tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69021023520615112062024-03-14T05:45:45.002+00:00York to YorkI'm a Young Adults in Global Mission Volunteer serving a year in the United Kingdom! Thanks for following my journey! Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-46053110489821637152018-08-15T13:40:00.000+01:002018-08-15T13:40:18.347+01:00Home<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #28628f; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;">
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“There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same place.”</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.5em;"><span style="line-height: 1.5em;"><i style="line-height: 1.5em;"></i><i style="line-height: 1.5em;"></i><i style="line-height: 1.5em;"></i></span>-- G. K. Chesterton, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://el2.convertkit-mail2.com/c/5qu3x2e8xt7h0ee96/e5uph7/aHR0cDovL2hhcHBpbmVzcy1wcm9qZWN0LnVzMS5saXN0LW1hbmFnZTIuY29tL3RyYWNrL2NsaWNrP3U9YjRiYjZmNTYyMDBmZTRmZTkzZjU4MGJmMyZpZD02NDZkMDk2NTc4JmU9YWZkY2RiZWZmYQ%3D%3D&source=gmail&ust=1525783132717000&usg=AFQjCNHWtex_GFBjdDxPjRODB3HDKMsPmw" href="https://el2.convertkit-mail2.com/c/5qu3x2e8xt7h0ee96/e5uph7/aHR0cDovL2hhcHBpbmVzcy1wcm9qZWN0LnVzMS5saXN0LW1hbmFnZTIuY29tL3RyYWNrL2NsaWNrP3U9YjRiYjZmNTYyMDBmZTRmZTkzZjU4MGJmMyZpZD02NDZkMDk2NTc4JmU9YWZkY2RiZWZmYQ==" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted rgb(40, 98, 143); color: #28628f; line-height: 1.5em;" target="_blank">The Everlasting Man</a></span></div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-24887441418697248152018-08-03T08:30:00.000+01:002018-08-03T08:30:00.704+01:00The Year in York: A Bespoke YAGM YearAs you're reading this, I am now a fully fledged YAGM alumna. WHOA! That feels amazing to say and mind-boggling to even start thinking about.<br />
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I am so, so lucky to have done this program. It has been an incredible - and incredibly difficult - year. <a href="https://www.elca.org/Our-Work/Global-Church/Global-Mission/Young-Adults-in-Global-Mission">Young Adults in Global Mission</a> and <a href="https://www.timeforgod.org/">Time for God</a> are the two programs that have financially, spiritually, and logistically supported my time in York. Their ministry is to support people serving all over the world; they do this generosity, compassion, kindness, thoroughness, and attention for each and every person in their care.<br />
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Both programs helped me to find the opportunity to live abroad almost a year ago exactly - much later than almost everyone else preparing to depart on August 15th.<br />
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Quick back-story: I was medically non-cleared from Peace Corps Nicaragua only eight weeks before I was supposed to leave. But with the assistance of YAGM and TfG, I waded through the placement application, visa, and placement processes in less than two months and then suddenly I was at Orientation in Chicago, about to leave for a year in England through the ELCA.<br />
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<i>My YAGM cohort back in Chicago</i></div>
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I <i>felt </i>and<i> knew </i>this was what I was supposed to be doing, far more than I ever had with the Peace Corps. And in the end, I was right about that inner nudge to come to the UK, weird as it sounded on the surface.<br />
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<i>Time for God prep conference back in September</i></div>
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I have loved doing a faith-based service year and it was perfect for me. I am full of immense gratitude.<br />
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The massive effort that the staff of YAGM and TfG have put in have enabled me to have some life-changing experiences, and I am so grateful to them. (I am a hardcore fan of YAGM and TfG - if you or anyone in your life is interested in one of these programs, I am happy to talk about them with you!)<br />
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Some of the experiences that YAGM/TfG enabled have been chronicled on <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/">this blog</a> - thank you for following along and reading my long-winded posts!<br />
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<i>Walking along the River Ouse</i></div>
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A theme which spans across this year was meeting new, interesting, and inspiring people. Some of the most meaningful relationships I've developed this year are with my friends in my <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/01/does-it-matter.html">YAGM cohort</a>, and this was evident at our last retreat together.<br />
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They are one of the reasons I feel this year has been so right for me.<br />
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<i>Outside Alnwick Castle</i></div>
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At the end of our retreat spent some unofficial time up in Edinburgh exploring the city and staying in a hostel.<br />
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Before that, though, we spent a few days up on the Northumberland coast (in northeast England) in a seaside village called Seahouses with the Time for God program staff. On our first night we took a fabulous boat ride out to the Farne Islands to see puffins and seals!<br />
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<i>Puffins</i></div>
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Side note about this boat ride: Everyone goes on and on about the puffins, which are famous, but my favorites were the seals. There were hundreds of them all lounging about on these tiny rocky islands where they live, and when the boat drove by they looked up bemusedly at us with warm, melty eyes and solemn little faces.<br />
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When the boat got even closer, some would get anxious and clumsily plosh their way over the rocks into the water. A few seconds later, a small sleek head would pop up out of the water to continue checking us out. It was magical.<br />
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Ok, back to the point: my YAGM cohort. Everyone in my group has had a different experience this year. Some people fell head-over-heels in love with England or the city they lived in. A few people were so happy to be working at their placement sites. Others really connected with their host families. We were all grateful to have each other, and the YAGM and TfG staff who really supported us.<br />
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<i>Matt, our fearless leader.</i></div>
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Our (fantastic) country coordinator, Matt, led us in a few reflective exercises at our retreat, and something I noticed is that each person has some good and some bad in their year.<br />
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British people use the word "bespoke" a lot. It means <i>made to order</i>. This word applies so well to our collective YAGM years as a group, because while we had all had challenges, each of us also has had one or more Bright Spots. To me, those Bright Spots are things that makes the year worth doing.<br />
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Many people feel that God/the universe/your personal Higher Power puts things in your path to help you learn and grow, which are necessary and good for us eventually, even if they try us while they're happening. I think He also puts Bright Spots along the way for us - things that make the journeys easier.<br />
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<i>Some of my YAGM Bright Spots on the boat. You can't tell how seasick we all are in this picture...</i></div>
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I've definitely had some less-than-fun parts about this year. As I've confessed previously, there are some significant elements of my placement site that I do not like. The minister of the church where I work was unsupportive, unengaged, and even antagonistic, and I felt all year that the church wasn't entirely sure why they'd gotten a Time for God volunteer in the first place.<br />
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At first I took all this on myself. I felt tremendous guilt over this and not feeling connected to the entirety of my host community. I thought that I was flawed in some way to have not had the "perfect" relationships with people. I'm learning to be a lot more sanguine about this fact. In reality, I did my best. Of course I made mistakes, but I also brought my A-game. I worked hard. And I was kind, compassionate, and professional with everyone. That's all that matters in the end.<br />
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And even better, for each part of my placement site that I did not like, there are a million reasons in my life, both personal and professional, that eclipsed it with being really good. The Bright Spots. There were so many. I know I will remember this crazy year with so much affection and love because of these Bright Spots.<br />
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On the work front, it's things like <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/05/harry-potter-and-year-in-york-making.html">School-Based Mentoring</a>, volunteering at Carecent, and <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/02/crafts-with-cause.html">Crafts with a Cause</a>. It was running the <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/06/days-for-girls.html">Days for Girls workshop</a> and <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/03/fairtrade-fortnight.html">Fairtrade Fortnight.</a> These were times during which I felt that I was actually making the world a better place alongside other talented, passionate people with whom I connected.<br />
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<i>Bloom! Flower Festival in York. Crafts with a Cause helped make recycled flowers for it!</i></div>
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On the fun side, piano lessons, attending Zumba, and going to Friends International were weekly Bright Spots - I am so grateful I discovered these fun activities. Zumba especially was an endorphin life-saver, and I loved my classmates and kind, exuberant teacher.<br />
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Despite the road-blocks to success that were put up by church leadership at St. Columba's, that part of my year was full of eventual triumph and joy. Part of this was building relationships with members of my host community; these friendships are so special to me. Members of the congregation like Derek and Isobel, Jack and Jacky, and Ian all come to mind.<br />
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<i>Enjoying a picnic and meander with D and I in Aysgarth Falls in the Yorkshire Dales. </i></div>
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I've especially enjoyed spending same-age friend time with my dear friend Rachel and my roommate Emily.<br />
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<i>Birthday cupcakes with Rachel.</i></div>
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<i>York City Cruise with Emily and her mom.</i></div>
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And dinners, walks, lunches, day trips, and teas with various other friends!<br />
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<i>Kiplin Hall (the family home of the founder of the state of Maryland!) </i></div>
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<i>with my Carecent friend, Angela!</i></div>
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<i>A lovely dinner in the countryside with David and Mandy</i></div>
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<i>Exploring Sheffield with Grace!</i></div>
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<i>Watching the World Cup Semi-finals with Jack and Jacky</i></div>
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Another Bright Spot is the city of York itself. I feel like a magical affinity for this wonderful place. Wandering the cobbled medieval streets, walks along the River, sitting in York Minster, bumming around the York Explore Library, and touring museums, parks, and gardens has been a way of coping with a job I don't like and the non-existent work/life separation.<br />
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It's truly saved me to just get out of the house and go! I know I will miss this city immensely in the future. I can't wait to visit again.<br />
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One very important Bright Spot is all of you - my friends and family and church family - who have supported me so much. I hope that I can be as loving to all of you as you have been to me this year. Phone calls, letters, postcards, Whatsapp messages, emails, prayers, and Facebook messages - thank you for reaching out and thanks for being a part of my life even when I'm far away. I am so grateful. <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-tribe-visits-part-1.html">(And especially thanks to those of you who could visit!)</a><br />
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One of my other favorite Bright Spots was, as mentioned, my YAGM cohort. I especially relished hosting Molly for a visit in early May. We went to Scarborough and toured York. And I loved getting to visit her, along with Grace, in Didcot in June.<br />
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Both of these trips were exceedingly special to me. Finding people you click with is rare, but my YAGM friends make me laugh and think, help me cope and survive, and keep me grounded and sane.<br />
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Ok, one final Bright Spot: All year I've been like, EW BRITISH PEANUT BUTTER SUCKS. And for the most part it really does. Why does it need to have sugar and palm oil and maltodextrin sucralose methamphetamine? Not sure. It's extremely frustrating. Peanut butter is a certifiable addiction for me and I eat it at least once a day, so this was a really sad thing.<br />
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<i>Tears when we YAGMs said goodbye at our hostel in Edinburgh.</i></div>
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SO I finalllyyyyyy found a type of peanut butter I like, a brand called "Nowt But Nuts" from Yorkshire. (This is a cute play on the Yorkshire word "nowt" which means "nothing".) When I tasted the delicious nut butter...I just knew. I had finally found peanut butter glory. And that meant it was time to go home.<br />
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Back to the idea of "bespoke", one of the many fun <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/04/british-isms.html">British-isms</a> I adopted this year. The thing about a bespoke YAGM year is that it doesn't mean it's perfect in every way. It means that it's hard in the ways that God knows you can be challenged, and nurturing in the ways that God knows you need. It is about taking the seasons, proverbially and literally (especially here in England), as they come.<br />
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For me, the difficult bits have actually made a lot of sense; they were, in retrospect, what I need to learn. The Bright Spots, too, were exactly what I needed to make it through. Day trips with friends, BBC on Derek and Isobel's couch, long walks through the city, Skyping with my YAGM friends and my Baltimore people - God provided pick-me-ups when I needed them.<br />
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This year has made me even more grateful for my life. For <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/04/tevas-trump-and-typecasting.html">my home in the USA</a> though I have mixed feelings of gratitude, love, shame, and despair about it right now. (<a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/04/today-i-am-free.html">At least it's not as cold as England</a>.) For my creative, loving, non-judgmental family/extended family. For my interesting, passionate, and caring friends. For my thoughtful, open-minded church, <a href="http://www.ascensiontowson.org/">Ascension Lutheran</a>, and my second family there. Knowing I am surrounded by such a fabulous group of people is perennially one of my Bright Spots.<br />
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<i>YAY for wonderful people! (Being weird in Edinburgh.)</i></div>
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What a joy it was to be able to add to that group this year with my YAGM cohort and other new friends here in England.<br />
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What a privilege to have experienced life abroad in England, of all places - a lifelong dream. What a blessing to be able to serve and change and grow during this wild and wonderful year.<br />
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There is some sadness mixed up with that joy, and some frustrations with the triumphs. But that is exactly right. It is as it should be. The good and the bad make up the whole. I cannot and would not change anything about this year, this bespoke YAGM year.<br />
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-89586063412370803522018-07-26T12:29:00.000+01:002018-07-26T12:29:06.517+01:00Thoughts on Leaving the Small IslandI'm re-reading <i>Notes from a Small Island</i>, by Bill Bryson. If you want to belly laugh, or have any interest at all in England, this book should top your reading list. I've been snorting and chuckling loudly on the rocking chair in my living room all evening.<br />
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The first time I read this book eleven months ago, I was chuckling much the same, but back then it was on the couch at Derek and Isobel's house, where I stayed for a week when I first arrived. The book filled me with wonder and excitement - already, some of the things Bryson writes about the British were resonating and I couldn't wait to see what else would in the months to come. I decided to re-read it at the end of the year, in a sort of parody of what Bryson himself does.<br />
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If you're not familiar with the premise of the book, Bryson sets out to recreate his own entry into Britain at the age of 22 (via a ferry from Calais to Dover) some twenty years later, and subsequently travels all across the United Kingdom by public transit, making wry and witty observations about this small island. In short, Bill Bryson makes a pilgrimage of his own design.<br />
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This very theme of pilgrimage returned to me again some eight months after my initial reading. I was at the York Minster back in the springtime, and discovered in the Undercroft Museum that there is an exhibit about pilgrimages. The theme has lingered in my mind ever since.<br />
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Now as I reread Bryson's book, the idea of pilgrimage remains just as present. My reading this time around is filled with both amusement and nostalgia. Reading this book reminds me of the self who lived before this year happened, who hadn't yet been changed by being a whole year away from home. I was at the start of my own pilgrimage. It reminds me of those first baby steps into the great adventure that has been my time here in Engand. It reminds me of the warmth of a summer of much change coming to a close, of the comfort of being on Derek and Isobel's couch, of blackberries and getting lost and cat trails and new smells.<br />
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Things I didn't catch last time now have me in stitches. And Bryson mentions things like The Big Issue, Skipton, the Settle-to-Carlisle line, navigating the London tube, the Malham wave, and countless other cultural linchpins that I now recognize from spending almost a year here.<br />
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One passage describes the exchange that Bill Bryson has with his cab driver taking him to his hotel in London. The cab driver can't just listen to Bryson tell him where it is; he has to jump in and guess where the hotel is and upon getting it wrong three times and finally being corrected, acting like he knew where it was all along and was helping Bryson. This time around, reading that passage, I was simultaneously laughing and cringing because I knew that feeling.<br />
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I also love the way he describes his affection for the country. He mentions how it is possible to find good humor and high culture all across Britain; as a country, they don't seem to need extravagance to enjoy an activity immensely. Cream teas, the BBC, going walking, and "days out" at National Trust properties are simple and utterly lovely staples of British life. Bryson sums it up well: "What a wondrous place this was - crazy as fuck, of course, but adorable to the tiniest degree."<br />
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That is precisely how I feel; thank goodness for a writer who shares (and ably puts into words) my own astonishment at the idiosyncracies of a people who, among many other oddities, truly believe that a cup of tea will solve every ill. He shares my disdain for British seaside resort towns and my love of the Yorkshire Dales. He plunders through forgotten corners of England, Scotland, and Wales to hilariously capture the essence of an American living on this tiny island. <br />
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Like Bryson, I love this country. Living in Britain, and doing service abroad, has felt incredibly satisfying this year in the broadest sense. Both have been two long-held goals of mine. If life were a to-do list, this would be a massive accomplishment - to have done both in my 25th year! Especially because I never in a million years thought that they could be combined.<br />
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But I don't like to get life done like that. I find to-do lists extremely helpful, but I've learned about myself is that sometimes, to-do lists just don't work. They seep the pleasure out of it all. To-do lists simply are not part of my pilgrimage.<br />
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All the same, here I am at the resolution of a year which has fulfilled two of my long-held goals. To say I am grateful just does not cut it. There is something exhilarating and divine about having achieved two dreams in one fell unplanned, flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, thought-I-was-going-be-doing-the-Peace-Corps-in-Nicaragua-and-oops-here-I-am-in-England-for-a-year swoop. I had set both of these tasks for myself to achieve one far day down the line and the resolution of each so suddenly far exceeded my expectations. It wasn't my doing, but I am the humble, grateful recipient of this unplanned pilgrimage.<br />
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How was I to know that I would come to meet and befriend some of the dearest people who changed my perspective on the world? How was I to know how much joy I could get from hours spent only in the company of myself and my journal in small coffee shops across Yorkshire, after train rides watching the countryside flash by? How was I to know how desperately lonely I would be and how much I would miss my loved ones? How was I to know that I would discover in myself such resilience and clarity and peace when faced with outer challenges? You cannot know these things when you pilgrimage. They simply happen, unplanned and unwritten.<br />
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I imagine that for years to come - perhaps until I can next visit or live in England - reading <i>Notes From a Small Island </i>will be colored with sadness along with the joy. England has been the setting for an immense amount of personal growth, and I feel like my spiritual and emotional selves have been turned inside out, wiped clean, rearranged, and put back again over the course of eleven months. I feel wholly different. This is what pilgrimage does. And if I'm being honest, as I near the end, it makes me anxious to think about relating to people I love with my new outlook, my changed self. How have I changed? How have they changed? What will it be like to go back to my old home, a new person, to an old home that has also become new in its own ways in my absence?<br />
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Yet it also makes me excited to go back and reacquaint myself with my friends, family, and home. I've missed them so very much and they truly make my life worthwhile. I feel hopeful that they will like this new self, and I will like who they have become while I've been gone.<br />
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To say I'm a mess of emotions is an understatement, like saying the British were disappointed when they lost to Croatia in the FIFA World Cup finals. Yes, they were disappointed but they were also thrilled they'd made it thus far, exhilarated as a nation to accomplish something so huge, and devastated that they didn't "Bring It Home!" (aka the World Cup). I'm anxious, excited, longing, yearning, sad, hesitant, and thrilled to be going back home.<br />
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<i>If</i> life were a to-do list, I wouldn't be able to check those two boxes, the volunteer-abroad box and the live-in-England box. I'm ready to be home, but that doesn't mean I still don't have the itch to do more service abroad. It also doesn't mean that I'm quite ready to let go of my lifelong dream to live in England. After all, there are countless other cities and towns to experience. I would love to one day come back to England for an extended period. Then again, maybe neither of these things will ever happen again - I just don't know, and that's OK.<br />
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So if I had a check-list with these two items on it, I would have to leave two big fat blanks. I don't think I'm quite ready to say I'm done with either box. Fortunately, life isn't a checklist, it's a pilgrimage. It is unwritten, unplanned, and beautifully unexpected. Who knows what wonderful adventures - at home and abroad - are yet to come?<br />
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I pray for you to have the same sense of hopeful wonder as you step along whatever pilgrimage you are on. Whether you stay in one geographic place or move all over the world, if you like to plan or leave it up to the wind to carry you, if you are crossing the terrain of your own heart and soul or the surface of many continents, may your heart and your hands be open.<br />
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I will leave you with Bill Bryson's wonderful closing paragraph in <i>Notes from a Small Island</i>. It sums up the strange pull I feel to this wacky, lovely, beautiful little country. Reading these words over and over again, as I have, never fails to fill me with the frisson of pure joy I get when I find words that are a perfect fit for my feelings.<br />
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<b>"All of this came to me in the space of a lingering moment. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I like it here. I like it more than I can tell you. And then I turned from the gate and got in the car and knew without doubt that I would be back." </b></div>
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<b>Bill Bryson, <i>Notes from a Small Island</i></b></div>
<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-62065000967062739332018-07-21T00:23:00.000+01:002018-07-21T00:23:00.093+01:00The Best for Almost Last: CarecentI guess I'm sort of saving the best for last, because I am finally writing about my time at Carecent. This continues to be one of my favorite elements of my year here in York. Every Monday since October I serve breakfast, along with five other volunteers, at a free cafe. It is based out of Central Methodist Church which is in the city centre of York. Our clientele is largely homeless people - street sleepers or those living in hostels - or those who are vulnerable in some way (mental health, physical health, lonely, isolated, etc). All are welcome.<br />
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Carecent was a God-nudge. After about two months in York, I had started to realize I wasn't going to get much support from anyone about what I was to do on a day-to-day basis. Fantastic, if you're fine with a year of binge-watching The Great British Bake-Off and long ambling walks around the city. Those things appeal to me, but not for forty hours a week. I wanted to do a year abroad to help serve people and make the world a better place, not to watch TV. (Maybe to watch a little more TV than I had been watching previously, though.)<br />
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So I was feeling frustrated and annoyed that my questions and interest in supporting the church community were being met with lots of "nos" and "laters". There seemed to be no plan in place for this random American Time for God volunteer and the more I tried to help out, the more annoyed church members seemed to get at me.<br />
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Not much has changed, frankly, some ten months later, but I've learned a lot along the way, the main things being to know whom to ask when I want a yes, and when to simply go ahead and do things without permission. (Oh and how not to CARE.)<br />
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Anyway, I don't like to sit around too much, so I took matters into my own hands. I was messing around online looking at different organizations in York to volunteer at and looked up Carecent, which I'd heard a few things about. I checked the clock - it was closing in just half an hour! I raced over to St. Saviourgate and in my haste to introduce myself to someone in charge and inquire about opportunities to help out, I accidentally interrupted a conversation between Nicky and the Lord Mayor. (No social skills. Just none.)<br />
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Thank God Nicky didn't think I was super annoying (or maybe she did, and she's pretended really well ever since then because she's very kind to me). It was providence, she explained, because one of their Monday team had just decided to leave for health reasons. I was requested to come the following week at 7.45 am to start learning the ropes. (Funny story - I've mentioned how small York is - the man who left for health reasons happens to be the husband of Issy, who ran the Days for Girls workshop at St. Columba's, and it was during this time that I first met Issy and heard about DfG.)<br />
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Part of the reason I was excited about Carecent was that I had recently started to notice the immense issue of homelessness and rough sleeping in York. One man, Anthony, whom I befriended, had made his home not far from my house. It broke my heart to pass by him each night, the evenings getting progressively darker and colder. I wanted to do <i>something sustainable </i>to help people like Anthony and the other street-sleepers I was meeting on my daily walks.<br />
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So it was the following Monday that I was formally introduced to the five women who have made such a big impact on my year. Angela, Uschi, Gill, Katherine, and Doreen are my fellow Mondayers. I can't say enough great things about them - generous, kind, thoughtful, and interesting women. They've all had full lives and jobs and still make time to serve breakfast. Getting to know Nicky, the project manager who fortunately doesn't think I'm crazy with no social skills, has also been wonderful.<br />
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St. Columba's has been a challenging church for me. Perhaps other volunteers would settle in well, but I never felt like things entirely meshed for me there. I did my job, I made some friends, but when it came to feeling like I was truly serving the community alongside the fellowship, it didn't feel like a natural connection.<br />
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But I feel this at Carecent. Carecent has been my comfort place, my home-base, and the place where I feel that I am truly serving and growing as part of a community.<br />
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Every week, the volunteers show how dedicated they are to helping the clients who walk through our doors. I learned from how the women had ongoing relationships with our guests and asked after their jobs, health, relationships, and well-being. I modeled my own behavior on theirs. I saw how they treated each person with dignity and kindness, even when that person might be difficult or ornery back at them.<br />
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Carecent has been my first direct experience working with the homeless population. While I gained some knowledge of this at Paul's Place, Carecent has truly taught me much more about this. Some of my favorite relationships are the jokey ones. One man always asks (in an obnoxiously American accent) how "Baltimore" (meaning me) is doing. Another man, who has severe mental health issues, still remembers that I have a boyfriend and occasionally asks me how he's doing.<br />
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In return, I try to remember details about their lives and I always try to spend part of each morning, when we're not busy at the counter, just chatting and catching up with people. When I'm behind the counter, I'm helping make breakfasts or clean. My fave thing to make is a Full English breakfast - which is really not, because it would traditionally have eggs and bacon and sausage and stuff, and ours has spam and corned beef and hot dogs.<br />
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I tend to see lots of our clients out and about, too, and it deepens the meaning of our work at Carecent. One of our guests has a permanently broken ankle. He had a wheelchair for a while but he seems not to want to more help, and he just uses crutches now. He can be sometimes rude to some of our staff (including me), but watching him walk along on his jagged, broken foot, it's not hard to see why. I'm in a bad mood when I'm hungry, much less when my ankle has been broken for literally months without proper care and rest. I ran into him one day on a walk, over by Museum Gardens, and helped him carry his heavy backpack to a bench where we sat and chatted for a while. It was humanizing for both of us.<br />
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A few other guests have been involved at Crafts with a Cause, and I've invited others to pop into St. Columba's if they like. Because I interact with our guests and my fellow volunteers outside Carecent sometimes, it feels like an undercurrent of my year, a comforting community. As I was walking to meet my roommate at Pride, I ran into yet another guest and we talked for an hour as we meandered towards the festival.<br />
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I had seen her just two days prior when I'd been at Carecent on a Thursday to help set up our new space, and it meant that she began to trust me and we opened up to each other. Presence is important - Nicky has really shown me this, as she is so present and supportive in all of our guests' and volunteers' lives. I see a number of our guests at the library regularly (that's where I'm writing this right now!) and I always make a point to say hi.<br />
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Working with the homeless population is also hard. Sometimes it's in the obvious ways. Some of our guests shoot up in the bathroom. Sometimes there are fights. I got screamed at by one of our guests for refusing to give him more toiletries than were his share during the Winter Support Bags program that I ran through St. Columba's. The entire room turned to watch the spectacle, so you can imagine I really enjoyed that.<br />
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I also have some fabulously funny stories from working at Carecent. My jaw dropped two weeks ago when I witnessed Man Number 1 accidentally nudge Man Number 2 without noticing he had done it. Man Number 2 was holding a cereal bowl, and a small bit of his milk slopped over the side and onto the floor. Man Number 2 yelled incoherently in fury at this perceived slight and threw the entire cereal bowl into the back of Man Number 1's head. As Man Number 1 turned around in surprise, Man Number 2 began yelling and eventually grabbed his arm and tried to start a fight. After the volunteers had calmed things down, Man Number 2 went outside (the police were called) and Man Number 1 continued dreamily on his way, not seeming particularly upset that he had milk all over his back and cereal dripping from his hair.<br />
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I've grown a lot from the way I used to feel personally disappointed by the behavior of guests I've developed relationships with. For instance, one man who used to attend Crafts with a Cause became enraged that another member had shared something about her personal crafting activities - she wanted the group to join in. A harmless presentation turned into his excuse for no longer coming to the group, even though he'd been a regular for months.<br />
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This kind of experience has taught me so much. It's taught me NOT to get personally disappointed by peoples' behavior. The less personally disappointed I get, and the more I take things lightly, the better it is. It doesn't mean I'm not happy to hear successes. A couple who come sometimes have told me all about their struggles with drugs and how they're working hard to be clean now and getting jobs - I am genuinely thrilled for them.<br />
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Even though I don't want to take things personally, I still care a lot. It's just the difference between serving/helping for my ego - because it makes me feel good about MYSELF - and serving/helping because it's the right thing to do. Part of it "being the right thing to do" is my faith and also my sense of social/personal justice. Everyone <i>deserves</i> care. This is why Carecent means so much to me. When I'm having a bad day, I can look at my volunteers and see their example. They show love to people who otherwise feel invisible and uncared for.<br />
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They show that same love to me. When I was facing my first Christmas alone, my Carecent family got me a Christmas Survival Bag. It was genuinely one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. They're always available when I'm having a rough time and after I showed up and burst into tears about how chronically ill I'd been all year, they took me to coffee after volunteering. Angela and her husband took me on a fantastic daytrip to Kiplin Hall (home of the founder of the state of Maryland!).<br />
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Carecent has truly been a host community for me, and it has taught me so much. Recently, during a Tuesday coffee morning, the worship leader asked us to think of someone who had deeply influenced me. This list is honestly endless for me - how blessed I am that this is true - but the first people who popped into my head was my Carecent family. Even though it's taken me all year to write about it, I think that's partially because it's a piece of my year that is so deeply special to me and I wasn't ready to process it yet. I will miss Carecent - the people, the tasks - the most out of all my various activities here. It was just as much a home for me as it is for the people we're meant to be serving. How lucky I am.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-42015221068339105722018-07-12T16:38:00.000+01:002018-07-12T16:38:13.809+01:00Lessons Learned from Friends InternationalFriends International is a conversation and activities group for international students and young people. There are chapters across England - you can read about it <a href="https://friendsinternational.uk/">here</a>. I joined back in September. The York group meets Mondays in the Spurriergate Center (a local church-turned-community-center) that is conveniently ten minutes from my house. The first half hour is tea and chatting, and then there's a presentation/activities and discussion. It's loose, casual, and designed to be friendly to be those who are non-English speakers.<br />
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The volunteers (mostly older folks) engage us in light activities relating to a weekly theme. There was an Easter Egg decorating week. A few weeks ago was the Royal Wedding. We celebrated Christmas activities. We did a Bonfire Night back in November. </div>
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I used to say Friends was an occasional activity, but I realized to my surprise this week that I've been going on and off since September. Here and there I had a few pauses, but after watching the end-of-year slideshow, I realized I'd attended many of the weeks pictured. I also realized that I myself have not taken many pictures, hence the lack of photos in this post.<br />
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We get free tea. I like this. (I always get redbush, also known as rooibos.) But that's not the only reason I go. I actually like being a part of it, and I've learned a lot from Mondays at Friends Intl. </div>
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Read on. I swear, that was just the boring intro and it gets better.<br />
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<b>Sometimes you need to socialize even when you hate it: </b>This year, I've learned over and over again that it is far better to force myself to socialize than to sit alone in my room. As a natural introvert, I needed an outlet that was not my job in which I could *attempt* to make friends.<br />
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It's not always easy to get myself geared up to go. Like the introvert in me is just not a fan of it. Throughout the year, I've had a Monday routine. I wake up early for Carecent. I come home. I start on other work. I usually remember it's Friends International Night throughout the afternoon. I think, <i>I REALLY DON'T WANT TO GO.</i> I grumble to myself about it all day, and think, <i>why would I go to this weird little Christian group? I def have enough church time as it is. I'm not a non-native English speaker so it's not really for me. [substitute other excuses here].</i><br />
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I should add I don't feel this way about most things, just some things. I don't know why, and I won't bore you with psychoanalyzing myself on this front.<br />
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Anyway, it hits 6.30 pm and I start to think, <i>I really need to have more friends.</i> It hits 7 pm, and I think, <i>I could still make it. </i>7.10 pm rolls around and I scarf down dinner, throw on a coat, and roll out the door.<i> </i>I always come home glad that I went. </div>
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<b>Temporary friends are better than no friends:</b> In the vein of wanting to be more social, I've adopted a new motto with gusto this last month, thanks to a helpful point from Shantonu: <b>temporary friends are better than none.</b> This applies to lots of other activities and situations, but Friends International is a prime example. I highly doubt I'll stay in touch with the vast majority of people from the group, but that's OK. It gets me out of the house/socializing on a Monday night.<br />
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While they might not be as long-term as relationships back home, I do have ongoing friendships with some fellow participants too, particularly some of the volunteers. Derrick and I bonded over a mutual interesting in fairtrade; Stuart is a garulous retired pastor who likes to talk to me about Lutheranism; and David and Mandy (<a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2017/12/yuletide-in-york.html">I've mentioned them previously</a>) have hosted Chantal and me for lunch and <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2017/11/thanks-giving.html">activities.</a></div>
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<b>My values don't have to match up with other peoples' exactly, and that's OK: </b>Friends Intl is a super Christian group, and completely honestly, I'm aware that some of their goal is to secretly evangelize to heathens from other countries (I'm being a little sarcastic here, don't worry). At first the proselytizing potential bothered me. I really don't like evangelism and I really really don't like the assumption that Christianity is "the way" for everyone.<br />
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But the thing is, people there are really kind and easy to talk to. And in a year where I've felt particularly isolated, lonely, and socially driftless, I am extraordinarily appreciative of a group who opens their doors every single week for me to come and just <i>be</i>. And, luckily, I actually have barely seen evangelizing; the group just has a very Christian flavor to it. So all that helps.<br />
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And anyway, I <i>know</i> this fact about them. I'm not dumb enough to let it be a surprise, and therefore I can't let it upset me if I choose to attend.<br />
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<b>York is a small place, and Christian York even more so: </b>We had our last Friends International meeting this Monday. Again, I surprised myself by being kind of nostalgic about this. We carpooled out to a local village for dinner at the home of two of the volunteers, and took a mini-tour to learn about the history of the area.<br />
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After the dinner, I realized how overlapping Friends Intl is with so many things in my life here, even though I've only lived in York for ten months so far. David (as in David and Mandy) is also the accountant for <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2017/12/mission-partners-sunday.html">The Island</a>, where I volunteer. Helen, who runs Friends International, is the wife of my landlord, and they both attend the church next door to where I live. Derrick is a member of the Fairtrade Forum, a group I connected with during <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/03/fairtrade-fortnight.html">Fairtrade Fortnight</a>; the leader of this group also happens to be a woman I've emailed and chatted with all year long because she is <i>also</i> the leader of the choir that practices at St. Columba's on Wednesday nights.<br />
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I met my friend Chantal, an au pair in York, thanks to Friends International. Recently, she went back to Germany. I can't get on board with seemingly the rest of the YAGM universe, who all seem to feel that the year has simply flown by and they're so sad to leave their sites and they're going to miss their jobs/host communities oh so very much.<br />
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Um no, it hasn't. This year has felt extremel<i>y</i> long. Interesting, enjoyable, worthwhile, growth-filled, meaningful, and SUPER FREAKING LONG.<br />
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But as Chantal and I reminisced over our activities together on our final walk through King's Square, where we would always meet up to commence time spent together drinking hot chocolate or sight-seeing, it did indeed feel like the year had gone quickly (that feeling was brief and fleeting, fyi). I just wished we'd had more time to explore and get to know one another, even though we had almost a whole year. Our friendship was a light and joyous piece of my time year and I hope our paths cross again.<br />
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I started out skeptical of Friends Intl; I did not anticipate that I'd still be attending all the way in June. But as with so much this year, I've surprised myself (and sometimes other people have surprised me, too). For Chantal's friendship, for the privilege of meeting people from all over the world who have come to tiny little York, for a calm place to attempt to socialize on a Monday evening, and for free rooibos tea, I'm grateful to have been a part of Friends International. </div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-15562825839943945152018-07-06T22:29:00.000+01:002018-07-06T22:29:02.909+01:00Breaking Bread in Britain, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The best food experiences I have had here in Britain are with others. I've hosted members of the fellowship and friends over to eat at my house on numerous occasions. I think food is a way of showing love and gratitude, so I especially like to host those people who have made my year particularly special - such as my Carecent volunteering friends, my piano teacher and her husband, and my friend Rachel. </div>
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I got to attend a barbecue with my friend Jack, his wife Jacky, and their family. It was such a lovely experience because they made me feel so welcome. Jack is a wine connoisseur, and gave me a Wine Tasting 101 experience. Jack has also generously taken me out to lunch pretty regularly this year - he's one of my closest friends in the fellowship and we have fun chatting.<br />
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I shared the most fun British fancy tea at Betty's with my friend Rachel. Bettty's is a York classic - everyone told me I had to go at least once. I was like NAHHH, because it's crazy expensive for tea and a bunch of scones. But my (wonderful) boyfriend had a little birdy (his lovely cousin) who told him that Betty's was THE York cream tea to have...so for my birthday he gave me two vouchers. And thus I did indeed get to have a proper Betty's experience. Totally worth it - the ambience was delightful, the treats and sandwiches were tasty, and I had about six cups of tea.<br />
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My roommate Emily is a fantastic cook. She loves to try new things and it's inspiring to watch her get creative in the kitchen. We were having people over for lunch so we collaborated on a Indian-inspired meal - I roasted a curried chicken with potatoes, peppers, and sweet potatoes, and she made homemade coconut-stuffed naan. It was fab.<br />
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I made my roommates their first (real) tacos! They were pork carnitas (a life-changing taco for me, because that's the taco I ate the night I went from being a vegetarian to a not-vegetarian) with radishes, arugula, and onion.<br />
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Below are another favorite type of taco - cauliflower! Roasted cauliflower with spices/hot sauce with avocado crema and cabbage in tacos is the besssst.<br />
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Following along that theme, dinner at Rachel's house one night was this yummy Mexican burrito bowl, followed by delicious chocolate lava cake.<br />
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Meals with fellow YAGMs are some of my favorite memories from the year - here we are at one of our dinners when we all got together for New Year's Eve.<br />
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We all agreed this was a top-notch dessert from our March YAGM retreat - waffles and whipped cream.</div>
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Food with visitors tends to be eaten out more, which is so incredibly pleasurable because it means I don't have to wash dishes. (Dishwashers aren't common here like in the States - I will never take mine for granted again!) When my family came we enjoyed a delicious meal at Derek and Isobel's flat!<br />
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Rachel and I had a really fun day out in Thirsk one weekend in late May. For lunch, we each got a classic Yorkshire picnic platter for lunch. Cheese, coleslaw, salad, and bread.<br />
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Each month our church hosts a community lunch. This is me with some delicious apple pie and custard at the first I attended. YUM. It's normal to want pictures with food you like, right?<br />
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One of our community lunches was an American-themed Thanksgiving that I cooked. I prepped all of the food, but luckily on the day of Chantal and our friend Aline also helped me! It was my first experience making a whole turkey. It was terrifying. Thank God for my friend Jack (yes, same as above) who took me grocery shopping for the 25 lb turkey. And thank goodness I realized I had to defrost it prior to cooking it. And thank goodness I borrowed a meat thermometer from Derek and Isobel so I didn't accidentally give 25 people food poisoning. (Although it will be a cool story for the future to say I cooked my first Thanksgiving for people - in Britain.)<br />
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All that to say, I was so glad when it was over. (Everyone really liked the meal, too!)<br />
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Right after the Community Lunch, I hopped on a train to Manchester to share Thanksgiving 2.0 with my YAGM pals! We had such fun cooking and bonding. Those memories - the ones with my fellow YAGMs - are some of the most precious from this year.<br />
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The super yum birthday cake my roommate Emily made me back in September :)<br />
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I help prepare diners (called "tea" here) for the Island's Youth Clubs every Wednesday. One time I attempted to make American pancakes (fluffy, flavorful, delicious) for Pancake Day (aka Shrove Tuesday). They ended up being British pancakes (flat, lifeless crepe-like things topped with weird things like lemon and sugar). But the kids really liked when I made sloppy joes - they'd never had them before! (Literally just crumbled pork sausage cooked with ketchup/barbecue sauce. Very fancy.)<br />
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Of course, I drink a lot of tea here....<br />
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As well as indulging this winter in many delicious cups of cocoa!<br />
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Molly and I shared fab burritos when she came to visit, and had so much fun cooking together.<br />
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And when I visited Grace in February we treated ourselves to Five Guys! (It soothed our inner American.)<br />
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Eating alone is inevitable and common for me, as my roommates have pretty different schedules. As I eat, I often read a book. Yes, I do know there's a lot of literature out there about not reading while you eat, but it's been a pleasurable activity since as early as I could read, so I'm doing it. (One bad habit I actively try to avoid, however, is eating whilst looking at my phone - that's bad! also messy!)<br />
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However, my treat night is on Thursdays, the start of my weekend, when I will often indulge in a weekly Netflix-and-dinner date with myself.<br />
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Sometimes I talk to people on the phone or Skype with them while I eat. This might be gross for them (lol SORRYYYY), but for me it feels like I'm having an actual lunch- or dinner-date. It's not feasible for people who live alone to always be sharing meals, but it is possible to make each mealtime a happy, peaceful experience.<br />
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And this is the key - a joyous mealtime. Because to me, food is about love and sharing. It's about a profound appreciation for the the privilege of eating what we want, when we want it. It's about the tactile sensations, the colors, vibrant flavors. Each meal is a communion, even when we are alone. </div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-72953159646610689192018-07-03T10:00:00.000+01:002018-07-03T10:00:11.365+01:00Breaking Bread in Britain, Part 1The stereotype of British food is that it is not very good. Dry boiled veg as a side to a slab of overcooked meat; this is what some people have told me that they think of as English cuisine. Much like the stereotype that British people are cold and unfeeling, it's not entirely accurate but it's definitely rooted in truth. But food in this country, fortunately, has come on a self-improvement journey that far surpasses that of its citizenry.<br />
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I LOVE to eat and cook good food, and I know a lot of you out there also feel similarly! It's always fun for me to here what people ate and drank when they traveled, so I thought it would be fun to share more about my British food experiences.<br />
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So let's start by looking at some pictures of favorite British meals....<br />
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One British classic is the jacket potato. It's basically a baked potato with all kinds of fillings. You can have a jacket potato with chili con carne, baked beans, tuna and cheese, coronation chicken, and myriad other fillings. Usually there will be coleslaw or a small salad on the side.<br />
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A plate full of Yorkshire delicacies - Wensleydale cheese, bloomer bread (brown), chutney, and coleslaw, and cabbages.<br />
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Sausages and mash (bangers and mash, as you'll see sometimes).<br />
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Cornflake treats (pictured below) and flapjacks are typical English dessert-snacks. It's the same premise. The cereal is mixed together with a bunch of liquified sugar and baked.<br />
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This is a classic British breakfast. So. Much. Meat.<br />
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This is a Scottish-specific classic - haggis, neeps, and tatties! Yes...some people think it's disgusting. But I like things like scrapple, so I don't. I think it's great. It's basically animal innards. Neeps and tatties is a mash of turnips and potato.<br />
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Ok, asian fusion is definitely not classic British...or is it? After they colonized like basically the entire world, Britain "adopted" (read: co-opted for their own financial/cultural benefit) the flavors of countries around the world. Really, just the like the United States has done. Anyway, Wagamama is one of those sinfully amazing places that came out of this. It's like all the asian flavors/food combos under one roof with BOMB.COM food. I'm a lil bit obsessed. I dragged most of my visitors this year to Wags for wagamama ramen (highly recommend), teriyaki donburi, and yasai itame, as well as their amazing juices and FREE green tea.<br />
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The aforementioned food appropriation is actually a thing, by the way. It's something I've started to care more about <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/03/a-detox-story-some-uplifting-things.html">since an experience I had a few months ago</a>, which no doubt only happened because I have too much time on my hands to think/care too much nowadays. But anyway, it led me to do a little reading about the idea of food appropriation and <a href="https://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2017/06/cultural-appropriation-food-justice.html">this article</a> pretty much sums it up way better than I ever could. It basically explores the concept of privilege (monetary, social) in relationship with food.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iXU4gvpqjh0/WxhcNHjVFTI/AAAAAAAAXlI/dVIuNSBDLHkwtKZFwDcWxLxSZVAfbLY4QCEwYBhgL/s1600/20180514_123800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iXU4gvpqjh0/WxhcNHjVFTI/AAAAAAAAXlI/dVIuNSBDLHkwtKZFwDcWxLxSZVAfbLY4QCEwYBhgL/s320/20180514_123800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Kale salad - a very nouveau bourgeois food, if you ask me!</i></div>
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Grocery shopping this year is another area in which I think a lot about food privilege. This was the crux of why I became an AmeriCorps VISTA at Paul's Place last year. The Farmers' Market was started by my supervisor, Charlotte, in response to the fact that Pigtown is a food desert and kids at Paul's Place (which serves the Pigtown area) were experiencing high levels of obesity, high BMI, and other poor health indicators.<br />
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I'm privileged in that there are loads of grocery stores around me, and when I asked around, everyone had their opinions about where I should go. People at my church who apparently had no concept of how little I make told me just to shop at M&S or Sainsbury Local, because they're close to my house. They're also super pricey! Others said go to Aldi, which is a forty-minute walk each way. No, thank you, not carrying groceries back all that way. They must also have thought I was mule.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CniOSea9AMc/WxhbBnSoyII/AAAAAAAAXkU/QIT1hZDdFrEj567iHQazr8dQPIaZBAWqgCLcBGAs/s1600/20180426_154629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CniOSea9AMc/WxhbBnSoyII/AAAAAAAAXkU/QIT1hZDdFrEj567iHQazr8dQPIaZBAWqgCLcBGAs/s320/20180426_154629.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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While it was a completely privileged version of the problem, I recognized in my experience a small seed of what I had learned through working in food justice/access for the preceding three years.<br />
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Carrying groceries a long way is physically challenging and sometimes actually painful (as I learned when I bought a huge thing of olive oil/tomato sauce/a pineapple all in one shopping trip DON'T DO THAT PLZ) but shopping somewhere close-by is pricey. This is exactly what people who live in <a href="http://americannutritionassociation.org/newsletter/usda-defines-food-deserts">food deserts</a> face all the time, and it makes cooking and eating non-processed foods very hard.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mpf43l58C0I/WxhbHX4ieEI/AAAAAAAAXkY/Jtn0jtym57UAfQS2ByjC8q4HQyULDVuvACLcBGAs/s1600/20180426_154636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mpf43l58C0I/WxhbHX4ieEI/AAAAAAAAXkY/Jtn0jtym57UAfQS2ByjC8q4HQyULDVuvACLcBGAs/s320/20180426_154636.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>These are my FAVE type of chips (crisps) found here.</i></div>
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Anyway, to wind up this long-winded story time, I settled on mostly shopping at Morrison's, which is a chain of shops known for having very good prices and isn't terribly far from my house. I mainly get my produce now at the Shambles Market. The Market is one of my favorite things about York. It is year-round, outdoor, and sells fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and other minimally prepared foods.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xXn7-ABWDVM/Wxhb2FlvYmI/AAAAAAAAXkw/LktbuQODjZgG7tusklb9VfCY_dhsoNkzQCLcBGAs/s1600/20170826_153759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xXn7-ABWDVM/Wxhb2FlvYmI/AAAAAAAAXkw/LktbuQODjZgG7tusklb9VfCY_dhsoNkzQCLcBGAs/s320/20170826_153759.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I want a year-round everyday market like this in Baltimore!, is my thought almost every single time I shop there (so like once a week or every ten days or so). But we do have great farmers' markets in Baltimore (see the aforementioned Pigtown Community Farmers Market ;)). Our urban and suburban planning in most of the US, is quite different though; most places aren't designed for a walkable, year-round Market to serve a small geographic area with a high human density.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PUZNnIf_yoE/WxhbRLy51XI/AAAAAAAAXkc/yjwFO61VkoAojhKamVs-ESP03BedTljdACLcBGAs/s1600/20180502_093633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PUZNnIf_yoE/WxhbRLy51XI/AAAAAAAAXkc/yjwFO61VkoAojhKamVs-ESP03BedTljdACLcBGAs/s320/20180502_093633.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Regardless, the beautiful thing about living in another place for a year is the endless possibilities things to take back home and adapt. For me, that includes the insights I've gained about food and food systems.<br />
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So for now, I'll just soak up the quaintness of walking fifteen minutes into the city centre, past medieval houses and over bridges, to buy farm-fresh vegetables. Like so many other things this year, I'm looking on it as a little gift from the universe to have such sweet small everyday experiences like this.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzK_klltuvc/Wxhb3VVNLfI/AAAAAAAAXk0/nTXLmQuQPoEJtZI_ge2WZKY22T7YiCz5gCLcBGAs/s1600/20170826_153756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzK_klltuvc/Wxhb3VVNLfI/AAAAAAAAXk0/nTXLmQuQPoEJtZI_ge2WZKY22T7YiCz5gCLcBGAs/s320/20170826_153756.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-27978619074989366962018-06-26T11:30:00.000+01:002018-06-26T11:30:04.183+01:00Days for Girls I wrote last week about <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-big-issue-north-ive-been-published.html">getting published in The Big Issue</a>. I wrote an article about Days for Girls, which you can read more about it if you want to learn about the program itself! <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1yVHlqHncmMSFZRZThVSzl6cnRHRXFlX3hIWlJHV0U3VHFR/view">Here</a> and <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1yVHlqHncmMbEo4Z3FfdnFoOG1nQVFzbG5aU1ZoRDFaUGRN/view">here</a>.<br />
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Writing the article about Days for Girls was easier than if I had been unfamiliar with the topic entirely. I knew a lot about the program because I was already in the process of helping plan a workshop for the program. I attended a DfG workshop back in March at the York Minster, and approached Beryl, one of the co-leaders, about running a similar day with Crafts with a Cause.<br />
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So we planned one for St. Columba's. I advertised far and wide. It was a big Crafts with a Cause project and it ended up being a success - we had about 25 people (participants and volunteers) at both the morning and afternoon sessions.<br />
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Here are some pictures.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JjI28TNbzdU/WzFgXlPdpHI/AAAAAAAAYQs/FyEhZfPpQRkGbkxlMAJvxLVhlfV3lubuwCLcBGAs/s1600/20180613_094936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JjI28TNbzdU/WzFgXlPdpHI/AAAAAAAAYQs/FyEhZfPpQRkGbkxlMAJvxLVhlfV3lubuwCLcBGAs/s320/20180613_094936.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lots of planning later...it's actually happening! I showed up early to set up, closely followed by DfG leaders with their supplies.</div>
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We set up stations to complete various parts of the kit. In the foreground are the basis for shields.</div>
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Official DfG logo</div>
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Completed liners</div>
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Completed shields</div>
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The busy, buzzing workshop is underway.</div>
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Beryl, one of the Days for Girls co-leaders. She is incredible! I admire her and Issy (below) so much.</div>
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Working hard on liner pieces! (M, the man on the left, is a St. Columba's member who stayed to help ALL DAY. He is a fab person and friend.)</div>
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Issy, one of the Days for Girls co-leaders. She's amazing!</div>
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I set up a stall for Crafts with a Cause items! (We sold three earrings...better than nothing I guess.)</div>
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Lots of people got to know each other or reconnected - reminded me yet again how small/sociable York is!</div>
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Many wonderful helpers and volunteers!</div>
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That's me!</div>
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A CWAC member-DfG participant sewing away!</div>
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Our completed kits! We made six whole kits and a bunch of random parts of other kits. </div>
<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-89260006752699786862018-06-19T09:36:00.002+01:002018-06-19T09:36:47.952+01:00The Big Issue North - I've been published!An article I wrote was published in <a href="https://www.bigissuenorth.com/">The Big Issue North</a>!<br />
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This magazine is a social justice enterprise across England. It is published weekly by professional writers and journalists. Then it is distributed to vendors - places like churches, community centers, etc. These vendors have relationships with sellers. The sellers are people who might be vulnerably housed, homeless, or unemployed and looking to get back on their feet. They buy the magazine at 1.25 pounds off of the vendor and sell it for 2.50 pounds.<br />
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I've been a big fan of the magazine since I discovered its existence here, and have tried to purchase it from people selling it on the street. I learned about it when Carecent (the free breakfast cafe I volunteer at) was relocated to Trinity Methodist back in March temporarily due to construction. Trinity Methodist is a vendor for the magazine.<br />
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Intrigued one Monday morning as I watched Joy (Trinity's Church Secretary) accepting shipments of the magazine, I asked her more about it. Joy was really helpful and put me in touch two of the editors of the Big Issue. I love love love the idea of writing as part of a good cause - whether it's creative writing therapy, slam poetry, motivational speeches, or this, a magazine that empowers people to improve their lives.<br />
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All I wanted originally was simply to know more about The Big Issue, because it was such a fab new concept to add to my growing list of Ways to Write for Good, but the editors asked if I was pitching an article to them.<br />
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This is one of those things I call a God-nudge. For a very long time, I've been saying I would like to try my hand at getting published in an online or print magazine. It was kind of an idle, <i>Oh, that would be cool someday! </i>type notion, but it stemmed from a deeper desire to continue honing on my craft. Here was an opportunity staring me in the face - I couldn't say no!<br />
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What commenced was a whole lot more work than I anticipated. Writing is fun and natural for me, but this was...something else. I pitched an initial concept that was rejected, but then I pitched the idea of writing about Days for Girls. (I'll be writing more about Days for Girls itself soon - I've been very involved in this program!) Then I had to research more about the international organization and our local group, interview the participants, and write the actual piece. </div>
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Luckily, interviewing and research was made much easier for me because I was in the midst of preparing for St. Columba's own Days for Girls workshop along with the two women who run Days for Girls here in York. I went to a bunch of activities with the dual purpose of preparing for our own workshop AND I also got some information for the article. Beryl and Issu wanted to know what was going into the article, so the back-and-forth took a lot more effort than I originally intended. But it was a good learning<br />
experience.<br />
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But now, six weeks after starting the whole process of pitching my first real piece to a real publication, it's gone to press! When the editor told me it was going to be published this week, I knew I wanted to buy like a thousand million copies.<br />
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In the end, I just got three. I went directly over to Trinity Methodist yesterday morning to pick them up, and it so happened that another editor from the mag was there visiting! It was fun to chat with him and some of the sellers.<br />
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It's exciting to see my name in print, I can't deny it. Having a byline feels deeply, happily satisfying. What's even more exciting is to know that the piece is spreading the word about an amazing cause (again, more about <a href="https://www.daysforgirls.org/">Days for Girls</a> soon!).<br />
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You can read the first page <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1yVHlqHncmMSFZRZThVSzl6cnRHRXFlX3hIWlJHV0U3VHFR/view?usp=sharing">here</a> and the second page <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1yVHlqHncmMbEo4Z3FfdnFoOG1nQVFzbG5aU1ZoRDFaUGRN/view?usp=sharing">here.</a> I can't find an online link (yet).<br />
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If you want to learn more about street papers, you can do so <a href="https://insp.ngo/">here</a>. If you, too, have a good idea for a magazine like this, give it a shot! The editors were really encouraging and it was a very good experience.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-37577679964624736722018-06-08T09:30:00.000+01:002018-06-08T09:30:02.246+01:00Words that rest on my heart. I read two quotes recently that resonate deeply with me. Maybe you know what I mean - that moment when you have read something that bypasses the cerebrum and goes straight to your core. Words that elicit an unconscious "Mmmm" of recognition or a slight arrest of your breath. If you have words that do this for you, I would love to know what they are - what words make you hum.<br />
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On the surface, these quotes are pretty different. But to me, how they feel when I say them aloud and let them rest on my heart, it's like looking for the beginning and end of a circle.<br />
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<b>"Be patient and tough. One day this pain will be useful to you." (Ovid) </b><br />
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Patience, toughness. Two words. If I could hold these in my hands, they would be glass orbs. Round, smooth, hefty. Patience and toughness.<br />
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<b>"How often things occur by mere chance which we dared not even hope for." (Terence) </b><br />
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Hope is lighter, a shimmering net between each of us and our own personal long, dark well of sadness.<br />
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Ethereal Hope gives birth to her daughters, solid Patience and weighty Toughness.<br />
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These words that oppose on their face, but are relatives to each other underneath. They make me hum with a recognition flowing from deep inside.<br />
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I learned this year about a crafting group called Peaced Together for women who have experienced trauma, and someone told me recently about one of their activities. The women make a weaving. In addition to choosing pretty colored fabrics, they must pick a piece of cloth that is ugly in order to represent hardships in their lives, and weave it in with all the rest.<br />
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What would the color of your sorrow be?<br />
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I feel when I read certain words what those women must feel when they look at their weaving. This is what I feel: A sense of life as looked at from the highest, most comfortable cloud.<br />
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My body: Arms that embrace, toes that squeeze the earth, wings to fly. My soul: Patience and toughness, weights to ground me. Hope, to help me rise up.<br />
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From this vantage, I see both beautiful ugliness and ugly beauty. Pain and patience, toughness and hope. I see an infinitesimal glimpse of what God must see in all of us to love us so much.<br />
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The hardship intertwined with happiness. The joy with sorrow.<br />
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Not at peace. At peace.<br />
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All of it, woven in different colors, different cloth. All of it, the same tapestry.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-92144470335755312372018-06-03T15:44:00.000+01:002018-06-03T15:44:06.543+01:00The Purple Man<div style="text-align: left;">
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The Purple Man is a big deal in York. Everyone knows The Purple Man. As I passed him the other day on the street, I said, "I'm writing about you!"</div>
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He looked very intrigued (I didn't know he allowed himself to talk, I'd always thought he was a mime) and said "Oh? Why?" </div>
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I said, "Well I'm writing about York's street buskers." (It's for another writing project I'm doing, not this blog...although now I am writing about him on this blog.) </div>
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And he said, "Well I'll give you an interview."</div>
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He handed me his purple paintbrush and I held it up like a microphone. He told me that he started doing what he does 11 years ago when he made friends with a Syrian refugee whose entire family was killed in a bombing. He wanted to collect money for the orphans left by the carnage to have toys. So each year, he takes the money he collects and buys toys. Then he and his friend (who apparently also dresses up in purple and collects money elsewhere - who knew) actually go to the Syrian border and deliver the toys. </div>
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What an amazing backstory to this York staple! </div>
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Honestly, I was feeling a little flustered so I didn't ask him all the other questions that popped into my head as soon as I started walking away. Why did you decide to go with purple? Why this street always? Do you get bored? Cold? Hungry? When do you pee? How much money have you raised? Deeper ones as well - what do you see in Syria? What do you think of the current conflict? How do you get the toys to the kids now? </div>
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So many questions. I'll need to interview him again, if he lets me. </div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-43945342665112198722018-05-25T17:26:00.000+01:002018-05-25T17:26:06.168+01:00Harry Potter and the Year in York: Making Everyday Magic (Newsletter #5)In the Harry Potter series, we read a lot about Harry's big ticket items - Quidditch matches, showdowns with Lord Voldie, and common room parties feature prominently. I'm not that cool. If I were at Hogwarts, I wouldn't be Harry, I'd be Luna Lovegood, sort of in the background just chilling with the Blibbering Humdingers, getting my schoolwork done, and wandering about exploring the castle.<br />
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Accordingly, my favorite parts of the book are when we learn about everyday life at Hogwarts; classes, mealtimes, and hanging out in the common room are all far more intriguing to me than jumping in the lake at a Triwizard Tournament. Probably this is boring for most people. Like, the books were written about Harry and not Luna for a reason.<br />
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But something Krissy and I have been talking about has been kicking around in my brain lately. The idea that everyday life, every day adventures - those are the <i>most</i> interesting. And that perhaps all of us should challenge ourselves to dig in and live that daily life a little bit deeper.<br />
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So, while I can't promise it'll be as fun as reading about breaking-and-entering into the Ministry of Magic, I figured I'd use this newsletter to try to conjure up an understand of everyday happenings here in York this year.<br />
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<b>Sundays at St. Columba's:</b> Sundays are the start to my workweek. I usually get into church around 9 am, either because I'm on the rota to steward or make coffee or to set up the Fairtrade stall that I run monthly. If nothing else, I usually sneak in a few minutes of piano practice then too.<br />
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The worship starts at 10.15 am and lasts about an hour. Many services are led by members of the congregation and each worship has a pretty different pattern. I usually really enjoy the hour after the service because it's everyone in the congregation hanging out drinking coffee. It's the only time I actually get to see most of the fellowship together. Depending on who leads coffee (and thus brings supplies), the cookies can be a big highlight too.<br />
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<b>Visiting with Congregants:</b> Sometime during each week, I aim to visit to a member of our fellowship who is homebound or ill. One of the people I've gotten to know most is an elderly woman named Mary. We had a rocky start to our relationship. She didn't offer me anything but water over the course of my two-hour visit (which indicates either a serious breach of British social etiquette or a deliberate and pointed snub), and seemed slightly suspicious of my presence.<br />
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Months later, and things have drastically improved. I really look forward to seeing Mary; last week, she offered me tea and biscuits straight away, and she showed me two photo albums of the dozens of foster children she cared for along with four of her own. I see visits to congregants as one of the purest and most essential forms of accompaniment.<br />
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<b>Molly Visits!:</b> One of my dear YAGM friends, Molly, came to visit me in early May. We spent a fantastic three days exploring, touring, talking, and eating delicious food. We visited Scarborough and Malton for a day too! After she left, I felt very lonely. After feeling like my truest authentic self for three short days with such a dear friend, returning to my normal routine was a little hard.<br />
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But the truth of the matter is that we all experience the good and the bad, no matter where we are in the world we are - Hogwarts, York, or Baltimore. I am so fortunate to have dear friends like Molly - I would much rather feel bereft at her parting than never have had her visit at all.<br />
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<b>Ice Cream on the River Ouse with Rachel:</b> Luckily, just two days later on a Bank Holiday Monday, my friend Rachel and I got together and strolled along the River Ouse. We got ice cream from the ice cream boat!<br />
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<b>Bird-Watching:</b> It has been marvelous watch spring come to Yorkshire. One lovely thing that I now do on my near-daily walks is check out the many families of geese. Waterfowl are a York staple because of the two large rivers that meet in York, the Rivers Ouse and Foss.<br />
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Seeing sweet tiny goslings toddle their way behind their overprotective and proud parents fills my heart with a tenderness I cannot put into words.Other people often stop to watch them, too, the other night I came upon a woman around my age who was anxiously holding up traffic to help a few wayward gesese get across the street safely.<br />
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The next night, I saw two geese families slowly and deliberately make their way from the River Ouse to Clifford's Tower, crossing two wide lanes of traffic as the cars sat patiently waiting for each tiny gosling to make it. It was like watching the Queen process; the birds had no sense that they were holding up peoples' progress. Their job was simply to find greener grass for their children to munch.<br />
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Still another evening, I spent nearly twenty minutes entranced by two geese families who were sharing a tiny sandbar on the River Foss. At just about the same time, both sets of baby birds trundled their way under their respective mothers' wings to settle in for the night. It took a very long time to get them situated. The mothers sat patiently, their wings unfurled slightly, as their babies fought for prime real estate underneath. One little head kept popping up between the mother's wing and body, staring out like a periscope at the world while her siblings tussled beneath her, and I found myself laughing out loud.<br />
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The goslings grow quickly, so that some of the spring's first-borns who could fit into the palm of my hand only weeks ago now are gawky teenagers. They look quite dinosauric, their long necks awkwardly bobbing up and down as they walk and peck at the grass.<br />
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<b>Volunteering with The Island:</b> I'm still very involved with <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/starring-island.html">The Island,</a> which is one of the <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/mission-partners-sunday.html">charities based out of our church</a>. I spend every Wednesday evening helping with their Youth Clubs, and I volunteer each Thursday afternoon at Schools-Based Mentoring. Each week, ten mentors and ten mentees go to a local primary school in the nearby village of Clifton. It's walking distance for me, luckily. We do group activities to help the kids build their confidence and have 1-to-1 time, too.<br />
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My mentee, N, is so much fun. Mentoring has taught me the importance of being consistent for N - no matter what is happening in my life, she deserves my undivided and enthusiastic attention. Additionally, I've learned how to be more sanguine when she's having a bad day. I can't get anxious when I know that she's sad about something. I simply am there to be whatever she needs that week - someone to talk to, someone to draw with, someone to teach her cartwheels.<br />
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Because of a change-up in The Island's staffing, I've ended up leading the Schools-Based program for the last three weeks, in addition to my role as a mentor. We finished up this past week with a presentation to some of the kids' classmates, parents, and teachers that the other mentors and I planned together. Despite some stage fright from the kids, it went wonderfully. The best part was the little party afterwards where we could just hang out, eat cake, and do <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPMx9XUg5LQ">The Floss</a>. (I think I've finally learned this weird little dance, thanks to about a thousand tutorials by ten-year-olds week after week.)<br />
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Working directly with children and families is what I would like for my career, in part because I've realized that things like mentoring kids (as well as activities Crafts with a Cause and Carecent) bring me such great joy.<br />
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<b>Tuesday Coffee Mornings: </b>My role at Coffee Mornings, which happen each Tuesday morning from 10 - 12.30 is essentially to set-up beforehand, make coffee, prepare teas, talk to people, and clean-up afterwards. I also am on the rotation to lead the post-Coffee mid-week service.<br />
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Easy enough. Drink tea, eat biscuits, sit around for a few hours.<br />
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But I find Coffee Mornings quite challenging. This is because the regulars who attend frequently gossip about other members of the church. They are not welcoming to strangers. They aren't interested in turning Coffee Mornings into a ministry of St. Columba's for the community.<br />
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We all have our Potions classes, right?<br />
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Besides using some Unforgivable Curses or throwing a crocodile heart at their faces a la Ron Weasley, I have developed another fun technique to cope. I simply use the petty/boring conversations as material for a hypothetical Britcom that I'm writing in my head. When I separate myself by seeing the negativity as potential for a humor-filled TV show, I feel much more cheerful and can chuckle inwardly. Am I a particularly nice person on Tuesday mornings, as I inwardly cringe/gripe/complain/make jokes? Not really. I'm like a Death Eater.<br />
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I usually do enjoy the midday Tuesday service, but when it's my turn to lead, I dread it. I've discovered I really hate leading worship services. This YAGM is definitely not going to be one of the 30% that become Lutheran pastors.<br />
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<b>Zumba:</b> I love Zumba! I'm not so good at Quidditch, to be honest, so when I discovered an affordable Zumba class in January I was really excited. The people who come are welcoming, chatty, and fun, and the teacher is so enthusiastic. It feels like a little community, and I look forward to Tuesday evenings each week.<br />
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One of the things I love about Zumba in general is its diversity and inclusivity. York is extremely homogenous, but our class still attracts people from all over the world. It doesn't just bring fit gym-rats, thank goodness, because I can't dance to save my life. My worst fear is that someone I know from outside Zumba will wind up in a class with me. It's not something you want to see. Fortunately, it's a very accepting crowd and Zumba emphasizes exercise for fun rather than precision!<br />
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<b>Day Trips:</b> Lately, I've had some lovely day trips. In the beginning of April, I took a solo trip to explore Malton, a small Yorkshire market town.<br />
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I went to Beningbrough Hall, an English stately home, with Derek and Isobel.<br />
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I visited the Goddards House, which is another National Trust property formerly owned by the Terry family, who were big chocolate factory owners here in York.<br />
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And just last weekend, I spent the day in Leeds, getting a stellar massage at John Lewis (thanks to Basma didi!), meeting up with a friend of a friend who has done amazing international work, and hanging out with my dear YAGM friend Grace!<br />
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My absolute favorite quote from Harry Potter and the Deathy Hallows is this: <i>"Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart?"</i><br />
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Reading these spectacular lines makes me wonder how Harry felt once Voldemort had been conquered. Perhaps he felt that he didn't need the excitement of duels and battles or the wildness of dragon rides any longer. He just wanted the quiet joy of ordinariness.<br />
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When I read these lines, I am almost breathless with a sense of gratitude for own whole and healthy body, the health of the ones I love, and their presence in my life. These are the things that make life so special, and luckily for me, they happen to be a part of my normal existence. But that does not mean they should be taken for granted. Ordinary life is something to cherish, something to celebrate, simply because of the ability to live it. The every day - that is where the magic happens.<br />
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-73549535333366658052018-05-18T09:21:00.000+01:002018-05-18T09:29:51.916+01:00Royalists and republicansUnless you're living under a giant Stonehenge-sized boulder, you will know that Prince Harry of Wales and Meghan Markle are getting married.<br />
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I'm super excited that there is a royal wedding while I'm actually living here, and it seems the whole nation has been thrown into a frenzy of preparing for the big day. The wedding, combined with the warm weather, has given York a very festive feel of late. Every shop window has something Harry and Meaghan related - I've included pictures throughout!<br />
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I have always <i>adored</i> everything related to the British monarchy. For a while my most-loved library book was <i>What If You Were Royal?</i>. It chronicles the history of the monarchy and describes the current royal family's lives (for children). The obsession never faded as I got older, even when I learned less attractive and more salacious details about this famous family (Squidygate, eurgh).<br />
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When Kate and William got married, I bought not one but two of the People Magazine collector editions. I got rid of one when I was cleaning my room before I moved here...but I kept the other copy.<br />
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A few months ago I embarked on a personal research project. I wanted to understand the modern-day British perspective on the monarchy. I began to ask people in conversation to tell me about their opinions of the royals. It did not come out of nowhere - I'd already started to be treated to church members' opinions about the monarchy, whether I wanted to hear it or not, so I decided to ask others in my growing circle of acquaintances and friends what they thought.<br />
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Below is my thesis derived from this data.<br />
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<u><b>Should They Stay or Should They Go?</b></u></div>
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<u><b>An Informal Review of British Attitudes Towards Their Nation's Crown</b></u></div>
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The study has taken place over the course of about three months. My participants include young, middle-aged, and old mostly white British people of relative means. My methodology included informal qualitative interviews consisting of about two or three framing questions and open-ended discussion. Disclaimer: This is not a peer-reviewed or scientifically validated.<br />
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I was able to sort my results into several groups and code the data accordingly. Based on my approximations, about 50% of my subjects consider themselves republicans. Spelled thusly with a lowercase "r", this means that they do not wish to have a monarchy in Britain any longer. Most republicans followed up with comments that affect that the monarchy is a waste of precious taxpayer dollars and hearkens back to a time when Britain was more overtly classist than it is now.<br />
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The subjects who consider themselves republicans are of all ages or gender lines. Women and men both adhered to this belief. My piano teacher, Helen, who recently turned 70, told me that the French have invented two good things: good cheese and the guillotine. The guillotine, she says, is the most effective tool for ridding a country of its royalty, and should be used forthwith on our current regents.<br />
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Shantonu's cousin, Apu, who is an American living in Britain for some thirty years, believes that the monarchy represents a detrimental societal structure and continues to promulgate class barriers. While I heard these types of beliefs expressed from both men and women in my study, it seemed to be more men than women who consider themselves republicans.<br />
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Royalists, however, feel that the monarchy is good value for its money. The tourism in this country is abetted strongly by the presence of a living and still-active Queen, and they argue that certain studies have shown that the monarchy brings in more money than it costs taxpayers. Also, the royal family provides a certain cohesiveness to the country. Some said things like, "I could not imagine life without them," and even, "I don't know where we'd be without them."<br />
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Derek, my supervisor, who considers himself a republican (and indeed taught me the phrase), said that while he does not like the premise, many great nations have a ruling leader and then a further figurehead for more ceremonial duties. In the United States, we've gone one better, and elected a former star of his own reality television program to represent us to other nations around the globe.<br />
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To that end, being a royalist or republican reminds me of voting for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton in this last election. Families were quite divided, and sometimes along marital lines. In some cases, it's also a conversation best left off the dinner table.<br />
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One very interesting and, if I may add, touching piece of my study: Almost to a one, each participant said that they respected and admired the Queen for her sixty-plus years of service that started at the the tender age of 25. (This includes my guillotine-loving piano teacher.) They say she has served and represented her country well, and has been through many hard times. She is a strong emblem of British culture and many said, even republicans, that she inspires them.<br />
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However, similarly interestingly and much more dire: Most people I spoke with (dare I say all? It seemed like that) do not like Prince Charles and Camilla. They said that they were very worried about his ascension to the throne. The most mild thing said about Prince Charles by my participants was that they "weren't sure" about him. Let me translate for you: In British-speak, "not sure of" is American for, "I really don't like him and this probably won't end well." Some people even expressed, rather morosely, that Princes Charles becoming king will signal the end of the monarchy.<br />
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Most wished that it could skip him over and jump to William and Kate, who are widely popular. Even republicans seemed to have high opinions of the young royals, and said that they felt that they were heralding a new era.<br />
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As for me? Well, I don't really know anymore. The monarchy was nice when I didn't live here, and I still love the history attached to it. But when I'm serving breakfast to people who have spent consecutive months sleeping in doorways around the city centre of York, I can't help but think it's a colossal waste of money and resources. I do see the appeal of something that feels community-oriented, however, and I love the feeling of all being in together on something, like we were for Royal Baby Watch 2018 and now for the Royal Wedding.<br />
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If I had my way, I probably would not change much, except to cut down the vast expense incurred by their bopping around all over the place and security details and fancy sideways hats. Meghan Markle does seem like she will bring a lot to the royal family. Just the other day I saw her as being quoted saying, "I'm American and I hug!" Thank ya Jesus, a woman who can really stand up for our American values among all these cold, uptight British fish...er, citizens.<br />
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Supposedly Ms. Markle represents a vast departure from the old days, when the royalty would never have married someone who is half-Black. I applaud and celebrate this. And, given all I have learned about British class, division of labor, and socioeconomic troubles, I think it will be even more exciting when a royal marries someone who isn't already a multi-millionaire.<br />
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So, will I be watching the Royal Wedding tomorrow? Well, as the Minnesotans would say, <i>you betcha! </i>Fancy, full of fanfare, and a waste of taxpayer dollars - how could I not?! Even caught as I am between being a die-hard Royalist and a newly moral republican, this American isn't willing to give up the chance to get excited in the British event of the season, featuring overpaid and under-worked celebrities that did nothing to merit their status. After all, I am from the colonies that <i>invented</i> reality-TV - it takes me back to my roots.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-18000979742790711562018-05-08T15:13:00.000+01:002018-05-08T15:13:07.678+01:00My Tribe Visits, Part 2See Part 1 <a href="https://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-tribe-visits-part-1.html">here</a> if you missed it!<br />
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At the beginning of April, my family returned home to Baltimore and just days later, my aunt and uncle arrived! This was also a very special visit. I've never traveled with just my aunt and uncle (although I guess it was just them traveling, not me). I couldn't take more time off work as I'd just taken a bundle when my family visited, but we spent some nice evenings together wandering around and having delicious meals.<br />
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It's fun to step outside yourself and watch your relationships change over time - growing up, an aunt is an aunt and an uncle is an uncle. They are important, meaningful relationships, to be sure. But then slowly, if you're lucky (and I happen to be), that relationship deepens to be something more. It becomes a friendship, and that's how I feel about my aunt and my uncle. I feel lucky to have them in my life.<br />
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Only a week after that, Shantonu came to visit me for a second time this year! His first trip was amazing. I was so glad he could come back. I definitely feel very fortunate to have seen him twice during my YAGM year. I know that some people in long-distance relationships go much more than four months without seeing their partner and do a great job, but man...long-distance is HARD. I miss him a lot.<br />
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We started our visit together over the weekend in Cambridge, where we hung out with Shantonu's cousins. We attended an art show, punted in the river (very famous thing to do in Cambridge!), and ate yummy food prepared by Veronica.<br />
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And, since I had just found out that I had been accepted into the University of Maryland, Baltimore School of Social Work (YAYYY!!!), Veronica also made me the cutest and funnest cake to celebrate! It was a complete surprise. We came in and sat down for tea, and Apu said, "Oh, why don't we have cake?", and Veronica said, "Oh yes, good idea!" And then she set down in front of me a cake and said, "We thought we'd make it a Maryland-themed cake to celebrate your acceptance!"<br />
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After I'd gotten over my surprise, I made some joking comment about her whipping up cakes left and right - but I totally thought it had been store-bought. After all, it had the shape of a terrapin on the top of it. Nope. Turns out she had made it home-made. She's that good.<br />
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I returned from Cambridge for church on Sunday (my work-week here is Sunday-Thursday) and he rejoined me Sunday evening. It was a take-your-boyfriend-to-work-week and his company made the week so much more fun. He helped me at all the activities I do throughout the week and explored York on his own when I was doing the few things he couldn't join me for.<br />
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We also snuck in a nice bike ride along the river and some delicious meals and movie-watching.<br />
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And, on one of York's warmest days yet, we had a late afternoon proper tea outside in the square.<br />
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Over the following weekend we had a short trip to Liverpool to meet Shantonu's uncle who lives there. We saw the city of Southport which is a coastal town. I don't meet many English cities that I don't love, but I didn't love Southport. It's wide and flat, and even though we visited on a sunny day, it lacks that little zest that makes English cities so interesting.<br />
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However, I did love meeting his uncle and his family, who are all lovely, and the village outside of Southport that they live in has lots of greenery. I hope we get to go back and see them again.<br />
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I was really sad to say goodbye to Shantonu, more than I expected. I thought I would feel sort of blase - it's only three months til we see each other again and then I'm home for good! - but I just felt sad. Three months feels longer now that I'm actually staring at it in the face.<br />
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When Shantonu left, it was hard knowing that the next time I see him, I will have said goodbye to York. I'm split down the middle. Part of me wants to stay forever here in this time and space where I'm growing so much spiritually and emotionally and constantly doing new things, meeting new people, trying and failing and succeeding at life experiments.<br />
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But part of me wants <i>so badly</i> to be back in Baltimore, with the people I love and celebrate and cherish. There aren't words to describe how they fill my heart. Since my visitors left, I've felt more achingly homesick for my family and friends than I have in a long time.<br />
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To be frank, though, my inner conflict doesn't really matter. Whichever way you slice it, I'm going home in about three months. Home won't be the same place as when I left, and I won't be the same as when I left it. I've grown a lot and things will have changed in my absence.<br />
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I have a choice. I could spend the next three months worrying about my return, missing people, wishing I was with them, and fretting about what's to come.<br />
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But like I said in <a href="https://yorktoyork.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-tribe-visits-part-1.html">My Tribe Visits, Part 1</a>, I've realized that the best way to have an experience is to appreciate what you have more than what you don't have.<br />
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So I won't choose to worry (as much as I am able to make that choice, being the natural worrier/forward-thinker that I am). No, as much as I'm able I will choose appreciate what I have in York while I'm here. It is perfectly imperfect, beautiful and rich. This time here is fleeting and precious.<br />
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When I go home, it will be much the same. I will embrace the experience I'm having. No matter where I am in the world, it's going to be perfectly imperfect. It will be beautiful and rich in new and different ways.<br />
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And no matter what place we call home, for all of us, the time we have in the world is fleeting and precious.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-54344097961149248082018-05-07T15:12:00.000+01:002018-05-07T15:12:11.091+01:00My Tribe Visits, Part 1These last few months have seen a slew of visitors coming to York to visit me.<br />
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In February, Jamison, one of my dearest friends from college, came to York.<br />
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We went up to Glasgow with two of my new friends, Aline and Chantal (both au pairs who are originally from Germany and living here for the year). None of us had traveled together before, but somehow we all clicked perfectly! It was a really magical journey - we all got along and had meaningful conversations. Our traveling styles' were in sync.<br />
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It was one of those rare weekends that I know I'll look back on and feel deeply blessed to have had. After a day in the city, we took a bus tour up to the Highlands.<br />
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<i>We saw a castle!</i></div>
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The last day was spent again in Glasgow. I would highly recommend a visit to this magical city! Especially to Kelvingrove Museum and Park.<br />
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<i>The city center</i></div>
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Then we returned to York and while I was working, Jamison got to explore York and took a day trip to Liverpool. We also celebrated his 26th birthday! I was a bad friend and made him a non-vegan dessert because I got frustrated with my various attempts at finding/making a birthday vegan dessert.<br />
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Oh well. Luckily Jamison is not militant. He ate the buttery birthday flapjacks, and we had a great time overall catching up and hanging out.<br />
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<i>I can't believe it's not fake-butter!</i></div>
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Next to visit me was my godmother, Mrs. Diane! Despite the weather, which was the COLDEST I have ever experienced (and that is saying something in this country), we had a wonderful time exploring York on her first day.<br />
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Then over the weekend we took a mini-holiday to Scarborough! Yes, the same Scarborough as in Scarborough Fair.<br />
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The best part of this trip was when we made it into Scarborough. Mrs. Diane had booked a place for us to stay and I didn't know anything about it - until, fighting our way against a bitter wind, we rounded the corner and she said, "This is it!"<br />
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I looked up and there in front of me was a giant WINDMILL! I have not been so surprised in a long time. It turns out she had found this <a href="http://www.scarborough-windmill.co.uk/">bed and breakfast</a> online - it's an old disused windmill with a few adjoining guesthouses.<br />
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We, however, got to stay INSIDE this beautiful building. It was really magnificent. Mrs. Diane is one of those rare people who is both creative and thoughtful, so while I was astonished that we were staying in a windmill, it actually doesn't surprise me that she thought of this for our weekend away together.<br />
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I'm a bit of a baby about the cold, I'll admit it, but I've gotten better since moving here. Even so, this three-day period was terrible. As we stood on a pedestrian bridge overlooking the iron-gray foaming sea beneath us, we had to brace ourselves in order to stay in one place simply because the winds were so heavy. The winds alone would have been kind of fun, but the temperatures were freezing, too, which made me less happy.<br />
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Weirdly, this day was the exact same day that winds were so strong back home that the government and schools closed! It was such an odd coincidence.<br />
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In addition to exploring Scarborough, we did a few of our other favorite things - sleeping, eating, watching movies, playing ukulele (OK, that's all Mrs. Diane), writing, and reading. It was luxuriously delicious to snuggle up inside where it was cozy and enjoy some time catching up and hanging out.<br />
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Mrs. Diane loved the space because it had round walls - as an artist, she has an eye for the small details that make things beautiful. I loved it because it was warm and I felt like I was in a storybook. For all the years we've known each other, we've not gotten to travel much together, so this was a very special weekend for us both.<br />
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Just over three weeks later, my family came to visit! My dad, Sue, Krissy, and Tommy all arrived into London, where I met them. I thought it would be SO WEIRD to see them again after not having seen them for seven months - that's the longest I've gone without seeing my family ever - but actually it felt really normal in a very good way. We had a ton of fun.<br />
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<i>My crazy fam</i></div>
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We spent five exciting and jam-packed days exploring London. I must admit to being a tiny bit proud of my ability to navigate the city, which only a year and a half ago I'd never even been to. The first time I came I simply followed Shantonu around, and the second time I simply followed my cousin Erin around!<br />
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But this time, I guided my family.<br />
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On one of those days, we took a bus tour to Bath and Stonehenge! It was excellent, though we all agreed we needed more time in each place. And that our tour guide wasn't very funny, even though he tried to be.<br />
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Because no month this year has been complete without me getting sick at least once, I managed to come down with a nasty cold that turned into a sinus infection. That was fun. Pumped full of Strepsils, Airborne, and Tylenol, we continued our travels.<br />
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Then we took the train up to York. I was very excited to show them my home. When I first arrived in the city at the tail-end of August, I began my year-long practice of wandering around on aimless, hours-long walks. And even on those extremely early walks, I would plan what I would show my family when they came to visit. So many things reminded me of them and I couldn't wait to share the experience. I've been mapping out their visit since, literally, Day 1.<br />
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So it was really magical to show them York. It was hard to live up to my own expectations of how great I wanted it to be. My family were willing explorers and gave all the appropriate reactions - they loved pretty much everything - but the weather did not cooperate. It was rainy and cold.<br />
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And I kept having the feeling that they weren't seeing enough - I had so much I wanted to show them. I wanted them to see the city as I did, which is long aimless walks around interspersed with many hours on weekends spent in museums, cathedrals, parks, bookshops, stores, and the library.<br />
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I wanted them to see its sunny side, its windy side, its cobbled-streets-filled-with-drunken-revelers-side, its clear-evening-stars-in-the-sky side, not just the rainy-touristy-gross side. I wanted them to wander aimlessly for hours and flit in and out of bookshops and stores. I wanted them to take every tour of York possible at least three times, like I have, and to waste time at M&S and Waterstones, and to wander slowly along the city walls, getting annoyed at tourists and gazing up at the Minster from all sides.<br />
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But in just five days, that isn't possible. I had to reckon with that. We hit the York highlights and we did a lot more than that too - I think they saw a lot more than what the average York tourist would see - but when they left, I realized something important.<br />
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The best way to have an experience is to appreciate what you have more than what you don't have.<br />
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My family certainly embodies this. Despite the crap weather, they loved being in York and made sure to have a fabulous time. They made sure I had a fabulous time. It was an incredible trip together.<br />
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That idea can be applied to a lot of things. I thought about it and realized it applies to my YAGM year. Certainly, living in any country this year would have been a valuable time of growth, but I'm so happy I'm here in York. I'm having a great experience, learning and changing, so I don't really know if I'm missing out on any other type of experience. If I am, really, what does it matter? I'm happy. I appreciate what I have here in York. I'm blessed.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-7545315350987642032018-04-29T16:26:00.001+01:002018-04-29T16:56:00.515+01:00Tevas, Trump, and TypecastingI was running extremely late for church today. When I arrived, I was grumpy and tired and walked in hoping to simply coast through the rest of the morning, but a few minutes into the service, a family entered. It was a man, woman, and their three young children.<br />
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When they walked in I thought, with some surprise, "They don't look British."<br />
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We all know typecasting is wrong and we all do it anyway - our brains jump to conclusions. That doesn't make us bad people. Confronting our biases and challenging ourselves each time we make assumptions is the most important thing. I've slowly learned not to live in guilt over my own failings and just to move on, keep working on it. We are all racist, biased, and prejudiced - it's when you don't recognize that in yourself (and society) to try and change it that it is dangerous. </div>
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So why did I <i>not </i>think they looked British? The mom was wearing Teva sandals and a nose ring, the dad had a big beard and khaki shorts, and the children looked like sweet little sprites. I was impressed at how the kids immediately found the books and art supplies I had stowed at the back of the church and were quiet and contented for the ENTIRE service. </div>
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After the service, I went downstairs and was getting a rejuvenating mug of hot water when someone told me that the family was American. "Aha!" I thought. "I knew it."</div>
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Turns out, the family is traveling the world for an entire year. They were already home-schooling their children when, after a family tragedy and some upheaval, they decided to rent out their home in San Francisco. Using a brokerage company that helps them figure out some of the logistical details and their own savvy, they have been on the road since October. They've visited Australia, New Zealand, China, Thailand, Sri Lanka, the Maldives, Singapore, Morocco, Zimbabwe, South Africa, France, and are now here in the United Kingdom. </div>
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Sounds like your crunchy, creative, hippie, and typical, albeit pretty exciting, California family right? </div>
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I thought so too. They are a lovely couple with equally lovely kids. The mom, Jessica, and I had a wonderful conversation. She was warm, friendly, and reminded me of why I <i>miss </i>talking to Americans on a daily basis - the energy! She was expressive, laughed, used her hands, and I found myself relaxing and sharing, mirroring, and laughing a lot too. It was refreshing. </div>
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Our conversation started to get deeper. I confessed that I have started to consider myself a socialist here in the UK - almost a dirty word to many Americans - because I admire how the government attempts to provide comprehensive social care in an egalitarian way. </div>
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She disagreed. Her take was different and she described a bad experience she'd had in a French hospital as an example - waiting for 8 hours, watching patients lie in gurneys along the wall out in the open, seeing muck on the hospital floor, only to be told she couldn't be given a test to determine if she had giardia because it was too expensive and that if symptoms persisted, she could come back in ten days and try again.</div>
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My experience thus far with British healthcare have been intense and variable, so I could understand her frustration. We weren't agreeing but we were having a healthy discussion. We talked about how social care in other countries is said to be better, but Jessica doesn't feel that it is. By and large, I do feel that it is better here in the UK. How she didn't feel that the high tax rate and the privileges it provides in certain European countries are worth the loss of personal choice and freedom, while I don't see it that way. She likes the option of personal choice but I personally would give some of that up if I was getting more care from the government. </div>
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It was fascinating. Her husband, William, joined us and the kids flitted between us and ate biscuits. We went further than I've gone on social issues in a long time. It was enlightening to hear another perspective from Americans who are living abroad, especially ones who haven't become the frustrated socialist I feel I'm turning into but seemed to have a nuanced perspective that I admit I often lack. </div>
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What was most interesting about our conversation? That's easy. </div>
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William and Jessica voted for Donald Trump.</div>
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While our conversation about social issues was deep, it felt even more enriching once I'd unearthed this fact. Granted, this family is used to talking to liberals, and they admitted that most of their friends in California were progressives (their terminology), so they both told me that they understand how inflammatory politics are. </div>
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Jessica also told me that the family had been featured in a New York Times article about traveling families. In print, the article was titled "The New Nomad: Have Wi-Fi, Will Travel" but online, in order to boost clicks, the article was titled <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/14/style/moving-to-canada-jk-traveling-until-2020.html">"Some Said They'd Flee Trump's America. These People Actually Did."</a> <i>(Because the family's names are published in this article and used on their <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BgJ6KS6BaF4/?taken-by=letsadventuresomemore">Instagram account</a>/<a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/letsadventuresomemore">Youtube account</a>, I'm choosing not to use initials or pseudonyms in this post.) </i>The funny thing was, she said, they didn't flee. It was simply for personal reasons and has nothing to do with American politics. They voted for Trump, and they consider themselves conservatives. </div>
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Back home, I am all sorts of frustrated and judgmental about the ways that a vote for Trump has negatively affected my country. Talking to people who disagree with me politically about social justice issues drives me so mad, I often shut down the listening part of my brain and commence smile-nod mode.<br />
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I'm still intensely angry about what Trump and other Republicans are doing. But something in me has shifted. </div>
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I can't pin it on an exact moment. This year has slowly changed me in many ways. Yes, I complain more than ever about the state of American politics, but American people, they're something else. They're complex and nuanced, just like people everywhere. </div>
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And just like people everywhere, the choices we make don't adhere to a check-sheet, as much as the media and social media would like to have it. Californian. Homeschools. Wears Tevas. Voted for Trump. These things don't go together on the surface, do they? </div>
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This family denies all sorts of stereotypes. When they walked in, I had typecast them and then I typecast them again when we started talking. When they admitted to voting for Trump, I could have continued to stereotype them. </div>
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In that heartbeat of a moment, after learning they had voted for Trump, I decided to listen to what the universe had been telling me all morning. <b>Stop making assumptions.</b> And instead of shutting down and negating their experiences because they were politically polar opposites from me, I made a choice. I let my mind stay open. The decision happened in a fragment of a moment and it wasn't entirely conscious.<br />
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The most surprising things happened because of that tiny internal pivot: I continued to relish our conversation. I continued to enjoy talking to Jessica and William. It educated me. We connected. </div>
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Jessica and William provided fascinating, intelligent perspectives on their travels. We discussed the state of the American middle-class in California, money, home-schooling and world-schooling, church, religion and culture. Jessica and I even touched on the importance and global relevance of the Black Lives Matter movement.<br />
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We agreed that first world privilege is a <i>thing</i> and we feel different about it now that we have seen the other side of it - her family when they spent time in South Africa especially and for me when I spent time living in Mexico. We didn't agree on everything, but we <i>listened </i>to each other. </div>
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Best of all, they were kind. They asked me questions about my own journey and made me feel comfortable. They engaged. When we said goodbye, we hugged. </div>
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It wasn't what I expected<i>. </i>I let myself listen and it was so good.<br />
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I could argue that they aren't typical Trump voters. Jessica even said herself that they're surrounded in San Francisco by friends who are liberal to the core. They're homeschoolers and have lived abroad for the last seven months. </div>
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So, no, perhaps they aren't typical Trump voters. Maybe, I thought, as I walked home, there <i>aren't </i>typical Trump voters. Jessica and William are complex, compassionate, and thoughtful. They care about their children and their country and the world around them. Just like you, just like me. Just like people everywhere, no matter who they voted for. </div>
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That's the thing, though, isn't it? That's the real message behind the gut feeling I had this morning when, in the space of a single heartbeat, I decided not to close my mind. I'm so glad I heard that small God-voice telling me to keep engaging past the boundaries of politics. I'm so glad I <i>listened.</i> Thank goodness I did, because this wasn't a typical conversation and these aren't typical people.<br />
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None of us are.<br />
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-27573466553470252682018-04-27T16:50:00.000+01:002018-04-27T16:50:30.254+01:00British-ismsI've been pretty open about the fact that originally, moving to England wasn't top on my list because I wanted to become proficient in Spanish. In the end, I am unspeakably glad I am here for my YAGM year, even though it has nothing to do with learning Spanish at all - there are just so many other great things about living in York. And learning British-isms is certainly fun and satisfying in its own way. I kept a list in my journal in the beginning of new-to-me phrases, but over time forgot to be amazed when someone said something I'd only ever heard before in Harry Potter.<br />
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But I started thinking about learning a language all over again thanks to Apu (Shantonu's cousin) who sent a list of 88 British Phrases to Shantonu and me. <a href="http://uk.businessinsider.com/british-slang-that-will-confuse-anybody-who-didnt-grow-up-in-the-uk-2017-11?r=US&IR=T">Read <i>88 British Phrases That Will Confuse Anyone Who Didn't Grow Up in the UK</i> here.</a> On first thought, I added Number 89 - <i>naff</i>, which basically means something is messed up. Then I thought of a few other Yorkshire-specific words. It still delights me to hear them - things like <i>nowt</i> or <i>hiya</i>. <i>Nowt</i> means nothing - I was walking down the street lately and a woman asked a man if he had been given any sort of directions or assistance, and he responded with a very emphatic<i> nowt.</i> I was inordinately pleased by this exchange for some reason. It's the little things, <i>innit? (isn't it)</i><br />
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Another Yorkshire expression that I <i>fancy (like)</i> is the York-typical greeting of "Hiya! You alright?" It's like saying, "Hey, how are you?" but when I first moved here it confused me endlessly. Specifically, one of the women who works at The Island would greet me as such. And I never could figure out how to respond. Yes? I'm alright? Fine? OK? To me, at the beginning, it sounded like she was asking if I was doing OK, which to me then meant I must have looked like I <i>wasn't</i> doing OK. It didn't sound like the equivalent of "How are you?" at all. And I was worried I would be <i>par </i>if I responded incorrectly <i>(committing a breach of social etiquette)</i>.<br />
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I know some Americans find this phrase rather <i>mingy (unpleasant) </i>but I began to like its lilting cadence, and now, somehow, it feels perfectly natural to respond to the query with a simple, "Yeah, you?". And I find myself greeting others with this same easy expression - it rolls off the tongue to say it as I swing my groceries up on the counter or walk in to a doctor's office. It's not the same as mastering the pluperfect tense in French, but upon realizing that I've adopted this quirky pleasantry, I was pretty <i>chuffed (pleased)</i>. I felt <i>bloody dench (damn cool).</i>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-69583600495859803542018-04-22T16:55:00.000+01:002018-04-22T16:55:10.884+01:00Open Eyes<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #28628f; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;">
“In your first few hours in a new place, while you’re still dazed, before you can even really believe you’ve arrived, you see it more vividly and clearly than you ever will again.”</h2>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5em;">-- Michael Frayn, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://el2.convertkit-mail2.com/c/k0u8v0zdvh6herrlo/e5uph7/aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuYW1hem9uLmNvbS9ncC9wcm9kdWN0LzE5NDExNDc5NjgvcmVmPWFzX2xpX3RsP2llPVVURjgmY2FtcD0xNzg5JmNyZWF0aXZlPTkzMjUmY3JlYXRpdmVBU0lOPTE5NDExNDc5NjgmbGlua0NvZGU9YXMyJnRhZz10aGVoYXBwcHJvai0yMCZsaW5rSWQ9M2Y0MGU4ZWE4OWQ4YWI5NTI3ZjMxODc0NzY5Y2Y4NGY%3D&source=gmail&ust=1521465482986000&usg=AFQjCNEUz5EYl1L2LueTy4E_zmI6EaqykQ" href="https://el2.convertkit-mail2.com/c/k0u8v0zdvh6herrlo/e5uph7/aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuYW1hem9uLmNvbS9ncC9wcm9kdWN0LzE5NDExNDc5NjgvcmVmPWFzX2xpX3RsP2llPVVURjgmY2FtcD0xNzg5JmNyZWF0aXZlPTkzMjUmY3JlYXRpdmVBU0lOPTE5NDExNDc5NjgmbGlua0NvZGU9YXMyJnRhZz10aGVoYXBwcHJvai0yMCZsaW5rSWQ9M2Y0MGU4ZWE4OWQ4YWI5NTI3ZjMxODc0NzY5Y2Y4NGY=" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted rgb(40, 98, 143); color: #28628f; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Sweet Dreams</a></span></div>
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This quote evoked a strong, visceral remembrance of my first few days in England back in August. (I got it from one of <a href="https://gretchenrubin.com/">Gretchen Rubin</a>'s daily Moment of Happiness emails.)<br />
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That first day, while the four YAGMs I had traveled with were all met one-by-one by their host families or host site coordinators at the Heathrow airport, I lugged two heavy suitcases on the tube through London to King's Cross. There, I sat in a stupor watching tourists take their pictures at the Harry Potter trolley cart waiting for my train up to York. The only notable thought I recall from that hazyhour was, "Uuughhhh....what was I thinking?!?!".<br />
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Even though I was tired and overwhelmed and had no idea what was in store for me, I also remember the first few weeks of being in England as being a time where I noticed <i>everything</i> with fresh eyes and it was thrilling. I got a little frisson of pleasure whenever I discovered a quirk of British culture. I can't describe it any other way than that my eyes felt very wide open. I was soaking in the world around me. I wonder if there is a word in another language for this sensation - or an English word I don't know. If you do, send it to me!<br />
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I felt that the littlest, most mundane things were incredibly exciting - the double yellow lines on no-parking zones, driving on the left side of the road, the way that that signs had "please" and "thank you", the on-off switch at electrical outlets, and the 5p cost of every shopping bag.<br />
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It was enchanting to see ancient stone structures next door to the library, the ruins of an abbey in a public garden, to live only steps from the famed city walls.<br />
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And I really liked seeing waterfowl all over the place - York is on the water and renowned for having geese and ducks wandering about the city.<br />
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<i>Like these dudes who were strutting through the Sainsbury's parking early one morning.</i></div>
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Growing personally in relation to the city was delightful, too. I loved slowly but surely getting a sense of my surroundings and not getting lost so much (but I also kind of loved getting lost, too). I loved finally finding "my" places - the library, the bookstores, the cafes, and the parks that I'd go to when I wanted comfort and solace.<br />
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And I loved the walkability and friendliness of the streets of York. I rejoiced in the tiny triumphs of making friends and getting to know people, of getting involved with something at work, and relished a little bit of extra alone time. I felt - and still feel - like my eyes were wide open, soaking in everything new and different.<br />
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This is a joyous reflection on what makes living here wonderful, but it's also been one of the hardest years of my life, and it's easy to forget how lucky I am to be in York. When I realize I'm starting to take this year for granted, I try to capture that open-eyed feeling again and look around my temporary home and appreciate all the little fascinating details that make England unique.<br />
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I try to remember the feeling of freshness of living in a new place I had when I first arrived. The sensation of boundless appreciation for newness, captured perfectly by this quote, helps me remember what a privilege it is be living here.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-83949213817767035982018-04-17T15:27:00.000+01:002018-04-22T19:54:24.531+01:00Words from the United Kingdom YAGMsEven though I hear about their lives almost every day through our group message, I still love reading my fellow UK YAGM friends' writings - it's a reminder all over again of the fantastic things they are doing. Many of us keep blogs, and as I've mentioned before, we are all required by the program to send a newsletter every two months. This keeps our home churches, families, and communities up-to-date on our lives abroad, and serves as a way to reflect on our growth.<br />
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Since I write a lot on here about me, I thought it would be nice to share a little bit more about some of the amazing people who are making this year really worth it. I've mentioned before, but it's worth saying again: My YAGM cohort is THE BEST. I love this fun, crazy, emotional, thoughtful, bright, and brilliant cohort of mine.<br />
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Here are some of our recent writings. Just click on the person's name to read one of their recent blog posts or newsletters. Enjoy!<br />
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<a href="https://mailchi.mp/6842f3933c16/redefining-privilege?e=a2b1c7885f">Allison</a>: Allison is also serving at United Reformed Church like me, this one in the city of Wolverhampton (somewhat close to Birmingham).<br />
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<a href="https://musingsofgrace17.wordpress.com/">Grace</a>: Grace serves at two Anglican churches in Salford, which is a borough of Manchester.<br />
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<a href="https://mollyyagmblog.wordpress.com/">Molly</a>: Molly serves at a Baptist church in Didcot, which is a town about 20 minutes outside of Oxford.<br />
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<a href="https://us16.campaign-archive.com/?u=1389aa535f5333e3652f2c6ca&id=3a2ef3ab5f">Annie:</a> Annie serves on-board a bus that is open to kids each night as a safe place to hang out - basically a mobile youth center. Her placement is in the city of Leicester.<br />
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<a href="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=30a49c72f1&view=att&th=1628c4d8869d769a&attid=0.1&disp=inline&realattid=f_jfjv5cyx0&safe=1&zw&saddbat=ANGjdJ_kyt5P0OSY4gPXmHneEmWR4ujp1Crd0GmJ9qP0MtvhuFM50TWH2Pe0XxgQGKHOhkOuR1_TVaYjMaDN4MNz9K7rm0TmDaaPsEpPNpes4ZZKVzNm-hd6ArLJvDojXkHuuRFGeQN-dsZWf8nxCDdYXbDTD70MnorGujvIGONbLVORtYlAP4MwN1ZPDKLGVKL_B6psFisxWMdCWlg_CNphoRlpKpAPGAEIPK50-cRj1qqXE6zOn5bx-3-ZRuY9PWT6-x0XtZ3M5B6N-qzpfbInLYuJVUyVkjL-yFJclQVuA3OJBdIpd2M-JlpvuejL9GqwqNK4rw7G5p8gaL9SrJphax9lAMQarnA5MhreTbJ41i0RmrkBQOfuGy8aAjDZlPWxIli9cOn6TvKDtJSQ9Bho0yGXdEweb9mL83tJ1416lNmm-UKimcWLDMfVBGcJnkDdYw-F4_1RTRQuOItIWjpTBr4f4zbt7V0s9JS1-XiZCslHysMTe7VwmsttqG3bZk1Cs-YvGwzEI2qMgt0Nct1nuJZUO7zOSoK3svqjNYTvz_xYLHB0SYRnrVFyCOIgzuX6WL9Y06-pwkowUNX320kaABk1GnEMQIup0HJODA">Sarah P.</a>: Sarah P. serves at a Baptist church in Milton-under-Wychwood.<br />
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<a href="https://jazzyintheuk.blogspot.co.uk/2018/04/easter.html">Jasmine</a>: Jasmine serves at an Anglican church in Manchester as the parish assistant.<br />
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<a href="https://pronetowanderyagm.wordpress.com/">Rosina</a>: Rosina works at four United Reformed Churches in Hull (which is also in Yorkshire!).<br />
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<a href="https://mailchi.mp/0bf781b3e1a8/harry-potter-and-the-year-in-york-expecto-patronum">Katie </a>(me!): My most recent newsletter.<br />
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Danielle: Danielle serves at an all-girls boarding school in Winchester.<br />
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Heath: Heath serves at a men's in-patient rehab clinic in Loughborough.<br />
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Sarah B,: Sarah B. serves at an afterschool program in East London.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-91736342544620553582018-04-05T21:45:00.001+01:002018-04-22T16:56:35.726+01:00Today I Am FreeToday I am free. The chains have been loosed, the bonds broken. My spirit sings and it soars.<br />
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Today was the first day since October that I went outside and did not wear a hat.<br />
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No, I am not exaggerating. I've had hat hair since OCTOBER, PEOPLE. It is not fun. But when you retain absolutely zero body heat like me, a hat is not an option but a necessity in this country, if you don't want to curl up in the fetal position next to a radiator and not move for six months. So I wear hats inside and outside. I even had someone at church ask me, whilst pointing towards my hat, "Does that thing ever leave your head?"<br />
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And so today, I felt like a woman newly freed from prison. A hat prison, if you will. A prison of having my head suffocated by the wool and polyester combos that make my hair look chronically terrible and give me dreadful dandruff and make it impossible to hear mumblers and have any sort of peripheral vision. Because OTHERWISE! Otherwise, without a hat, I would have literally frozen from the inside out. My blood would have turned into ice cubes starting with my brain and moving downwards. This is life without a hat in York. <i>That</i> would have been my life. Without a hat. In York.<br />
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So I wore the damn hat. Almost all day, <i>definitely</i> every day, I wore a hat almost everywhere.<br />
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But not today. Today I was brave, and it took only a moment to fling off my hat at the door. I said, "Goodbye hat! It is April! I do not need you!" The hat sat limply, quietly, on the counter, accepting its fate to be cast aside like the now-useless winter garment that it is. I did not look back. I marched into the gloriously rare sunshine and took a long walk, sans hat. I didn't freeze to death. I didn't regret it. I didn't miss my hat.<br />
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My spirit breathed. My soul was on fire. My head was hatless.<br />
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And my hair, given time and lots of tender loving care, may one day start to look less like the hair of a dirty man-Viking who has just taken off his helmet after battle and is combing his locks into a early-thirteenth-century-fashionable mullet for his reunion with his equally dirty woman-Viking lover. We'll see.<br />
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All in all, however, it's been a glorious day. A day to be celebrated. Life without a hat, I breathed. <i>This.</i> This is life. Today I am free.<br />
<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-13158683706473486392018-03-31T22:01:00.000+01:002018-03-31T22:01:00.686+01:00Music at St. Columba'sMusic is an integral part of life for St. Columbans. The congregation is filled with music-lovers of varying degrees and it shows by the effort they put into the activities of the church. One of the shared elements of their life together is the music that they foster and produce.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Teugs794pik/WpxrMIF646I/AAAAAAAAUUk/6ZsdxMNjLF8wunnze6QeF9LpNKIB9wc1QCLcBGAs/s1600/20180121_131057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Teugs794pik/WpxrMIF646I/AAAAAAAAUUk/6ZsdxMNjLF8wunnze6QeF9LpNKIB9wc1QCLcBGAs/s320/20180121_131057.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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When I first arrived, I was, I think, overexcited by the musical opportunities available. It was almost the first thing on peoples' lips when they were introducing me to St. Columba's: music is important to us! So I immediately (overenthusiastically) signed up to join the choir. I had no excuses why I wouldn't - I live two minutes away, I've always fancied joining my home church's choir, and I would get to socialize more with St. Columbans outside of church.<br />
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I realized about four minutes into our first practice that I might be in trouble. I just didn't know what I was supposed to be singing, as all of the other women at the rehearsal were sopranos and I am (I think) an alto (there are also men on baritone and tenor). Sensing my distress, Isobel gently told me just to sing soprano until Pam, another choir member, could come back and teach me the alto parts. But when Pam came back it transpired that a requirement of being in a choir is knowing how to read music and sing harmony. In short, to be in a choir - strangely - one must know how to sing.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i44ZlNmPcrY/Wpxq26vHxXI/AAAAAAAAUUo/cwJ0Wb_5WKIDfMz-SxkkzAQchk7ZsPelACEwYBhgL/s1600/20171010_110920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i44ZlNmPcrY/Wpxq26vHxXI/AAAAAAAAUUo/cwJ0Wb_5WKIDfMz-SxkkzAQchk7ZsPelACEwYBhgL/s320/20171010_110920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My choir career was shortlived, as I quit two weeks later and went back to performing solely in the shower. However, this has not dampened my enjoyment of other musical activities at St. Columba's. As I mentioned, I am taking<a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/piano-lessons.html" target="_blank"> piano lessons</a> from my lovely friend, Helen, who practices organ in our church. Helen has shown me an appreciation of organ in addition to teaching me piano (and even once let me play it, which was pretty cool!).<br />
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My first few experiences with concerts at St. Columba's were in the early months: a brass band concert back in September followed about a month later by an impressive choral and organ concert for Reformation Sunday. Both were delightful. We also give space to two community choirs to practice, one of whom gives us a free concert each year in thanks.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWPIdfSSRGY/WpxqqKsA_jI/AAAAAAAAUUo/Lbj1HFgSbnU1WQb_jXGoA5v01lCKyenagCEwYBhgL/s1600/20170930_210620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWPIdfSSRGY/WpxqqKsA_jI/AAAAAAAAUUo/Lbj1HFgSbnU1WQb_jXGoA5v01lCKyenagCEwYBhgL/s320/20170930_210620.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The brass band concert</i></div>
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The hymns at St. Columba's are almost always new to me. As I mentioned before in regards to <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/yuletide-in-york.html" target="_blank">Christmas music</a>, I find it hard to like new music that doesn't have an emotional overlay. Quite often, I'm ambivalent about most of the hymns we sing (but I love when the choir does an anthem, as they're quite impressive). However, there have been a few that struck a chord (music joke) and I always whip out my phone at the end of the service and take a picture of the text. (If anyone notices that I'm on my phone in church they never say anything....)<br />
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Part of St. Columba's passion for music comes from their organist, Nigel, who is very talented and passionate about his organ, whom he calls Mildred. Mildred is massive - you can read about her on the website <a href="http://stcolumbaswithnewlendal.yolasite.com/the-organ-final-version.php" target="_blank">here</a> - and Nigel is intensely devoted to her upkeep and constant improvement. I've walked into the church at odd hours on numerous occasions to find Nigel inside Mildred, tinkering with her bits and pieces.<br />
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If you're wondering if the sexual innuendos in the previous sentence are deliberate...well, yes, they are. I'm not alone in making these types of jokes about Mildred and Nigel's relationship. At choir practice during my first or second week, Nigel announced that he was going to do some work on Mildred over the weekend and make sure her innards were in order. He was, he informed us, going to replace a bit of her chest pipe. Someone else piped up and added that Nigel would be spending time stroking Mildred's chest or something to that effect, and the entire choir filled in with similarly raunchy jokes and cracked themselves up.<br />
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My eyes were popping out of my head; it was still early days and I'd not yet seen many of my staid 80-plus fellow congregants laughing, much less at sexual humor involving our organist and his organ.<br />
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<i>Mildred</i></div>
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Nigel keeps busy. Besides his involvement with Mildred, our choir, and the church services, Nigel is the mastermind behind a mainstay of St. Columba's life: Our January free organ concert series. Each year, St. Columba's hosts six visiting organists to play an hour of music at lunchtime on Saturdays. For a church that feels its size very sensitively (St. Columba's is rather small and various members of the congregation occasionally fret about this), the organ concerts brought in a huge number of outside guests, both from the organ community and the neighborhood.<br />
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<i>Nigel keeps some of his organ parts up in the balcony, which is a treasure trove of random things</i></div>
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During this concert series, I helped Isobel with her Tea Trolley and poured coffees and teas for guests. It was in this way that I made friends with Nigel's wife Steph (the human wife, not the organ one) and she has become a Crafts with a Cause member and supporter!<br />
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I also got to hear some stellar organ music at this series. I had never been a big organ fan before - I didn't dislike it but I never stopped to think about it. The only time I heard it was in church on Sundays. Ascension is blessed with an incredible organist, so I never had reason to think about how hard the organ is to play!<br />
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Learning about the organ, <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/piano-lessons.html" target="_blank">taking piano lessons</a>, and enjoying concerts have been a relatively small but extremely enjoyable part of my learning and growth here in England. Part of it is soaking up the musical experience just by being in proximity to those who are passionate about it.<br />
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Through my research in college, I learned about psychological sense of community (PSOC) and wrote my thesis about this concept. The idea is that there are four main ways that communities are created and maintained. The one I think of whenever I listen to music being played at St. Columba's is shared emotional connection, through participation in history, rituals, and activities. I got a little annoyed with research by the end of college - was any of this even real life or was it just made up by PhDs who had no knowledge of the real world? - but I now see PSOC in so many ways as I've worked in various places since graduation.<br />
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St. Columba's is no exception. Music is a way that the fellowship St. Columba's expresses itself and shares their ministry. When I'm listening to the choir, it's not only the songs that strike me but the way that it brings the fellowship together. While many churches could theoretically have the same events as St. Columba's on their musical calendar throughout the year, it's really more about the congregation's pride and passion for it, and this is what makes them unique.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-57356054679460653572018-03-24T12:01:00.000+00:002018-03-24T12:01:06.374+00:00March NewsletterHey everyone! You can check out my March YAGM newsletter <a href="https://mailchi.mp/0bf781b3e1a8/harry-potter-and-the-year-in-york-expecto-patronum">here.</a> Thanks for reading!<br />
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https://mailchi.mp/0bf781b3e1a8/harry-potter-and-the-year-in-york-expecto-patronum <br />
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In January, I wrote about <a href="https://mailchi.mp/cc69865a2ee4/five-lessons-learned-in-almost-five-months-at-hogwarts">Five Lessons I'd Learned in (Almost) Five Months at Hogwarts</a>.<br />
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In November, I wrote about <a href="https://mailchi.mp/c5f3d1333b32/harry-potter-and-the-year-in-york-haunted-happenings-at-hogwarts">Halloween in York</a>.<br />
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In September, I was still shell-shocked and wrote about <a href="https://mailchi.mp/13c09175b341/harry-potter-and-the-year-in-york">figuring out how to survive in England, Harry Potter style</a>. <br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-8056986934398300452018-03-18T14:23:00.000+00:002018-03-18T14:23:11.583+00:00The Place Where I LiveThe places we inhabit can say a lot about us. Accordingly, these places also affect us deeply. When my outer space is cluttered, I find it almost impossible to clear my mind. When the space I am in is barren, it can elicit a sense of freedom to explore and imagine new possibilities, or a sense of loneliness. When the walls are warm and the furniture comfortable, it can feel cozy and relaxing or it can feel like I'm penned in.<br />
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My house here is deliciously quaint and I adore my bedroom. It has so many things about it that give it a very British feel, which reflects the larger cultural space that I am inhabiting this year.<br />
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For example, instead of a comforter, I have duvet - the English don't seem to use comforters. The duvet cover and pillowcases are decorated with poppies, which are common to see around England as they represent remembrance of the Great War (World War I). My furniture is minimal - I have two small bedside dressers. That's it. The Great Amerian Obsession With Stuff is something I've eschewed for a long time and for the most part, I find it that British people have less than many American families do. It feels European to need less.<br />
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My carpet is wall-to-wall which to me is classically British. Every home I've been has at least one room with wall-to-wall carpet - sometimes even the bathrooms! And the room of course has a radiator to warm it.<br />
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Even in this most intimate of spaces, the culture that I'm merely borrowing for a year is inescapable. But at the same time, my home appears in the details of my living space as well. The people I love are represented here. It's not just the wall of photographs I have. It is in the little details. On my shelves, there is big bottle of lotion that my sister bought for me and sent over with Shantonu. There is a thick magazine on the topic of mindfulness my aunt sent in the mail. I have one shelf devoted to the cards I've been sent and given.<br />
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The radiator that feels so British is what I lean against when I'm Skyping or talking on the phone to my family and friends. On one of my two small dressers, I have a letter and gift from my godfather. In the top drawer with my socks and underwear are a stack of postcards waiting to be sent to friends. And in the second dresser drawer, which is filled with odds and ends, there is a pile of cold medicines that Shantonu gave me after I got sick with the flu in the fall.<br />
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In the same way, the people and experiences I've encountered here in York have seeped in as well. I have a tea towel with scenes from across Yorkshire hanging on my wall. It was gifted to me by Derek and Isobel. I have a gigantic map on the wall that I bought when Isobel took me shopping for a new planner. And some of the photographs I hung up were printed out at Boots, where I went on my friend Rachel's suggestion. I have a pair of her hand-me-down trainers. A scarf is thrown across the foot of my bed; it was knitted by my housemate Emily's mom.<br />
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A yoga mat in the corner was filched from a pile of unused ones at church. My work bag was a gift from our first Time for God retreat back in September. From my bed, I can hear the comforting rustle of my housemates as they move about. And the two small poetry books on my shelf were part of a donation box at Carecent and picked out for me by Angela, a volunteering friend there; she just sensed that I would like them. Two more books were gifts from my YAGM friend Danielle for Christmas.<br />
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The room has become a melding of my two homes - England and the United States - in so many ways. And because of this, it's a representation of me. It's not just because I have decorated the walls or picked out a happy duvet cover. It's because of the embodiment of the relationships that make me who I am. This room holds the physical presence of the people I love; the care they give me is poured out of me to become a part of the space I inhabit.<br />
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And so because I cherish people and experiences on two continents now, their influences mingle here. Thus I inhabit a space, physically and spiritually, that is a merging of my old life and my new one, a place that holds both my American and my British selves.<br />
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Living here in this place isn't always easy. It's a place in the in-between of two cultures, the moment where they meet. It can be deeply uncomfortable to be in the space in between such two disparate worlds, holding contradicting ideas. The place I am in now is a messier, fuller place than that which I inhabited before I embarked on my YAGM year here in the United Kingdom.<br />
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But holding two identities has made me a different, stronger person. It's a representation of how I am continually evolving to welcome new ideas and people into my life, and how blessed I am to be able to do this. The fullness has made the space I live in far more beautiful and rich. This place, my place, is filled with growth, renewal, and love.<br />
<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-61201192520069094712018-03-14T12:30:00.000+00:002018-03-14T12:30:00.367+00:00Fairtrade FortnightFairtrade Fortnight is a program in the United Kingdom where, for two weeks a year, <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tomatoland-Industrial-Agriculture-Destroyed-Alluring/dp/1449423450" target="_blank">Fairtrade Foundation UK</a> and other organizations celebrate the labor that supplies the country's food. It is a special two weeks to highlight the importance of purchasing fairtrade products; it emphasizes that many of the people who grow our food do not have enough money to feed their own families. <div>
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When you really think about this, it's appalling. I've always been interested in fairtrade options and this project has increased that tenfold. Reading <u><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tomatoland-Industrial-Agriculture-Destroyed-Alluring/dp/1449423450" target="_blank">Tomatoland</a></u> in college sparked my initial interest - it's about how slave labor is the force that brings tomatoes to our plates. It's a heart-wrenching and enlightening read, and even if you think you care not a whit for food or fairtrade I'd encourage you to read the book. It will make you think before you buy. </div>
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So when it was suggested that I team up with other members of St. Columba's who are interested in fairtrade (and have previously run stalls and educational activities related to the effort), I was really excited! I collaborated with a few other people and together we planned a fairtrade Stall, a fairtrade crafts session at <a href="http://yorktoyork.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/crafts-with-cause.html" target="_blank">Crafts with a Cause</a> (crafting group I run), and two fairtrade film sessions. </div>
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Isobel and I together purchased some fairtrade goods from <a href="http://www.traidcraft.co.uk/" target="_blank">Traidcraft</a>, which has all sorts of fun and delicious good-for-the-world things. Setting up the stall for our weekly church activities and for Sundays reminded me of the stall that Mr. Bob at Ascension runs each Sunday. He often sells fairtrade chocolate, coffee, and hot chocolate to benefit our partner church in Nicaragua. People were very enthusiastic about the Fairtrade stall at St. Columba's. We bought cookies, coffee (instant and filter, decaf and non), tea, chocolate, fruit bars, and dried fruit. </div>
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A few months ago, I connected with the Oxfam charity shop in Goodramgate to see if we could make anything to support Oxfam. They asked us to make a banner to encourage more volunteers. Oxfam sells fairtrade items...so it was peripherally on-message. We've been (slowly) working on this project as a group. </div>
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In addition to having my eyes opened by the fairtrade films shown at our Friday Lenten Lunch and after the church service last Sunday, my passion for fairtrade grew by attending fairtrade-themed breakfast at the Spurriergate Center. The Spurriergate Center is the coolest place - it's an old city center church that's been revamped to be a community space. There's a cafe, fairtrade shop, and play area for children. There is also a counseling service that uses the center as its base. They also host various events throughout the week (including an international conversation group I sometimes attend). </div>
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The breakfast was enlightening. Apparently, even ten years ago, fairtrade wasn't much of a thing here in the UK. The woman speaking told us that she hopes in ten or fifteen years, there is no need for the Fairtrade Fortnight campaign because fairtrade will be mainstream. Already, one third of bananas eaten in the UK are fairtrade. </div>
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I hope to bring back some knowledge and enthusiasm for fairtrade to the States. I know there are good things happening there, too, so I plan to continue supporting the cause. This is the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/Fairtradefoundation" target="_blank">Youtube Channel</a> for Fairtrade Foundation UK, which has lots of interesting (and inspiring!) videos. </div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6902102352061511206.post-12853701686505589532018-03-07T17:00:00.000+00:002018-03-07T17:00:02.357+00:00A Detox Story + Some Uplifting Things Lately For a few years now, I've had a low-key obsession with food blogs. It started with following just one that always seemed to have super good recipes. I figured it fit into my love for food, cooking, and healthy living, because that's what a lot of food blogs are all about.<br />
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But then I started reading two. Then three. It became my go-to distraction at work - just a harmless few minutes here and there when my brain felt cluttered and I needed a break. It wasn't a huge piece of my life and it gave me new recipe ideas, which I loved. I also enjoyed a glimpse into other peoples' lives.<br />
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Then I moved to England and I thought I wouldn't have time for such silly things like reading about other peoples' lives on the internet. But I was suddenly faced with lots of unscheduled time and lots of time <i>alone</i>.<br />
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That's when I started reading <i>a lot</i> of food blogs. I'm not saying I was addicted, but I definitely checked A LOT of blogs A LOT of times each week, sometimes each day. Whenever I had an unpleasant encounter, a hard day, or felt homesick, I'd practice some escapism and read food blogs. It was easier than conversation, easier than exercise, easier than pretty much anything else. It was zoning out and immersing myself into shiny, glistening lives of people who wrote about food all day long and who seemed to have themselves together when I was definitely not together.<br />
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Sometimes it was helpful - I love to cook and I had loads of recipes/recipe ideas. But oftentimes it was distracting. On the weekend if I was spending two hours reading food blogs, it was two hours I wasn't exploring in York or doing some other fun England-specific activity for the one precious year I have to do it. And if I was distracting myself from work, well, that one's obvious - I was being unproductive and that's annoying.<br />
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Escapism was a theme we talked about at YAGM orientation. One woman told us she had escaped by Skyping people from back home for hours and hours. We talked about other unhealthy ways of escapism. I think for me, food blogs had become escapism from the more challenging aspects of life here in the UK.<br />
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I could also feel myself falling into a deep comparison trap. People who write blogs - myself included - sugarcoat things and it's not always real life. I haven't always written about the super crap parts of my life on here because I like being positive and because that's also deeply personal. But also it makes it seem like life is easier than it actually is. This is what food bloggers do - understandably so - but it made me feel inadequate to read about other peoples' perfect lives.<br />
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But deciding to detox had nothing to do with all of this originally. It started because I was reading Minimalist Baker one day before going to bed. The blog writers had posted a recipe for Muhammara Dip, which is a Syrian traditional recipe.<br />
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As soon as I read the post, I was annoyed, because NOWHERE in the entire post did the writers mention that they were using (read: stealing) a recipe from a country that is currently under siege. The country of Syria is in desperate disarray and millions of people are starving, while hundreds of thousands of others have been murdered by rebel forces and their own government. Our country, on the other hand, refuses to take in more refugees because we're afraid of them.<br />
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So I commented. I was the first comment on that post. I said, "Would you consider making a $1 donation to the Syrian refugee crisis for every person who made this recipe and tagged MB on Facebook and Instagram?" I asked my friend Jamison (who is a vegan and likes Minimalist Baker) to comment and back me up, which he did. A few other people commented negatively, and a few others positively. I wasn't really worried about that, but I wanted to see that the writers of Minimalist Baker would say. And I wanted people who might see the comment (hopefully thousands of them) to remember that there is actually still a Syrian civil war going on.<br />
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Minimalist Baker didn't say anything to my comment. I waited excitedly to see if I had sparked some change and maybe started a successful fundraiser for a good cause, but then a few days later, to my astonishment I saw that they had deleted my comment. They left the other comments in response to mine (as of when I last checked) which sort of makes it look like I deleted my own comment. Nope I did not. They did.<br />
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Then I thought, Ew. I really don't like these people. If they can't even entertain a suggestion that would help the world, then they don't seem very kind or thoughtful. They also didn't want to have any suggestion whatsoever on their shiny perfect blog that they were culturally appropriating another country's dish or that they themselves weren't perfect. Disappointing.<br />
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And if you're wondering why it matters, it does. Food bloggers make a lot of money somehow (internet money is confusing to me, but I know this to be true) and MB has like a million followers on Instagram. They have a platform to do good and instead, they just continue to make money for themselves and post pretty pictures on Instagram.<br />
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I was simultaneously judging the writers of Minimalist Baker, judging myself for judging them on the basis of their internet personas and for caring at all, and increasingly just disgusted. And I was like, SHEESH why do I care so much about what random people are doing on the internet?<br />
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So right then and there, I quit food blogs. I realized a lot of food bloggers/internet personas do the kind of reality-altering-to-make-themselves-look-good that Minimalist Baker did. And I think it's really mentally unhealthy to surround myself with that. As I thought about it, I realized I also wanted to give myself the opportunity to be more present in my own reality and less addicted to someone else's life.<br />
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So I stopped reading them. I unsubscribed from newsletter updates, I deleted my search history on my phone and laptop, and I just stopped. I knew I still needed a bit of escapism - because we all do - so I went to the library and took out cookbooks (because I genuinely enjoy reading about food) and a bunch of go-to favorite book (mysteries and historical fiction are my favorite genres).<br />
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The first few days were easy, the next few were kinda hard, and then after that it felt delightfully refreshingly freeing. I felt much more clear-minded. I still distracted myself on the internet occasionally, but it wasn't with the same voracious intensity as previously. I realized that it made no difference to my difficult days when I went on the internet, and actually, reading blogs made it harder because it just depressed me more.<br />
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I've been replacing food blogs with some non-addicting uplifting things. Some of these I practiced before (especially reading and exploring the city of York) but now I try to do them with more intention. I also try to practice them even if I'm feeling anxious/upset for whatever reason and not giving myself a cop-out. Here's my ever-growing list:<br />
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-exploring York<br />
-reading (a lot more!)<br />
-crocheting<br />
-practicing piano<br />
-cooking slowly and methodically with pleasure<br />
-doing Zumba classes online (which seems silly but I always forget how great and FREE online workout classes are)<br />
-going to classes in person (I found an awesome, cheap class that I love!)<br />
-visiting people from church in a social non-work capacity<br />
-Taking a super long walk in the sunshine (!!! it exists!!) along the River Ouse<br />
-Reading a cookbook<br />
-<a href="http://kriscarr.com/" target="_blank">Kris Carr's</a> post about <a href="http://kriscarr.com/blog/how-to-overcome-criticism/?utm_campaign=weekly-blog&utm_medium=email&utm_source=email-broadcast&utm_content=nl-021918&utm_term=existing-list" target="_blank">what other people think of you - and how not to care!</a><br />
-<a href="https://gretchenrubin.com/" target="_blank">Gretchen Rubin</a>'s website, blog, daily emails, and books. I love her!<br />
This quote:<br />
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-meandering through bookshops and reading bits and pieces of books<br />
-Watching spring slowly come to the beautiful city of York and seeing snowdrops and crocuses<br />
-This awesome postcard I saw in Oxfam:<br />
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-journaling and writing<br />
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I promised myself I would quit food blogs for three weeks (the time it takes to break a habit) and then see if I could read them restrainedly. After more than three weeks, I decided (with intent) to check my favorite, called <a href="https://www.gimmesomeoven.com/" target="_blank">Gimme Some Oven</a>. I think she's a positive, upbeat, socially conscious writer and she's also an expat so I like her views on living abroad. It was also a test for myself to see if I would get re-addicted. So far, so good, but I'm still going to make sure I don't fall into my escapism trap.<br />
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I decided that for now, I'll check that one and two other positive food-only blogs once per week for recipe ideas - it's helpful for healthy meal planning and I think everything is OK in moderation. But I'll keep an eye on how much I'm reading them this time and make sure it's only every once in a while for an actual purpose. I don't want to slip into the habit of using blogs as escapism anymore. I want to give myself the chance to live in my own reality, hard and frustrating as it is - because the good times are there just as much, and I want to be present for those.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09965226466138275329noreply@blogger.com0