Thoughts on a New Adventure

I’ve moved. To the South Bronx. Sometimes I wonder what in the world I’m doing here. But then I realize that the real question is, What is God doing here? That is what is important. It is only then that I can figure out what I’m doing and where I fit. Because to the outside eye, I certainly don’t fit. I am always the only white person on the train, and rarely is there another white person walking around the area. I spent two weeks here commuting back to Manhattan to babysit and barely had time to spend in my new neighborhood. It created a strange sense of tension, having slept in the poorest neighborhood in the US and then going to a 4^th grader’s moving away party cocktail party that Sarah Jessica Parker was at. Needless to say, I felt way more out of place at that party than I ever have in my new neighborhood.

 

Anyhow, on my day off I was able to walk around and get a sense of the area and I realized how wonderful it is. The community here is evident. Instead of sitting inside watching TV, all the kids are out on the street playing.  People hang out outside and enjoy each other. And they’re friendly! I can’t wait to see where God is working. I know He’s working in me and is working through the ministry here. It will be so exciting to get to know the area more and really understand life here. It’s beginning to feel like home. The other interns moved in yesterday and we are all excited to get started preparing for camp!

By the Numbers

Going to bed on Sunday, I expected a slow four days of waiting to go to Colorado for the weekend. The days that actually stood between me and Colorado actually contained quite a bit:

• 40 hours of work
• 2 sick kids
• 4 chapters of Narnia read out loud
• 3 train tracks built
• 1 new apartment!
• 3 loads of laundry
• 5 episodes of Gilmore Girls
• 3 time outs for hitting given
• 17 subway rides
• 3 hours wandering Central Park
• 2 hours getting to and from the Hudson River to watch the Space Shuttle being brought to the museum
• 1394 (estimated) text messages about babysitting schedules and apartment stuff
• 2 bus rides
• 100 pages of Mere Christianity
• 3 puzzles
• 12 (at least) bumps and bruises kissed
• 1 good-bye to a friend for the summer
• 6 games of hide and seek
• 50 or so times I found myself singing this song. Listen to it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0sTzs9Ym0Q


And now, just a 4 hour plane ride! It will be wonderful to get away from it all for a bit.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Last night I watched the movie Nanny Diaries. It was cute, but it hit really close to home. While my friends laughed as the kid threw a tantrum in the elevator and locked her out, all I could think was, "Yeah, that has totally happened to me." Now, by no means are either of my two nanny jobs that bad. I don't work full time, and the moms are very involved in their children's lives. But I definitely come in contact with nannies and families who are like that.  It will never cease to amaze me that most families in NYC leave it to a nanny to raise their children, or at least use one to help full time moms (paying them exuberant amounts).

Recently, my nannying experience has brought me face-to-face with some celebrities and their kids. I must say, I am the last person to celebrity stalk. I'm pretty clueless when it comes to actors and for the most part can't even name the ones in my favorite movies. And if someone hadn't been there to point them out to me or if I knew I was looking for them, I could probably walk right past people without giving them a second glance. Luckily, the mom I nanny for gave me a heads up that some celebs sent their kids to the school her kids go to. As I was picking up the kids one day I was brought face to face with Meg Ryan. That was pretty exciting because I can actually name a few of the movies she's in. Then, at the park, Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker's son introduced himself to me. As in he said, "Hi, are you (x's) new babysitter, L? I'm James." I was a bit astonished to say the least. The other day I spotted his mom picking him up at school. It's a strange life.

Sometimes I think that the families I nanny for are just so normal, but really, normal is very different in the city. This week alone I was left watching kids in apartments where someone else (not the mom) was cleaning twice. Another woman was worried about leaving me with all 3(gasp!) of her young boys for a half hour. The baby was sleeping, and I told her that I had experience babysitting four at a time. She seemed surprised that the house was still together when she got back since the baby was awake. The moms I have come to know here all have this same sense of dependence on help. It's not all bad, and hey, if you can afford someone to give you several hours of self-time a week, why wouldn't you. And living in small apartments without a backyard to send your kids to, and having to walk, take the subway, or catch a cab wherever you go adds some difficulty to life. But really, I sometimes wonder.

A Trip on the Q

I wake up, it's Sunday, I get ready to go
Choose out a punjabi top, decide headscarf or no
Walk down the deserted streets of midtown
Hop down the stairs to the train going downtown.

Get on the subway, choose an empty seat.
Most people get off at 14th Street.
Small children with several books in Chinese
Are off to school at Canal street, their parents to please.

Up out of the dark and the sun shines bright
I look out and see the Freedom Tower standing upright.
Across the bridge we move slowly, watching the East River flow
Down into Brooklyn, I've got 10 stops to go.

Very few people move on this quiet train ride
And a few stops later into the sun we again glide.
With all the different people the ride is never a bore
A woman completely covered comes in through the door.

The last sip of coffee from my to-go mug I drink
Avenue J for Jesus, she had said, I think.
He will be working today, I haven't a doubt.
And with that prayer we stop and I step out.

It's a different world than an hour ago
Women wear long skirts, their knees do not show.
Strollers have command of the sidewalks
I take everything in and enjoy the short walk.

I see the women, "Salaam Aleekum" I say
How are you and your family today?
English, the pledge, and writing we teach
But hopefully it's their hearts we will reach.

A trip on the Q brought me all this way
And only 2 hours each week will we all stay.
I remember my days in Sudan and Nepal
And know that by my ride on the Q I continue to follow that call.

Why Hello There Life, I Didn't Expect You So Soon!

Pre-Script (I'm not sure if that's actually a term, so don't quote it) : Yes I do still blog! Yes, it has been a while, but I'm still here, writing down my random thoughts once in while just in case you're interested...

I guess there has to come a time in every person's life when they realize,"This is it. This is no longer a dream, it's a reality. I am doing what I wanted to do 'when I grow up'". I suppose for some people this is a rather disappointing moment, for others it brings amazement.

For me, it brought amazement. But what shocked me was not as much that I was actually living life, but it was that I was living life at 21 years old. For a long time, I had dreamed of living in the Sahara desert. Yeah, that's weird. But I've done it. I set a goal in high school to one day run a half marathon, maybe a full. And as of this upcoming Saturday, I can check that off my list. I want to get to know a city on each continent really well (minus Antarctica!). I'm well on my way, with North America, Asia, and Africa already off the list. I knew that someday, when I went to college that I'd want to get a degree in Economics, even though I had no clue how that would help me with any of the sort of careers I wanted. And now, I'm on my way to getting it, along with knowing and understanding where it might fit in my life.

I sit here and wonder, is the life I'm living real, or was it all a dream? When am I going to wake up, and find that I'm still in Loveland,  doing everyday stuff in a life where I feel I'm following a script? But no, I'm not going to wake up. This is real. I haven't had to live a scripted life. I'm living what I dreamed life would be right now. There are still some dreams left, but I've been amazed to see that what I've dreamed, God has already made so many of these dreams a reality. I didn't go off chasing these dreams, I went off chasing God. I knew I was being called to spend time in an Arab nation, and the one He directed me to happened to place me in the desert. I didn't go off looking to find a school with an economics program, I was looking for a school that would help put me in the middle of politics, where I was feeling called. The school I found that had the mission statement and opportunities I needed happens to offer the major I wanted in combination with economics. When I've gone off chasing Him, I've found that He really does give me the desires of my heart, in the most unexpected of ways, in the most unexpected timing.

So, stop for a moment. Look at where you are. You might be living a life that you dreamed of at some point. Sure, it probably isn't quite a rosy as you dreamed it, but stop and enjoy it for what it is- a fulfilled dream.

An Almost-End-of-the-Semester Letter

Dear New York City,

I have quite enjoyed our last several months together. Before I came here, I thought you were just an American city that had a ton of diversity. But I was very wrong. You are, in fact, an international city that happens to be claimed by America. You have no Wal-marts or King Soopers and have very few Christians. I walk everywhere, but I appreciate that it is on paved streets and not in the dirt.  I like that I hear different languages daily, yet everyone understands when I speak. In you I spend my afternoons with the richest people I've ever known and then ride the subway home with beggars. I never expected you to present so many challenges. Although I spend 15 hours a week in classes and even more doing homework, you have taught me the most. You've taught me to only wear sweats in my apartment and that the world is more messed-up than I wanted to believe. At the same time, you've taught me to ignore the people around me and that people are always willing to give directions. Now I'm ready to end this learning curve. I would like a chance for a nice, big deap breath. In two weeks, I'll be looking up at mountains instead of the Empire State Building, sitting at a quiet coffee shop instead of walking to two or three before finding one with an empty seat, and walking up and down the ailes (with a cart!) of King Soopers instead of pushing through Trader Joe's in hope of finding the groceries I need. I'm really looking foward to it, but I know that in three weeks I'll probably be missing you. After I gulp air in Estes Park and get a chance to drive, I'll be ready to come back. So please don't get mad at me for wanting to leave really badly right now. Be waiting for me when I come running back ready to take you on again in January.

Your loving resident,
L

One Year

One year ago today, I began my life-changing adventure in Africa. I've been thinking a lot about what has changed in me in the last year. Most people assume that Africa was life-changing because I saw poverty and a bunch of weird customs. But that's not what changed me. Before I went, I had been in much more impoverished areas and I think I run into more strange customs here in New York City each week than I did in my 6 months in Africa. I didn't change because it was a cross-cultural experience. I changed because of the people I met there.

I quickly learned that life there is hard. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I didn't couldn't understand how hard life is there. The heat, the isolation, the pressure of speaking a different language when you leave the house, trying to be a light-, all caused days when I just didn't want to get out of bed. I wasn't alone in all of this though. All the ex-pat women who I met there understood. They had gone through the same things. They were going through the same things. And most of these women are still pushing through there. They raise their families there, they make a home and they live lives that show the evidence of the Spirit that lives inside of them. These women taught me hospitality, how to follow God even when it means giving up some of your own wants, and how to love the people around you. They give of themselves each day, making a place home, even when they have no assurance that it will be home the next year. They bend over backwards to serve yet know when they need to stop to take care of themselves. I learned that family are the people who you sit around the dinner table with, who search the stores until they find crackers for you when you're sick, and who invite you to sit and cry and talk when they know that it is what you need.

These women showed me how to be like Jesus day in and day out. They walked out their faith. They are real life examples of  who I want to be. They showed me what being like Jesus looks like and how to continually be going through the process to get there. And that's what changed me.

Photo of the Day

Just the view from my window tonight!

Church Shopping

Pretty much the only time I miss 'home' is on Sunday when I go to church. I've tried a few really good churches here in the city and liked most of them. But they just aren't Good Shepherd. I don't expect them to be, but I really miss it. Today I was trying to figure out what I missed about it. Of course, I miss my friends there, and I miss knowing what to expect when I walk in the doors. I remember though, after having been searching for churches in Colorado Springs coming home and realizing that if I had just moved there and was searching for a church, G Shep probably wouldn't necessarily be the one I would choose. I would be wary of the fact that it is non-denominational, and the worship was just okay (on the other hand, I love worship with the youth groups). So why do I miss it so much? And why is it so much harder to look over some aspects that I haven't liked about the churches I've tried in the city?

This is what I realized today. I was a part of the body at G Shep. I've served there in different ministries for almost 10 years. It's not that I liked every aspect of it or thougth it was doing everything right. It's that I was a part of the living, breathing church body there. In the end, it came down not to the nitty-gritty theological beliefs or whether worship was contemperary or done with hymns. It wasn't about if every sermon is great and is exactly what I needed to hear. It was that I was a part of it and it's hard to disconnect from the body I've been a part of for 12 years. It really is like family- you don't always like them or everything about them, but they are a vital part of who you are you are a part of them. So instead of looking at having a hard time finding a church here as a bad thing, I'm going to start seeing it as a reminder of how we are supposed to be a part of the church. It is good that I miss my church back home, because it means I was a real part of it. Meanwhile, hopefully I can find a church that even though it may not fit everything on my checklist, will be a place that I can become a part of.

Flashback

This is a story I wrote for my college writing class about my time in Africa that I thought I'd share with you all!

        One event is all it took for me to feel assured of my independence. Having just moved to Khartoum, Sudan, I was in a completely new environment. The weather was different, the way I dressed was different, and the language spoken around me was different. More than anything I wanted to make this place my home, but at the same time, I felt completely inadequate in my ability to do anything on my own.

            Then I was asked to go get bread for dinner. I could feel panic rising in my throat, but I choked it down and smiled. I had not yet been out on the streets alone in this strange world. Memorizing the directions was step one. I was to walk down the main street, turn left at the blinking star and then keep going until I got to the bakery. Hopefully, I could make it to the main street without getting turned around. Sliding a scarf over my head, I grabbed the money and crumpled it tightly in my fist.

    After making it to the main street and seeing the blinking star, I sighed out of relief. I walked with my head slightly down, careful not to make eye contact with the men roaming the street. As I turned left, I began to feel apprehensive about what would occur next. Would the men understand what I wanted when I gave them the money? Could I clearly communicate without using words that I wanted the round bread?

         I pulled the small rope handle and walked in as a cool blast of air glided out. No one was at the counter. I stood there, unsure of what protocol was in this culture. After a moment of feeling self-conscious, a timid “Salam?” slipped out of my mouth. It seemed like hours later, but a man finally came out. I pushed my worn money toward him. When he said something that sounded like a question, I made a circle with my hands. Apparently I had given him the correct information, because he promptly grabbed a bag of round loaves and handed it to me.

        My walk home was pleasant. I felt powerful knowing that, although I could not yet speak the language, I could communicate clearly with the people around me. I was a part of this place, and I fit in with all the others who bought their bread each day. It wasn’t going to be simple living here by myself, but I could do it.

Photo of the Day

Sorry for the bit of blur. And it's too bad it was so cloudy this evening, because the lights would have been a lot better.

We Will Never Forget

I didn't enjoy eating lunch on the ground today, but my friends and I will never complain about the reason why there were no seats:

Hello New York!

For some reason I thought I left craziness behind me when I left Africa.

Boy was I wrong. There's a lot that has happened the past two weeks, with moving to NYC, starting school and meeting tons of new people. But maybe the craziest thing that has happened was having two (2!) natural disasters occur in the course of one week.

Apparently there was an earthquake last Tuesday. And I guess people felt it here. But I was in a basement, so I didn't feel or even hear anything. I'm still going to count it as my first earthquake experience.

Then we spent our first weekend inside, with college student evacuees sleeping on the floor of our tiny apartment. The most unfortunate part of it all was that it was for absolutely nothing. Nothing happened. We got some rain, but that's it. No super high winds that woke us up while sleeping on the 22nd floor, no flooding in the streets. Nothing. However, we did get a day off school!

It all reminded me of the times in Africa when something big and bad was supposed to happen, and then nothing did. It's not bad, but it it is a let down.

This week has been slightly more normal. I'm growing used to the city and learning to love it. It is like nothing else in the world and holds many new adventures!

My Summer

I thought I'd catch you all up on what I did this summer. It wasn't anything too excititng, which is why you haven't heard from me!

Here were some of the highlights after I got back from Africa:



My sister graduated high school- Congrats Elise!



I went backpacking with some friends over the 4th of July. It was a lot of fun!



I climed to the top of Long's Peak for the first time as part of a memorial climb. It was a lot harder than I thought, but it was a great group of people to climb with!


And lastly, I went to Michigan for a vacation. I got to see my cousins whom I hadn't seen in three years!




Aren't they cute? We spent a morning out on a lake on a canoe trail, which is kind of like a hiking trail, but on water. It was beautiful and a lot of fun!



The rest of my summer was filled with a LOT of babysitting, which I enjoyed quite a bit. And although summer is always a lot of fun, I think I'm quite ready for the fall and the start of school and getting into a normal routine!

The Rearview Mirror

Have you ever looked into your rear-view mirror while driving and been completely astonished at what you saw there? I'm not talking about the shock of seeing an accident or what the driver behind you may or may not be doing, but of seeing a sight of breath-taking beauty. I'll never forget the day I was driving to school as the sun began to rise (because for some reason the school system thinks that having teenagers start the school day at the crack of dawn is a good thing) I looked in my rear-view mirror and instead of seeing a sea of other vehicles driven by my friends and the parents of freshmen and sophomores I saw the mountains. The sun was hitting them in a way that made them glow. At a stoplight I turned around to look, but I was disappointed. It was a beautiful sight, but for some reason wasn't as captivating as looking at it through the mirror. If you've never had this experience, I encourage you to sometime look at the scenery behind you, whether it's a field, the Rocky Mountains, or the sun setting.

I've been back in America for 3.5 months now and it's been strange, to say the least. I don't ride buses, cover my head, or struggle to communicate every day now. Life is full of convenience, and with that convenience come a certain blandness. I've yet to go a single day without thinking about how much I liked life in Africa and wanting to go back. When I look back I see the wonderful times I had, the ways I grew and the wonderful relationships I built. From this perspective, I loved it there. But somehow, a rear-view mirror can make things look better. Somewhere in my memories are the weeks and months that I cried, not knowing how I'd make it through the day. I know I came home most days exhausted, hot, sweaty, and lonely. And there were the days that all I wanted was to get away from it all. However, these memories don't seem to affect the longing that I have to go back and the way I see the time I had there as absolutely wonderful. I guess that's just what happens when looking through a rear-view mirror. The valleys aren't what stand out, it's the majestic mountains when it's all put into one small glance.

Unfortunately, it's somewhat hard to steer constantly looking in my rear-view mirror at Africa. I'm moving forward. Towards New York. New York City, to be exact. It will be quite the new adventure for this small town girl. I survived Africa, but I'm still not so sure how I'll handle New York.  But I'm looking forward to it!

Things I Subconsciously Miss

Living here is a lot different than my life in the States, in case you haven't figured that out! I like my life here, and I rarely find myself thinking about things or people I miss. But in the past few weeks some things have hit me that I didn't realize I missed.

~ I miss looking out my window and seeing mountains. The other day I was out near the outskirts of town and in the distance I could see hills; tiny hills, but hills none the less. I stopped and turned to just look at them. My friend who was with me is from a flat part of the States and didn't quite understand why I was so excited. Neither did the people walking by us. I've now changed my desktop to a picture that I took on my way out of town with the pink sky of sunrise behind the Rockies.

~ I miss driving. I knew that I missed it some degree, mostly because of the freedom that it brings, but today as I exited school, I reached into my purse and grabbed my keys to start finding the car key. It was a strange moment of confusion when I realized what I was doing.

~ I miss my sisters' closets and sharing clothes. Yesterday, my dear friend S gave me some tops to borrow for the next month to add some variety to clothes I've been wearing for the last 5 months. I can't wait to get home and raid my sisters' closets when I want something a little different (watch out E!).

I know that soon, I'll have these things, and I'll be missing everything here, but as long as I don't dwell on what I don't have, I think it's healthy to miss things sometimes.

Bubble Up, Bubble Down

Bubble Up: I got to ride in one of the new busses around here- the kind that has air conditioning! It was by far the most enjoyable bus ride of my entire life. The seats were plastic, which means no strange parts sticking into your back, the door open and close with the push of a button, and there are two TVs in there. Quite upscale for this country!

Bubble Down: My trip on the air conditioned bus brought me to a place where I had to walk by a large pile of burning trash, and I now smell like it. Yuck.

What Happens Between 100 and 105 Degrees

Well, it is officially Spring. That is, it's Spring where the season actually exsists. In this country, it doesn't. Yesterday, the weather did have some changes here though. It got seriously hot, and I think the warmth is here to stay. For me, this heat is uncharted teritory. I've maybe experienced over 100 degree weather before, but certainly not without air conditioning. When it gets above 98 at home those are deemed good days to stay inside and watch movies or go to the pool. But yesterday, when it was over 100, I was galavanting around town on foot and non-air conditioned buses, not to mention that I had on an undershirt beneath my long-sleeved one and a scarf on my head. I'm not quite sure why the heat didn't affect me very much, but that might have been because I knew there was a milkshake waiting for me at the end :)

So what am I discovering about life in this range of temperatures?

First off, it wears me out! It takes a lot of energy just to get from point A to point B on a super warm bus.

Second, you have to always carry water on you. I feel like a fish with all the water I've been consuming in the past few days.

When it's this hot out, I can wash, dry and wear a single item of clothing in one afternoon- even towels only take two hours to dry.

Unfortunately, it's not hot enough to fry an egg outside- I'll experiment again when we get to the 110 degree range.

An iced/cold coffee becomes luke-warm faster here than a hot one does when put outside on a wintery day.

People often take the bus for just a few short blocks.

And maybe most importantly, I've learned to be thankful for God's design of sweating. Eww, I know. But it really does do the job to cool the body down. Plus, I just have had to get used to it- I begin to persperate on the walk from my bedroom to the bathroom.

I'm sure that soon I'll be wishing we could have some more 100 degree days instead of the warmer ones that are bound to come- I just hope I can survive this first!

Would You Like Some Tea with that Sugar?

One thing this country likes is it's sugar. Today I experienced just how sugary they like their drinks. I've always been amazed watching them add sugar to their tea, wondering how they drink it so sweet. It is completely normal to add 5 teaspoons of sugar to their 8 oz glass of tea here. (Just as a side note- yes, a glass of tea. And yes, it is hot tea. And you're lucky if the glass has a handle. I think I have some permanent marks on my fingers where I have held a burning hot glass of tea. I've drank hot tea from metal cups without handles in Nepal before, and I thought that was crazy. But let me tell you, the glass cups are much, much worse. So don't go complaining when your barista hands you your cup of coffee without a little cardboard holder, be thankful that your hot drink in in a paper cup! End of side note...) When I tell a host that I would like just one spoon of sugar in my tea, they raise their eyebrows in disbelief that I only want one. I've found that one spoonfull creates a delightful blend of the tastes of the tea with a little sweetness. Sometimes, though, I'll go for two if I'm in more of a mood for a southern sweet tea. But today, I didn't really get a chance to specify how I like my tea. They handed me a glass and I couldn't turn it down. Plus, I thought, why not expierence what a 1/2 inch of sugar in a glass with some tea added to it tastes like. I figured it would just be super sweet, not bad, just not exactly how I like my tea.

Have you ever had a cup of really strong coffee, or eaten something extremely spicy that tastes good, but you can only take tiny bites of it? That is the best I can come to describing this for you. The sweet taste was so strong and overpowering I could barely drink it. I'm not even sure why the tea was there- I certainly couldn't taste it! After getting through the thankfully small 8 oz of tea and eating some biscuits there was still some sugar at the bottom that hadn't dissolved in the hot water!

Another example of their addiction to sweets lies in this picture:

Do you see what's in the bottle? No, it's not bright red grape juice. It's fanta. In a baby bottle. And just for the record, although the white baby is trying to get ahold of the bottle, her mother wouldn't let her! But it is completely normal here for people to go around giving small children sweets, which is probably how they develop such a sweet tooth. It's not a taste I plan on acquiring, though- I don't want to come home and have to add sugar to my coke to make it taste good!

Sticky Sweet Moments

My hand is sticky. I could go wash it, but I almost don't want to. Because that would be equivalent to wiping away a kiss. The little girl who grabbed my hand just made me smile. We walked down a bit of the road together. I came upon her as I walked to get a bus. She and a few of her small-sized companions were playing on the dirt road running up and down a mound sitting next to a gate. There were definitely some squeals of joy coming from that group. She was the brave one, coming right up to me, reaching for my hand, and talking to me. She spoke clearly to me, asking me two words repeatedly. Unfortunately, I didn't know what those two words meant; I could only tell that I didn't know them. She was likely trying to beg, but she obviously wasn't a beggar. Her clothes were covered in dust and shabby, but she didn't have a "poor me" face on, or show me that she wanted food like most do. I simply told her that I didn't understand her, but she didn't let go of my hand. After stopping for a moment I began to keep walking, her hand in mine, with the others following close behind. At some point she let go and a few of the others came up, grabbing at my hand. I shook each little one that came at me, greeting them all one at a time. Apparently having their desires met, the turned around and went back to play on their dirt mound. It was as I walked away that I realized that my hand was a sticky mess- likely from the little one who had been holding a sucker in his mouth. I'm not sure what had drawn them to me in the first place, maybe they really wanted something, or maybe they were simply drawn to my whiteness. But whatever the reason, they certainly brought a smile to face.

I got to the bus and sat down next to a girl, fixing my headscarf that was sliding off. The girl glanced at me and looked out the window. Then, to my shock, she turned to me and said something to me in Arabic. Caught completely off guard that she was saying something to me, I said, "Hm?" She repeated herself, and I agreed with what she said about the weather. We then proceeded to converse in Arabic, which was delightful. Most people on the busses do one of two things, ignore me, or speak to me English (which is sometimes really hard to understand).  It's not often that someone tries to converse with me in Arabic if I don't speak first, but this girl was willing to try, even when I didn't understand her at first! We had a nice conversation and exchanged names and phone numbers, as is customary.

It's the moments like these that make me love life here. Both these girls showed me that it's worth the risk of being rejected to try and make a new friend and that you can make someone's day by doing so, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to learn that!