I could tell it was going to be a perfect August beach day the morning I left Spring Lake, New Jersey and departed for my semester in London. I threw my suitcase in the trunk of my dad’s car, said goodbye to my dog, and took one final look at the town that had been my safety net for the past eighteen years. My parents and I made our way to J.F.K. International Airport where my journey began. I am the baby of the family so with heavy hearts my mother and father kissed their last child goodbye and made their way back to their “empty nest.” That day in the airport seems like just yesterday. I remember looking around at my new classmates and realizing that these people were all just as crazy as I was by agreeing to go abroad the first semester of college. I boarded the plane and looked out the window with the side of my head pressed up against the glass. I glanced over the wings of the airplane and said a silent thank you to the people, places, and experiences I had endured so far in my life, for I knew that when I returned home in mid-December everything would be different. I would be different. Seven hours later we touched down at Heathrow International Airport. Later that morning, jet-lagged and in desperate need of a shower, we finally made it to South Kensington where we were greeted by the shiny gold plaque outside our residence that read, “The Crofton.” I got off the coach bus and collected my luggage. “Welcome to your new home,” said the bus driver as he handed me my last bag. I looked around quickly examining my surroundings. At that moment, I knew that studying abroad in London was about much more than going to class every day and receiving credits for my college back in South Carolina. Studying abroad was going to teach me skills through personal experiences that I would take with me long after my college years. This was about to change my life. So eager, scared, and definitely ready to shower, I lugged my bags through the front door of The Crofton and began my journey.

I will never forget the first day my roommates and I went grocery shopping at Stainsburys. After finally navigating ourselves to the destination, despite Siri’s complete lack of help, we stepped inside looking like 5-year-olds who lost their mothers in the store. Only we were not 5 -- we were 18 and 19 years old. And as for our moms, they were 3,000 miles away. So we began our first shopping adventure. Unlike grocery carts in America, we could not just simply use a cart for free. In fact, the carts were all locked together and would not unlock until we deposited 50 pents into the coin slot. That was a quick, yet panicky way to teach us how to use the GBP system. Understanding the money exchange took time but definitely became much easier than I thought that first bizarre day.

Along with learning to use a different currency, London quickly showed me there were many things I would need to change and adapt to if I ever expected to survive without the words, “I am a tourist” written across my forehead. These specific things vary; however, they have all proven to obtain the same level of importance. For example, waiting in line? No, that’s called queueing here and if I did not “queue up” correctly I would be escorted into the queue with the help of a smiling security guard, who slightly resembled Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. And then there’s tube, which is the equivalent to what American’s know as the subway. There is an automated voiceover that informs passengers of the next stop. Perhaps they should add to the automated dialogue, “Please mind the gap between the train and the platform AND if you say one word above the volume of a whisper on this train please expect every single person to stare until you stop… Thank you.” Another important thing I learned, there is no half and half here in London, which means there is also no cream. So after being turned down from multiple places for a regular coffee with cream, I quickly came up with an alternative order that has proven to save my life on more than one occasion. All hail the latte. I mean the Queen?

Aside from quirky adaptations and lingo that I have picked up on in London, I also had the opportunity and pleasure of traveling to places outside of England. It is crucial to note that I am not an expert traveler. In fact, I could not remember the last plane I was on prior to coming here in August. However, that all changed when my roommate and I started planning weekend adventures. Expedia quickly became a familiar friend and if you don’t, believe me, you can check my emails that I receive from them daily. After traveling to Ireland, France, Spain, and the Netherlands I feel confident in applauding myself for the progress I have made thus far as a young traveler. Even though I had nothing to worry about, going through security use to give me nightmares. Now I already have my shoes off, laptop in the tray, and liquids in a plastic bag, before they can even ask me to step forward. Each country I visited during my stay here has given me an overwhelming sense of culture and existence outside of the U.S. I was able to see the beautiful landscapes of Ireland, witness The Eiffel Tower sparkling at night in Paris, mingle and explore a deserted beach town in Spain and re-enact scenes of my favorite movie in the heart of Amsterdam. Prior to setting off for these trips, I came to terms with the fact that studying abroad in Europe was something that I may never get to do again. I’m not sure when, or even if, I will make it to Europe again in my lifetime. The future remains unseen to me so I must open the door every time opportunity comes knocking.

One of my favorite things about living in London is being surrounded by various cultures every day. From the moment I step outside of The Crofton, I can be in the company of a different gender, race, age, heritage, or religion walking next to me on the sidewalk. This is most evident when I hear multiple languages or accents being spoken around me. It is not hard to distinguish the heavy brogue of the Irishman sitting next to me on the tube angrily reading today’s headlines, or the woman holding her child’s hand as they cross the street speaking Arabic. Nor is it difficult to distinguish the delicately spoken businesswoman speaking over her Bluetooth in contrast to the cockney construction workers laughing on the corner during their lunch-break. It is no wonder that when my friends and I go out together we meet the most interesting people who are just as intrigued with life in America as we are about life in Europe. That is quite possibly the best thing about meeting people here. More often than not, the people we meet are also not from England. From Australians to French, everyone else is just as out of place as I find myself at times, which delivers me with a sense of relief. London is a melting pot bringing people of all kinds together to experience everything it has to offer.

I will admit, going abroad the first semester of my freshman year of college was not in my immediate plans. I knew I wanted to travel eventually, but I was never sure when I would get the chance being I am so young and have no real career planned out for me after college. In spite of this, when the College of Charleston granted me with this unimagined opportunity I knew it was something special that I would regret if I turned down. I made this decision in the winter of my senior year of high school. It is funny to look back at myself one year ago and realize who I thought I was was nowhere near who I am today. I began to mature earlier than most people my age, for no other reason than pure curiosity. In high school, I constantly questioned things. These questions led to me finding answers, in which taught me more about the world and myself. When all my friends were making their final decision for which university they would be attending in the fall, I was trying my hardest to defend and explain my decision to leave the country for three months, instead of just the state of New Jersey, as so many of them were. It certainly threw everyone for a loop, but they all had the same comment. “Well, if anyone were to do something like that, it would be you,” is what I heard constantly. At the time I wasn’t sure exactly what they meant by this and honestly I still don’t, but in any case, I decided to do it and I was not looking for anyone’s approval, but I appreciated the support. I spent months leading up to my departure for England reading books, watching movies, researching whatever it was that would help me survive my new life in London so that when I returned to the states, I could show everyone who doubted me how cultured and well-rounded my trip made me. But now it is the last weekend of November and I am beginning to think about coming home in only two short weeks. I am questioning what it is my friends will think has changed most about me. I can tell them about the adjustments I made to live in a foreign country, and the way I have gained international travel experience, and I can even describe my exposure to different cultures, but none of those stand out to me. Telling my friends stories about me studying abroad is a positive external effect. It gives them a sense of clarity to see what I was physically doing while we were separated for three months. And although that is all well and good, there is no positive internal effect I am receiving from just that.

I feel confident in saying that I have completely changed as a person over the last semester and that is something I do not have to explain to my friends in order for them to see. I came here unsure of what I was looking for and I am leaving with one answer. I was looking for myself, and I do not care how cheesy, John Green, that sounds. I was looking for myself in a brand new city that I was completely lost on the first day. I watched myself grow as an individual leader, a quality I was never comfortable in showing before. But here, in London, it beams through me every day. Not in the form of telling others what to do or enforcing some type of unrealistic authority, but in the form of being my own person. I control my actions, my thoughts, my opinions. I am the leader of my own life and there is no one here to try and prove otherwise. I am happy with my accomplishments and overall experiences I have made here. When I look back on that first day, that feeling of being lost almost swallowed me whole, but it was that feeling that allowed me to feel found. The fun and excitement will be missed when I leave, but I am ready to go home. And although that home is New Jersey, I will always consider London a part of my home, just like the bus driver called it on that very first day.