Click for the previous article, ‘How I managed to pay for my study abroad | Part 3‘.

Looking out of the plane window as we approached the United Kingdom coast, I remember how remarkably green everything was and how novel the wavy field patterns looked from above. We hadn’t even landed yet, and I was already in awe.

I took out my Kindle Scribe and, inspired, I began to write.

Our home base for the first week was the Harlaxton Manor estate, a sprawling 19th-century mansion in Grantham, England. It was surrounded by fields, blanketed in white flowers and lilac-lined gardens.

Walking its extensive hallways, I kept thinking about how dream-like everything was, and how I once thought I would never experience anything like it.

From Harlaxton, we traveled to York, Leicester and London, where we toured both as a group and independently. In England, York was a particular favorite. I was enchanted by The Shambles, a crooked medieval street that’s often associated with Diagon Alley from Harry Potter.

Being surrounded by centuries of history was eye-opening, and I realized how small my view of the world can get sometimes. 


Experiencing a place like this, unfiltered, is so different than learning about it through books, movies or social media.

For our free weekend, I took a train to Scotland, I rented a car, and drove on the left side of the road for the first time! I stayed in a bed & breakfast on the coast, climbed a mountain, found a waterfall in a “fairy forest”, and landed in Edinburgh.

This was the highlight of the trip for me, my pilgrimage. Recalling it now, I ache to go back; I will go back. A piece of me remains in Scotland, and not just because I lost my Stanley cup at the Waverley train station.

Standing in the misty mountains of Glencoe, I felt limitless.

I had spent so much time questioning my ability to make something like this happen. Being there, watching cars that looked like ants traverse the winding roads beneath me, I knew I was capable of anything.