discover that this was an appropriate welcome for Normandy, as it’s known for being one of the rainiest regions in France. Despite the dampness, I found beauty in the rolling green countryside peppered by wildflowers and elegantly trimmed with rocky beaches and plunging cliff sides. My home for those four months was a split-level house tucked away on an unassuming street in the outskirts of Caen, the capital of Normandy. Happy home to a flower shop and boulangerie, my little neighborhood was just a 10-minute walk from the university. My host family, a petite dark-haired woman named Christine and her 19-year-old daughter generously opened their home to me, including me in family dinners, parties, and even a weekend trip to the breathtaking coastal city of Dinard. Despite feelings of homesickness for my family and life back in the United States, my homestay provided me with constant comfort and immersed me in a typical French existence.

The morning of March 22 brought incessant showers accompanied by a sharp eastern wind. Still bracing from the damp morning chill outside, I shook the rain droplets from my umbrella and entered the classroom where my classmates from across the globe were anxiously glued to their phones, varying expressions of disbelief transfixed on their faces.

“Everything ok, les amis?”

One of the students from Thailand swept her chestnut hair from her eyes and turned towards me with a wavering voice, “There was another attack this morning — in Brussels this time.”

My blood froze. We all knew acts of terror had been taking place with increasing frequency in Europe, but we hadn’t expected anything to happen during our time abroad. I flashed back to a conversation with my parents who were worried sick about the threat of violence following the attacks at the Bataclan in Paris. At the time I had reassured them that there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. But now as I stood watching the news coverage unfold in the Brussels metro station, I questioned whether I truly believed that anymore.

The following weeks were fraught with an outpouring of concern from the European community: How could the growing problem of violent extremism be put to an end? These topics found their place at many dinners with my host family who openly discussed the changing French political climate with me.

Christine shared her frustrations over the influx of immigrants, amongst whom some of the terrorist seemed to be traveling, but only laughed incredulously when I asked for her thoughts on Marine Le Pen, the French presidential candidate and leader of the National Front. “T absolutely do not support her,” she began, shaking her head. “Her views simply don’t reflect French principles.”

This is the view that I would hear from most French citizens with whom I spoke on the matter, especially college students, whose favorite question to ask me was my opinion on Donald Trump and the upcoming American election. Although I seldom appreciated what often became interrogations on my own political leanings, discussing American current events with non-Americans forced me to adopt a more objective point of view regarding my own country. Despite being a U.S. citizen, one of the most rewarding aspects of being abroad during this period was having the privilege of taking a step back and watching events unfold back home from the perspective of an outsider.

FINLAND

Name: Brian King

Major: Mathematics and Statistics

Hometown: Colorado Springs, Colorado

Graduation Year: 2018

The Finnish days were short, dark, and cold. My journey to school became harder and

more treacherous each day as the temperature plunged and snow – then ice – coated the sidewalks. Nevertheless, I persevered. I needed a hobby, so I began playing pickup basketball, which resulted in the first stitches of my life — at a Finnish emergency room!

My trials weren’t at an end. Soon after the stitches came out, I stopped at a store on my way home from school. I set my backpack down and browsed. When I went to retrieve it, I noticed an open zipper: You guessed it, my laptop was gone — stolen in a country known for its lack of crime.

I’ve painted a gloomy portrait of my visit to the second coldest country on the planet, yet it was one of the greatest adventures I’ve yet under-taken. I can’t imagine not having gone! My amazing memories from Finland are so strong and positive, I often forget the dark moments.

My study abroad experience at the University of Helsinki broadened my horizons in every sense of the phrase: linguistically, culturally, academically, religiously, and more.

Moi moi! Heippa! Tervetuloa! Kiitos! Ole hyvä! This is just a starter pack of basic phrases you learn upon encountering the wonderfully complex Finnish language. Alas, its intricacies proved too much for me to master in my brief four-month layover. Fear not! The Finns handle themselves amazingly in English, with practically native-like abilities. They also learn Swedish as children. Their multilingual culture is not only enchanting but also bestows endless benefits, expanding both creativity and cultural awareness. We could all profit from developing similar skill sets. 

An older woman steps up to the karaoke microphone, performs a beautiful rendition of a Finnish sits down and drinks her beer alone. Several songs later; the process repeats and so the night goes. In the United States, I might have witnessed this and felt sad, thinking the woman to be lonely. In Finland, I lived this in person and saw beauty. I observed people unafraid to be alone, comfortable in their quietude, but always helpful and sociable when necessary. Above all, I discovered how much perception matters: things are not necessarily the way they are because of some unchange-able attribute, but often simply because you’ve been trained to think that’s how it is.

Take education as an example. Teachers lecture, students do homework, quizzes and tests measure our understanding, and the cycle repeats. This is how we learn. Or is it? In Helsinki, I was presented with the valuable concept of exercise classes. Rather than simply submitting homework, you’re challenged to present your solution to the entire class, an initially intimidating method that forces you to truly master the material and have confidence in your answers.

Indeed, living abroad requires self-confidence in all areas. For example, it compelled me to live my faith more. Where Baylor creates a welcoming, Christian environment where it is easy to be religious, in Finland I had to personalize my faith more: seek out fellow believers, find a church, and determine for myself how to stay close to God. Ultimately, I progressed in ways I might not have at Baylor.

To be honest, this last sentiment truly sums up why studying abroad was so special to me — it unlocked opportunities not possible at Baylor – or perhaps even in the United States. It allowed me to meet people from all over the world, to share our diversity of life experiences and worldviews which shape the human experience. Finland was the perfect place for it all to come together. Hyvää juhlavuotta, Suomi!

MAASTRICHT

Anna DiNardo

Major: Finance

Hometown: Reading, Massachusetts Anticipated Graduation: May 2018

When I look back on my time in Europe, I can’t help but think about my love-hate relationship with public transportation. When you spend as much time as I did on planes, trains, and buses, there are bound to be a few mishaps.

When we arrived in Maastricht, our home in the Netherlands, we were given a bus pass that we could use on the local bus system. Our program coordinator told us that Buses One, Two, Five, and Six would run past the guesthouse, our dorm for the semester. Our first week in Maastricht, Becca Adams, another Baylor student, and I decided to have dinner in town after class. Feeling lazy following our meal, we decided to take the bus back to avoid the 20-minute walk home.

We waited at the bus stop for 10 minutes before Bus One finally arrived, and hopped on, feeling confident in our decision. Since I had just arrived in Maastricht, I was still pretty disoriented and did not really know my way around yet. So, when our bus began to head across the river in the opposite direction of the guest-house, I was blissfully unaware of the situation I had gotten into. It was not until we had been on the bus for 20 minutes that I began to think, “Wait a minute, this ride is taking way longer than it should be. I could have walked home by now.” I pulled out my phone, reluctantly turned on my data, a risky move and tough decision when you are on an international phone plan, and pulled up the Maps app to see where we were headed. I watched as the little blue dot showing our current location moved farther and farther away from the guest-house, and farther outside of Maastricht.

We decided to just get off at the next stop and wait for a bus going the other direction back toward Maas-tricht. But 20 minutes passed and that next stop never came. We looked around hoping there would be anoth er passenger there to tell us what to do, but there were only two other people on the bus. Neither of them spoke enough English to understand what we were trying to say, and we definitely did not speak Dutch. At this point, we had crossed the border into Belgium, which is easy to do since Maastricht is located in the southern part of the Netherlands, near the German and Belgian borders. Our bus ride home from dinner had turned into an unexpected trip to another country. Sitting there in a panic over what to do, we finally decided to just ask the bus driver. Thankfully, he spoke enough English to tell us that although we had taken a bus to Belgium, it would eventually be returning back to Maastricht.

Two hours after first getting on the bus, we made it back to the guesthouse. Looking back on this moment of frustration, I am reminded that things do not always go as planned. You just need to adjust, ask for help, and move on. That night I learned not to sweat the small stuff (and to always double check the direction before getting on a bus). Maastricht taught me to appreciate bus drivers, data, and the little moments like this, because these are the things we will look back on and laugh about for years to come.

HONG KONG

Name: Will King

Hometown: Electrical and Computer Engineering

Major: Greensboro, North Carolina

Graduation date: May 2018

When people heard I was travelling abroad, inevitably they would ask, “So, why did you choose Hong Kong?” To this day I hear this question a lot. I quickly developed a go-to answer: “I wanted to go somewhere non-Western, and Hong Kong worked the best with my major.” As straightforward as my reasons for choosing the program were, I could never have imagined the associations I would establish with Hong Kong, as what I used to view with curiosity and uncertainty I now view with fondness and wonder.

One of my favorite experiences in Hong Kong happened during the Lunar New Year. It’s the biggest holiday in Hong Kong, and with fireworks, a parade, and city-wide decorations, it’s impossible to ignore. Even my dorm sponsored events, including one where we learned to write traditional calligraphic couplets — red banners that you hang on your door, inscribed with messages of good fortune. As we were having fun, laughing at our poor attempts to imitate the sample scripts, and learning what the characters meant, one of the dorm cleaning staff approached us and took a calligraphy brush in hand. Everyone paused and watched, and he deftly brushed a few characters on one of the banners, characters far more elegant than ours. He acknowledged our praise and went back to cleaning, and we resumed our efforts, suitably humbled and inspired. It was a small encounter, but I will always remember it.

I was amazed that an ancient, decorative, and dignified tradition would still be upheld by individuals from all walks of life. I was struck by the cultural respect that was given to elders, regardless of social status. And I| was blessed by an opportunity to bond with my peers and learn about a valued tradition.

Through this experience and many others, I learned about the culture of Hong Kong. I also visited several other countries – Vietnam, Thailand, and mainland China — and got a taste of their cultures as well. And of course I ate plenty of delicious food and met students from all over the world. I know that my time abroad has made me into a better ambassador for America and for Baylor, and I’m grateful for the innumerable little lessons I learned, whether from traveling solo, dealing with a steep language barrier, or discussing international politics.

Hong Kong is a complex city, but if I had to sum up its uniqueness in one concept it would be “coexisting extremes.” Everywhere in the city there are violent yet harmonious juxtapositions. Next to McDonald’s there is a shop filled with traditional Chinese herbal remedies. Ornate Buddhist temples are within walking distance of skyscrapers and fancy bars. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the city, you’re only a 20-minute cab ride away from kilometers of hiking trails and pristine beaches. The streets are kept clean both by millionaires driving electric cars and minimum-wage street-sweep-ers wielding bamboo brooms. These contrasts – West and East, old and new, city and nature, rich and poor – drive Hong Kong and give it life. I was expecting to experience a different culture, but I didn’t know just how different it would be. So if you ask me why I chose Hong Kong, my answer will still be “to experience an Eastern culture.” But if you ask me what I experienced about and learned from that culture, I hope you have a few hours to spare.

OXFORD

Name: Rebecca “Becca” Richards Hometown: East Winthrop, Maine

Major: University Scholar: concentration in Philosophy

Graduation Date: May 2018

Oxford: the city of dreaming spires and drowsy students. As a child, I always wanted to earn my undergraduate degree at Baylor but go to Oxford for my junior year. Most of my mother’s family went to Baylor and my father earned his Masters degrees at Oxford in the seventies. The tradition and history of Baylor and Oxford appealed to me. My mother told me that walking around the city would be like visiting the past in a completely new way — surrounded by buildings built centuries ago. Indeed, the past is still alive in that small city. It peers out at you from memorials of war and martyrdom, from college spires, and from ancient texts lining Duke Humphrey’s library. It speaks in the sounds of church bells as the evenings are filled with a cacophony of bronze tones overwhelming each other in quick succession. Plaques around the city reveal the college where Robert Hooke experimented, the birthplace of Dorothy Sayers, and Logic Lane where great mathematicians and philosophers lived. I even found a plaque marking the birthplace of King Richard the Lionheart, one of my ancestors. This visit to the past greatly influenced the course of my future in an unexpected way.

When I first arrived in Oxford, I was afraid, intimidated by ordering coffee, buying groceries, and riding a bicycle on the left side of the narrow roads. Most of all, I was afraid of meeting new people. Within the first few weeks of being there, I began to challenge my fears. I ordered coffee from small specialty coffee shops, I learned the aisles of the local Tesco, and I bought a bicycle and rode it. I began a policy with myself to do the things I feared with a smile.

My greatest fear took longer to conquer. Meeting people still intimidates me, but in eight months, I met close to 200 new people. I met Americans, Brits, French, Irish, and even some Latvians. I traveled to four countries with only myself for company. I learned to talk to people and to discover their stories. Embracing that fear changed me. I learned to love people enough to put aside my insecurities and enjoy people for who they are. As part of that process, I met a friend who would invite me to one of my most enjoyable days in England.

With finals and deadlines looming, a British friend working on his doctorate and ordination invited a small party of graduate students and me to explore the area he grew up in outside of Oxford. We began the 10-mile walk by an old Roman villa surrounded by luscious farmland and beautiful springtime sun. We walked over meadows and rivers to Blenheim Palace and explored its vast park. In typically English fashion, we took cream tea in the local village while Simon, our host, told stories about the town, the palace and the surrounding fields. Afterwards, we went to his parents’ home where they laid out a scrumptious meal for eight starving hikers of roast, vegetables, potatoes and desserts. And then, we headed drowsily home to Wycliffe Hall.

I stayed overseas after leaving England and explored other meadows but that day will remain cherished in my memory. I am back home now and the year feels surreal. Friends often ask whether Oxford met my expectations. It definitely did and pushed me past my expectations for myself. I am more prepared academically and personally for my senior year at Baylor and for law school in the future. One day I hope to return to the United Kingdom. But until then, I will keep brewing tea and smiling at strangers here in the United States.

PARIS

Name: Ana Laura Vielledent

Hometown: El Paso, Texas

Major: Corporate Communications

Graduation date: May 2018

Parisians do not say, “Bless you” when someone sneezes, smileara bystander, or hold the door open for people. It is known as the “rudeness of the bitter Parisians.” But they do enjoy their family and friends. They savor the taste of fine cuisine and relish their art exhibits. The French know how to live life. It was this lifestyle and a certain je ne sais quoi that I loved about the culture, Paris, France, and my study abroad experience.

I embraced the culture living in the 14 arrondissement (municipal district) of Paris: walking down many streets; eating as many baguettes and croissants as I could; going to art museums, exhibits, and macaron classes; and strolling down Champs Elysees. But I learned a lot more about French culture and its people by traveling.

On my tun to Brussels, my roommate and were completely lost on the metro and could not decipher a mixture of French and German dialect. A man came and helped us find our way. I was so confused as to why the man offered to help us — willingly! It was then that I realized I was accustomed to the grumpy Parisians who do not give you the time of day. Even though I recognized that people in Paris are rude and grumpy, I still felt most at home there.

Amid school and travel, I was fortunate enough to have worked for AXA Global, a financial company where I was exposed to the French work ethic and a diverse workforce. My fellow intern, Ying, was from Shanghai. My bosses were from India, Germany, Spain, Italy, and New England. Working at AXA, I could get a feel or a nornal workday in trance, bur during mv lunch breaks and coffee breaks, I was able to talk to these incredible people with different backgrounds. I learned about their cultures, they gave me travel advice for their country. After visiting their countries, we talked about the differences between life there and in France. It was incredibly eye opening to have so many people from so many cultures, traditions, and backgrounds sitting in the same room as me. I was culturally shocked. There was also a constant language barrier in the office. English was everyone’s second or Ana Vielledent at Notre Dame third language, while French is my third language. It was challenging having to speak a mixture of English and butchered French to be on the same page. It was tough but it was also one of the most rewarding aspects of my experience and it also helped me for the language barriers during my trips.

As I went from city to city, I encountered language barriers, whether 1ewas a on terent trench dialect on another language. It is so frustrating to be unable to communicate with someone, but I learned hand signals are worldwide and that did help most of the time. After visiting 15 cities in six countries and working at AXA for three months, I learned how to over come obstcles and the importance of cultural awareness. I believe that I am prepared for any future career or life obstacle that stands in my way because of what I learned in four short months that weren’t nearly long enough.

LONDON

Name: Kolby Kayworth

Major: Marketing and International Business

Hometown: Waco, Texas

Graduation Year: May 2019

I had seen London many times. I remember the swarming streets of museumgoers in South

– Kensington — their buzzing conversations almost familiar, like a distant dream. I recall climbing the concrete mountain in Westminster tube station to greet Big Ben for the first time. “It’s not so big,” I say. This line is famous within our family.

I was 9 when my mother; two sisters, and I first traveled to London with my father, Dr. Tim Kayworth, a professor of Information Sustems in the Hankamer School of Business and frequent lecturer on the Baylor in Great Britain program. One afternoon my mother dragged me (because I was certain I would not enjoy it, thank you very much) along the West End cobblestones

to see the matinee showine of “Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang”. My reluctance was misplaced, and we sang the tunes all the way home. Once, some earnest English children asked me if cowboys were real. I told them yes, but not in the way they imagined.

Somewhere between the first and fourth trip, the bubbly excitement of visiting London transitioned into that warm nostalgia of returning home. That old feeling returned when, after careful consideration, 1 joined Baylor’s London FIE (Foundation for International Education) program. This semester study abroad includes classes with British teachers and, the clincher for me, an internship placement with a British business.

One by one, all 12 of us received our internships, and presented them like new puppies – with an electric strain of giddiness. I was assigned to Beulah London, a fashion brand with an anti-human-trafficking focus.

I suppose I’ll never find a more varied group of individuals. From the logical bunch to the free spirited doers to the journalist-photographer who was always lagging behind, we had one core commonality: we wanted to know London. In one of our ongoing kitchen conversations, one student said, “You visit The Eiffel Tower. You snap the picture that is no better than thousands online. You essentially live that moment through your phone.” I quietly placed my phone faced down on the table.

There’s gravity in a timed excursion, especially when you can miss months of cultural immersion due to a preoccupation with capturing social media highlights. So, with intentionality as the combatant, we jotted down some objectives.

A family member once shared the secret to truly understanding a new place, country, or people. While the general American style of travel (especially to Europe) packs in extraordinary bucket-list sights and ends with a full camera of memories, he explained my advantage of time would conclude with cultural competence and broadened perspectives. But few people have the luxury of escaping responsibility for four months to discover a new culture. So, I decided to capitalize on this gift of time, starting with grabbing a folded news-paper, which I stuffed under my arm, feeling British.

I found the English at Beulah London. The family of women fleshed out those elusive subtleties, which like smoke, I could see but not catch. My first lesson was this: if someone asks, “Would you mind phoning me if you have a second?” They really mean, “Call me. Now.”

Also, out of civility, my mispronunciations were left uncorrected. I found the Beulah girls to be hard working, and while they take work seriously, they view vacation even more seriously. Not using a holiday is the sign of looming insanity. Also, the weather must always be discussed – especially to be griped about in a good humored way. I also learned peanut butter is not something one lathers on fruit, and that just because the British speak English, speaking on the phone isn’t always easy. I once asked a man on the receiver five times to repeat his name because I couldn’t understand him. It was David.

But it was the day of the terror attack a few months ago that left my lasting memory of the British. The wailing sirens seemed to speed by – all running in the same direction. I learned later that, on the bridge where Big Ben casts shadows over Parliament, a terrorist used a car to mow innocent down people, throwing some into the River Thames. (A student said the current is so strong that miracles save those facing the murky waters.) The immediate aftermath seemed no different from an American response: Parliament locked down, the bridges closed, and the police patrolled in pairs.

What separated the ordeal was the distinctly British composure. A faint picture of the Londoners during the Blitz, the series of German bombing that destroyed most of London during WWII, reeled across my mind. Winston Churchill said, “All the world that is still free marvels at the composure and fortitude with which the citizens of London are facing and surmounting the great ordeal…” Almost 80 years later, the Mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, stood before the media and said, “Londoners — and others from around the world who have come here to visit this great city — will get up and go about their day as normal.” A peek into British culture would show you that the British weapon of choice is resilience. I witnessed what Churchill called the “tough fiber of the Londoner” as they emerged from their shires to face another day.

When spring came, the sky shed the grey skin to reveal the coveted sun. We shed wool coats instead. Lush and flowers appeared in a haphazard way: speckled in fields, littered on the sidewalks from trees heavy with petals, and snaked up the brick walls. Now I could see the dawn and the chestnut horses which clip-clopped on the cobblestone with their police riders. London had a whole new light. We squished our suitcases, sitting on them to force the zipper shut, and we discussed the outcomes of our hopes for the semester. The time was more full than our suitcases full of conflicts and growth and tears and infectious laughter, but I knew we all shared one part of our stories. We knew London.

SCOTLAND

Name: Maggie Wilson

Hometown: Mount Union, Pennsylvania

Major: Mathematics

Graduation date: May 2018

Everything I’ve seen and done during my time version of the person I was when I started my journey; a more confident, ambitious and courageous person made the transatlantic flight back to the United States. If I had to choose the most influential experience from the nine months I spent in Scotland I could do so easily. On April 7, 2017 I laced up my hiking boots and took my first steps on the West Highland Way, a 96-mile trail that would take me through some of the most incredible parts of Scotland and show me some of the most incredible parts of myself.

Walking the entire West Highland Way was unlike anything I had ever done before, and I had no idea what those six days on the trail had in store for me. I was unsure if I could accomplish something so physically and mentally demanding, and I questioned whether or not I’d be able to make it to Fort William, Scotland, the endpoint for northbound hikers like myself. But my desire complete the hike was greater than my fears of failing, so I strapped on my rucksack and started out on Mile No. 1 in Milngavie, Scotland, the first mile of 96 that would test my endurance and teach me what it truly means to persevere.

The trail passes through some of the most beautiful parts of Scotland. It traces the eastern bank of Loch Lomond, cuts through the heart of Rannoch Moor, and winds between and over the mountains of Glencoe. As a study abroad student, it was the best opportunity to see a side of Scotland that not everyone gets the chance to see. I thought I had fallen in love with the country when I first arrived, but had no idea that such immense beauty could be found in the heart of the Scottish wil-derness. It was extraordinary.

When the sign marking the end of the West Highland Way came into sight, I could not have been happier. All of the literal blood, sweat and tears were suddenly trivial and I was struck with the realization of what I had just accomplished. A hike of this length took its toll on my body. I was tired, my legs and feet were sore, my back was bruised from where my rucksack rested on it, and I was mentally worn out, but I am glad I kept going. The greatest fear I had was failing, not what lurked in the dark woods or any danger I might come across, and I overcame it. There’s something about pushing yourself farther than you thought you could go that is so freeing. Any limits I thought there were on what I am capable of have been shattered thanks to the opportunities I had while studying abroad.

Hiking the West Highland Way was very similar to my whole study abroad experience. I left for a journey in a country in which I knew no one, and I went alone, with only myself to rely on. I questioned whether it was something I could accomplish before, and even sometimes during, but afterwards I felt like nothing was out of my reach. My independence, determination and belief in my capabilities have increased exponentially. I have shown myself that nothing is “too hard” or “impossible” because I have friends and family, near and far, who support me, as well as the willingness to persevere, whether through homesickness or raw wilderness.