Everyone and Everywhere Has a Story

What do two British hikers ask when they unexpectantly meet an American, that would be me, roaming the 73-mile crumbling wall between England and Scotland? First, they ask which state I’m from. “Georgia!” they squeal in unison. Georgia is one of the states they know, while adding the inaccurate, yet innocent, assumption, “Oh, you live in the gulf!” I didn’t have the heart to tell them how far Atlanta is from the gulf. Next, they asked what brought me to Hadrian’s Wall, the historic border built by the Romans in AD 122.

There is much to miss from my six-weeks in the U.K.: crumpets and lemon curd, riding the tube, seventy-degree weather in July, hearing sheep in the morning, drinking tea in tidy gardens, cozy pubs, cities with rich history, cathedrals older than my country, untainted countryside, and friendly chatty people. I do not miss stinging nettles, sheep in the road, sheep droppings on the trails, mysterious meat considered to be bacon, roundabouts, and British appliances. They’re tiny!

While traveling to Great Britain is one of the easiest trips abroad one can take, primarily due to language, it is the language itself that is most impressionable. I adore a British accent, especially when asked if my children would like an ice lollie. Turns out an ice lollie is a popsicle. An order of fish and chips is fried cod and French fries. For biscuits and tea, expect cookies alongside a teapot. Other amusing words: finger rolls (hot dog buns), bumbles (bees), and trainers (sneakers) . One can manage these little discrepancies, except when it comes to the scarcity of ice. One pub waiter, hearing our American accents, offered to bring the table some ice. Turns out some ice is one cube of ice per person. We took what we could get.

I thought the inquisitive hikers would be disappointed with my answer as to why I was there. For what could possibly be interesting about wanting to get away from work, traffic, and schedules? Yet, it was our conversation about our different lives in different parts of the world that connected us to one another. We were different yet the same- family, work, goals, struggles.

Our conversation ended with a friendly parting and well wishes for England’s match in the World Cup later in the evening. Back at our rental, I thumbed through a travelers’ chronicles and read an excerpt so fitting for the moment I’ll never forget it: “the past is all around us, in the buildings, in the landscape, in the ground we walk on. It’s not in a list of monarchs or dates of battles that it truly comes alive; its in the people and places. Everyone and everywhere has a story.” Charlie Connelly, And Did Those Feet