These past two weeks, I have been with the two-year-olds and one-year-olds. Both ages were super adorable. The only real downside of transitioning to these younger ages is the reality of bathroom accidents, increased amounts of crying, and getting sick. I did not let it scare me, though; this is nothing I have not seen before. One two-year-old particularly liked me, and one of the teachers taught him how to say “I love you” in English. After he learned that, he would run over to me, say “I love you!” and then run away again. It was precious. Because these age groups take a nap after lunch, the teachers allowed me to visit other classes during the nap. The first class I revisited was the three-year-olds. They were VERY excited that I briefly came to play with them and made me into a human tower. The teachers are incredibly friendly. I have felt appreciated here, and many of them practice their English with me and help with my Japanese.

There was an earthquake drill when I was with the two-year-old class. It was similar to the U.S. in that the children got under their tables to shield their heads. What made it different was that every teacher was supplied with a helmet (including me), and their job was to make sure no kids exposed their head or neck from under the tables. The one-year-olds were precious. During my time with them, there was an assembly, and a lady did a puppet show. The show was cute, and I was able to understand the gist of it. However, during the puppet show, our jobs were more chaos control, ensuring the one-year-olds didn’t run off or become too fussy. 

Music therapy with both age groups went great! The two-year-olds did have challenges with attention skills. However, the room they had me do the session in was the gym, so the children associate that room with being able to run around like crazy. Other than that, they loved playing with the scarves and shakers. I translated finger play songs into Japanese to target fine motor skills and adjusted the hello song to fit their developmental stage. With the one-year-olds, I tried an age-appropriate freeze dance song. They decently grasped it and thought it was hilarious when I froze. 

I got interviewed for the newspaper this week. My host grandma from my previous post was interviewed for her work hosting foreigners, and learned about what I am doing in Japan and wanted to interview me too! He came by the nursery, observed my session with the two-year-olds, and asked questions. I do not know when the article will be published, but I am excited to see it. It made me feel important! 

These past two weeks were the first time I started getting complimented on my Japanese. That was very exciting because it means I am improving, AND it’s noticeable!

Over the weekend, my host family took me to the arcade. It was so cheap! Every game and claw machine, no matter what, was only 100 yen. That is only 66 cents in USD. I had a blast for less than $10. I also called my friends and family a lot to talk. That was nice. I usually call my loved ones regularly, but the time spent talking was higher than normal over this weekend, and it was rejuvenating. The following weekend, I went to experience a Japanese festival! This festival was to worship and pray to a god of fertility. Many people were there despite it raining the entire time. There were many themes of wishing people luck in having children and hopes for their children’s futures. I went with an English student of Naoko’s. It was nice of her to find someone to go with me. The festival ended up being so much fun! I ate great food; there were so many food stalls! It ended with a huge parade in honor of the god. I also got souvenirs for me and my friends! I love being able to experience local Japanese culture.

“We built, and we tried, and we learned. I think if you think about the fact that only 25 years ago this place was burnt to the ground and destroyed, and if you come to see what it is now, you don’t need to talk about the progress, it’s right there, it’s in your face, you see it.” -Interview Participant

Progress is often challenging to recognize, especially when striving towards something greater. When we focus on our aspirations—on where we hope to be—it can be hard to acknowledge the steps we’ve already taken. We see the distance that remains rather than the ground we’ve covered. While it is vital to keep looking forward, it is equally important to reflect on how far we have come.

Kosovo is no exception. As I began interviewing my first participants, I noticed various perspectives on the country’s progress. Some emphasized the challenges ahead, while others spoke with pride about how much has been accomplished in such a short time. What struck me most about the quote above is its assertion that progress in Kosovo is not just something to be discussed—it is something you see, something you experience. It is woven into everyday life. It’s in the bustling streets right before Iftar, in the kids walking to school early in the morning, and in the new coffee shops opening on every corner. Too often, we think of progress as something monumental, a stark contrast between past and present. But in reality, progress is usually found in the small, steady changes that accumulate over time. What makes Kosovo’s transformation so remarkable is that it is both. It is the rebuilding of a nation from ruins, but it is also the quiet, persistent steps forward—conversations that spark change, communities that grow stronger, and a generation that refuses to be defined by the past.

As I continue gathering interviews and insights, I am also entering the creative phase of this project, considering how these stories can be brought to life visually for those who will experience the exhibition. This process is anything but linear. Each new perspective challenges my initial ideas, forcing me to rethink and refine. And I love that. I love the moment when an idea is completely scrapped because it means something better is on the horizon. Progress, after all, is not just about moving forward—it’s about being willing to adapt, to start over, and to create something stronger than before.

A tectonic shift has occurred at Fighting Words NI since my last blog post. As you may remember, our workshop and office space is located in a shopping centre called Connswater. On Friday, March 7th, we received news that the shopping centre would be closing in 2 weeks and that we would need to be fully evacuated from the building by that time. This was obviously a huge shock for all of us, and a difficult reality to come to terms with. My colleagues have put so much time, care, and effort into making Connswater a welcoming and safe space for children. There’s the sensory space for neurodivergent students who need a break during workshops, the green Author Chair where children proudly share their writing with their peers, the light-up bookshelves decorated with no shortage of eclectic knick knacks, the antique door painted Fighting Words blue and adorned with a magical lion knocker. It’s a quirky space, full of life and memories. It’s integral to our identity as an organization, and it’s the only iteration of Fighting Words that I’ve ever known. 

The Monday after the announcement was made, it was Fighting Words’s 10th birthday. We ate birthday cake and laughed wryly at the morbidity of our situation. I think we all implicitly understood that there was no time or space to feel sorry for ourselves, so our first meeting was full of dark humor, self-compassion, matter-of-fact problem solving, and calm positivity. It is a tragedy to be thrown unceremoniously out of your home with only two weeks’ notice. There’s no doubt about that. But the indomitable spirit of Fighting Words has allowed us to adapt to these circumstances and we are committed and confident in our ability to continue to serve young writers in our community. This new chapter will surely bring changes in our program delivery, our work routine, and our practices going forward. However, we have been a whirlwind of action these past two weeks and we are ready to transition into this new era. Fighting Words fights on! 

March has been full of good chaos, packed schedules, and joyous experiences. In the past two weeks, I’ve hosted multiple guests from out of town, presented my Lumos project to the Belmont Honors cohort, celebrated my first Irish St. Paddy’s Day, enjoyed cooking new recipes from my Hello Fresh trial subscription, and basically have not stopped running around for 14 days straight. My laundry is piling up, I’m 10 days behind on my daily journal, and I can’t remember the last time I went to bed before midnight. All that being said, I’m happy as a clam! I thrive in busyness, and as I have matured, I have learned to distinguish between busyness for busyness’s sake and the busyness that comes from having lots of wonderful and important things that I genuinely want to dedicate my time to. This past weekend was a particular highlight, as my friend Elisabeth was visiting. We spent all of Saturday with our friend Adam, and because Adam and Elisabeth have both lived in Belfast at some point, we didn’t feel the need to spend the day hitting all the iconic Belfast spots and landmarks. Instead, we were able to enjoy the simple pleasures that come with living here: sipping matcha at a small cafe, making music together at Adam’s flat, dipping into charity shops when something caught our eye, wolfing down bean and cheese chips from the nearby chippy, and sharing our favorite songs and a Shamrock Shake on a windy night drive through the countryside. 

On Monday, the fun continued with a full day of St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Nothing makes me more sentimental than seeing a whole city come together to celebrate and be cheerful. Elisabeth ran the Spar Craic 10k in the morning, and I waited to cheer for her at the finish line. The man next to me was reading the names of the runners on their race bibs and yelling words of encouragement to them as they completed the final dash to the end. “Let’s go, Finnoula! You’ve got this, Geoff!” he shouted. As I watched someone in a full leprechaun onesie (complete with a green top hat) run past me, I felt a little bit of hope restored in me regarding the human capacity for (and tendency towards) goodness. There are a lot of disheartening and downright evil things happening in the world right now, but these pockets of whimsical positivity and kindness keep me from despair. All day long, I witnessed outlandish green outfits, friendly chats between strangers, carefree dancing, lilting live music, and a general agreement that for one day, we could pause our lives and collectively participate in something purely because it’s fun. There’s little utility or gain from a day of celebration, but our delight in frivolity is part of what makes being a human so special. As I looked around the table at my friends, I was acutely aware that I will cherish this day in my memory, and that I will miss Belfast dearly when my time here comes to a close. 

Since my last post, Japan has started to feel like another home. I have never lived anywhere for an extremely long time, so I am used to adjusting to new places as my temporary home. I thought it would be much harder to do that in a different country, living with a host family I didn’t know before coming here, but after the initial culture shock and nerves, I settled right in. My volunteering schedule has gotten into a nice groove. I work with a different age group every week, get to know them, plan for a music therapy session with them, and then at the end of the week we do a large group music therapy session. It has been a comforting routine because it allows me to take a few days to prepare for my sessions. Extra session planning time is needed here because I have to translate my entire session which turns into me outlining a script and then practicing how to communicate and sing in the Japanese language so that it is seamless during the actual session. 

I was with the four and three-year-olds for the past two weeks. The four-year-olds enjoyed playing with me. They seemed interested in just observing me as a person. I almost felt like a foreign creature. They were rowdy at one point so I decided that encouraging them to color with me would help give me time to catch my breath. What ended up happening was that I colored while the kids watched and handed me colored pencils they thought I might want. It was hilarious. Some did end up coloring and giving me their artwork as a very sweet gift. The three-year-olds were very rambunctious. I was constantly on my toes. They were fascinated with my hair and played with it every day, which I did not mind! One three-year-old even spoke English! The week I was with the four-year-olds the school was playing “shop”. Each classroom was a different store and sold various goods that were crafted by all the classes. Each class took turns being a shop and being a shopper. They had little paper money and would exchange it for the fun crafts made by the other children. It was adorable. The store goods included pretend lollipops and candy, spinning top toys made out of paper plates and bottle caps, superhero capes made out of old fabric, and paper headbands with popular Japanese characters like Hello Kitty and Pikachu. The school did an intruder drill that same week. It scared the crap out of me! Instead of just announcing that there was an intruder, they had a teacher dress up as an intruder and run into the classrooms while screaming. The teachers had to quickly push her out of the room and lock the doors while all of the children instinctively hid under their desks. I was standing there after that jumpscare and like a character in a sitcom I slowly made my way to the floor to match the actions of everybody else. It was quite hilarious.

My first music therapy sessions were a huge hit! I was honestly quite impressed with how well the children were able to follow instructions despite my broken Japanese and their age group. From my observation, Japan does a great job of introducing structure and behavioral expectations to children starting at just one year old. Not that the school is strict or harsh with the children, but it’s small actions that add up that make a difference, such as switching their shoes as soon as they come into the building and helping to serve lunch. Getting back to music therapy though, the children had a great time singing, playing with rhythm sticks, egg shakers and scarves, and dancing. I translated my songs into Japanese and had a script to follow to maximize the outcome for the children. I used a song to ask them questions about the day, month, and season which they understood and responded with enthusiasm. I worked on nonverbal communication through the rhythm sticks, encouraging them to follow my movements despite not speaking or singing, and encouraged them to interact with their peers (safely of course). The scarves allowed them to have some free dance time, but it was also used to work on receptive communication because they had to listen to the guitar for their dance cues. I also translated and memorized the hokey pokey in Japanese to work on coordination and learning left vs right. That was a fun challenge! It was beautiful watching how the power of the music transcended language in places where I needed it to. The joy of the children was contagious and the staff was truly grateful and impressed with my work. I missed working with groups of children. The four-year-old class was so grateful for me spending the week with them and doing music therapy that they made me the cutest thank you sign. It meant the world to me. 

I went to Okazaki for the weekend and stayed with a different host family. It almost felt like going to grandma’s house. I left the home with siblings and busy schedules and went to a house where the kids are grown and have moved out. I got spoiled and fed more food than I could eat, and then I went home at the end of the weekend. My temporary host mom (or host grandma) was very very sweet and an excellent cook. I taught her husband how to play gin rummy with their Ohio State playing cards they got from a previous host child. The reason I stayed out of town for the weekend was that Naoko had invited me to see a pottery exhibition for a previous United Planet volunteer who ended up moving to Japan to pursue pottery. He was very kind, it was nice to talk to an American. The exhibition was in Tokoname so I got to explore the area. It was very cute, definitely a hidden gem. Thankfully it wasn’t too cold that day. Before I left Tokoname, my host grandma took me to the mall. I didn’t do much shopping and spent under $10, but I had a great time. They had an entire store of only gacha machines. I walked through the entire store before deciding which machine I was going to try my luck with. I ended up getting a little cat dressed in a pineapple! The following weekend I went to see my host brother, Souta, play basketball. He was the smallest one on the team, but he did great. Life here moves slowly. It is causing me to be more present and relaxed. I do not know what is making life feel like this, but I appreciate the slowness.

I leaned against the wall outside Ounce Coffee on March 14th, the sunlight bright and flat upon the brick, as I surveyed the Friday morning crowd in the thriving suburb of Westbourne, Dorset. I was meeting up with my friend Sam, a fellow Belmont grad, who plays the drums in a touring band that just so happened to have a show in Bournemouth. I decided to take him to my favorite coffee shop and walk down to the beach, a mile walk that passed through the Alum Chine gardens, a paved path through an enclosure of pine trees, palm trees, and a vast network of shrubbery. As we got coffee and made our way to the path, Sam kept repeating how beautiful Bournemouth was and how it might be his new favorite city in England. “Liz,” he exclaimed, “This is just like a movie!” As we entered the Alum Chine gardens path, Sam fell silent and stared around in awe at the canopy of trees and greens that surrounded us. What seemed like a relatively normal path through the forest to me was a sight of pure astonishment to Sam, and I realized then how little I give Bournemouth credit for; it is, truly, a town rich with natural beauty. 

Sam and I are both, to varying degrees, traveling musicians. He is literally a paid musician in a touring band, and I am a charity manager and musician who is, in a long-term and more stationary sense, traveling. He understands what it’s like to grow up in the Midwest and move to Nashville as a musician, but he also knows how it feels to be an American working in the United Kingdom. Having someone who can bridge these worlds has been grounding and comforting in ways I didn’t expect. As the sea came into view and the sunshine poured down on us, I was struck by the rarity of it all: two Belmont University graduates from the Midwest are walking on the beach in Bournemouth, England, a city we both ended up in through a strange twist of fate and a lot of hard work. Cosmic alignments such as these don’t occur often, and I felt so proud of us both for all that went into making this moment happen.

Sam and I in Bournemouth!

My gratitude for Belmont and the friends I’ve made there carry into my work: I had my second-to-last songwriting workshop last week, and so many of my teaching tactics are pulled from my songwriting professors. Each group finished writing and recording a demo of their song, and my words of advice echo those I’ve heard from peers and professors at Belmont. Next week we’ll listen to everyone’s song and give feedback, and I’m so excited to listen and reflect on the experience as a whole. I can see that the kids light up and feel empowered when they have the freedom to create something entirely their own, and it is a joy to witness and facilitate that. That day marked six full months of me living in Bournemouth, and I got to end the night by playing my second full-band show and first headliner show in England. I’m so grateful and proud that I’ve been able to take my love for songwriting from Nashville all the way to Bournemouth, and I’m excited to see where it goes next. 

Beautiful Bournemouth beach!

Love,

Elisabeth

I am someone who likes to be prepared. I do my research beforehand, I come in with a plan A, plan B, and sometimes even a plan C. So entering this next chapter in my life was no different. Before leaving for my trip, I wanted to learn what information was already out there on the story I wanted to share. So, I scoured the library’s databases for peer-reviewed, academic journals that highlighted areas of interest for my exhibition. I delved into research on resilience and post-traumatic growth in Kosovo, the educational success of college students, debates surrounding political recognition, photographic practices during the war, and the significance of local sculptures. Like I said, I like to be prepared. However, I made it my goal to throw all of it out the window the second I got to Kosovo. 

Research is invaluable, but it rarely tells the whole story. While I wanted to be prepared, I did not want to go into this experience thinking I already understood Kosovo and its people. So I made it my priority in my first month to strictly observe. I prioritized building relationships with locals, hearing their lived experiences, and immersing myself in the narratives they are already telling. I’ve engaged in meaningful conversations with trusted community members, visited exhibitions by Kosovar artists, and read both fiction and historical accounts that offer cultural insights beyond data points and analysis. Through this process, I have refined my approach, identifying the themes that need deeper exploration through formal interviews and recognizing where my exhibition can add to the broader conversation.

The exhibitions I’ve visited here have been powerful and deeply moving, each dedicated to preserving the memory of the war. While they were all incredible, I wish to highlight two of them. Reporting House commemorates the 25th anniversary of the war, showcasing the media coverage in Kosovo during the conflict. 36 Hours was a particularly impactful installation, depicting the Night of Fires—the tragic event on March 5–7, 1998, that marked the beginning of the Kosovo War and saw the loss of 59 members of the Jashari family (a commander in the Kosovo Liberation Army) at the hands of the Serbian Army. These exhibitions have been profoundly inspiring, illustrating not only the hardship endured but also the incredible resilience of a nation that has rebuilt itself in just over two decades.

However, in nearly every exhibition I’ve encountered, the focus remains on the past—on the pain, the war, and the struggle for recognition. These stories are essential, but they are not the only stories Kosovo has to tell. As I transition into the next phase of my project, I want to shift the focus forward. My exhibition will highlight the people of today—the students, artists, entrepreneurs, and leaders shaping Kosovo’s future. It will celebrate progress, hope, and the vision of a country that refuses to be defined solely by its past. Because while history must never be forgotten, the future is still being written.

The first week of February marked the beginning of the end (of the book, that is). Over 7 months later, it was complete by mid-February! The portion of my job that fell under “editor” had lapsed by this point, and I was proud to complete my first book! A lot has happened in these 7 months. I learned so much about bookmaking, but mostly about the life-changing work of New Hope Girls. I’m so honored to be a part of the team of encouragers and helpers who made this book come to life and find its audience.

The trickiness here was how scrappy it was in the beginning. Joy wrote many of these untitled documents to process and not forget major events from her 20+ years in the DR doing this life-giving work of rescue and education. Many of the stories were written as a potential blog post. Little did Joy know the lifespan of these short documentations and how they would ultimately grow into chapters for her book.

Everything changed last year when Joy said she felt the Lord nudge her to dedicate 2024 to writing and painting. In February 2024, she set aside the month to write and collect these journals and untitled documents into digital files. This was her first draft.

When we began in July, Joy and I dug through the untitled pages in her Apple account. Eagerly reading through documents titled “untitled 67,” “SOLLLLLLL,” and “scabie cream,” we eventually organized her files into different parts and converted them to Google Docs so we could organize them into sections. We began with 7 sections with various titles, and over 80,000 words of raw material to work with.

After organizing it, I spent the next week reading the manuscript while onboarding as Joy’s assistant as well. Within the week, I met over 30 girls involved in the organization, moved into a home with 4 of them, was onboarded as Joy’s assistant, and was handed 80,000 words of raw material that I was tasked to transform into a real-life book, bound and ready to sell to thousands of people for New Hope Girls conference series partnership with Extraordinary Women Ministries. This six-city tour would double as Joy’s book tour.

All in 9 months. No pressure!

In July and August, my job was focused on all of these 30 little girls I met. The other interns organized games, pool parties, birthdays, and more. I attended when I wasn’t assisting Joy in Santiago. In this time, I applied my first round of edits to the manuscript.

New Hope was changing, and Joy was in meeting after meeting trying to find the right people to carry with her into this new season. Over these two months, it became obvious that Joy needed to 1) launch a personal brand as a speaker and author, 2) hire a US director in the States, and 3) hire a production director in the DR.

By September, all positions were filled, and Joy hired Derek to serve as the publishing, production, and marketing consultant to lead Joy’s team [me (editorial/executive assistant and proofreader), Helina (events, marketing, social media), Isaac (creator of the docuseries and head of media), Jeri (US Director)]. He brought it all together!

Every work day, I reported to Derek and Joy. Together, and with his guidance, we successfully developed an editing system. Derek edited first, then Joy, then me. Every week during our meeting, I served as the ‘scribe’ of sorts and we worked through the book, chapter by chapter. We did two rounds of this for the developmental stage (before Christmas) and the copyediting stage (after Christmas).

This was my favorite process! I loved the homework each week to read and edit the book, and as a bonus, during our weekly production meetings, I saw glimpses of what our media and marketing team members did to set the scene for the book to thrive by our publication date on March 8, 2025. By February 1, it was my time to proofread the book. Throughout the copyediting process, I collected and cataloged name changes, release form information, endorsements, style decisions, common misspellings, etc. This was my proofreading guidebook, which I applied in my last weeks as an editor of I Am Joy by Joy M. Reyes. Now, it’s in the hands of hundreds of people.

I feel very proud of all that a book can contextualize. Without the book, there’s no solid ground for Joy’s platform to stand on. She’s a spokesperson, a liaison between the dark reality of all those left unrescued and the bright future for those girls if others join in the fight. Over the years, Joy has been so modest about all she has accomplished in the name of rescue. She’s doing the Lord’s work:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” (Matthew 25:35).

This is “life that is truly life” (2 Timothy 6:19).

Thank you Joy sharing your story, thank you to you and your family for dedicating their lives to rescuing girls.

There’s a creepy path by my apartment building. It exists under an overpass, enclosed by claustrophobic metal gates, punctuated by odd little alcoves that seem to only exist as trash receptacles for careless litterers. Ordinary objects become haunting when they lie strewn under an overpass: an earless stuffed animal, a dirt-matted fleece, mysteriously warped traffic cones, half-eaten packets of crisps. Even though it looks like the set of an apocalyptic movie, and most would probably avoid it, I am fascinated by it. Each time I walk through, I’m excited to see what unsettling items might have been added to (or subtracted from) the collection. The other day, I had the thought that random details of my life here, like the creepy alley or the smell of my kitchen, are the details I don’t want to forget when I leave Belfast. Now that I’m over halfway done with my time here, I’m feeling sentimental about my rituals and routines. They are signifiers of this era, and I’m trying to maintain awareness and log the details so I can revisit them in my memory.

There has been plenty of variety in my work routine lately, which has kept me on my toes. We’ve been doing lots of offsite workshops, which means I get to explore new parts of Northern Ireland and meet a wider range of young authors. I really enjoyed a workshop we did recently with a girls’ college. I was nervous about how the dynamic might be different because they were older than the students we normally work with, but they brought so much humor and enthusiasm into the workshop. They had fun brainstorming silly ideas together and got really into writing the collaborative story. It had been a while since I last led storymaking, but this was a great group to jump back in with. As a bonus, it was also a sunny day, and I felt so rejuvenated on the bright road back from the workshop. Even though I’ve done a million workshops with the same format by this point, every group brings originality and freshness to the creative writing process. I don’t think it could ever get old!

Life has been busy busy, but here are some quick highlights. As sunlight has made its spring return with the turning of March, I have been taking lots of photos, with a special interest in shadows, reflections,  refractions, and all dimensions of light. One of my favorites is of a stained glass window’s wavy shadow. I’ve been finding relaxation in creativity: writing notes app poetry, singing with friends, discovering exciting new outfit combinations within my limited wardrobe, watching movies critically and carefully crafting reviews for my 7 Letterboxd followers to enjoy, and making elaborate packed lunches with plentiful colors and flavors. I’ve had lots of good social time, which gives me an excuse to try delicious and overpriced new treats like Slabz sandwiches and Black Sheep pistachio lattes. My friend Liz was in town over the weekend, and we had fun hiking, trying new spots, playing bingo, laughing lots, and catching up with mutual friends from Belmont. This upcoming weekend, my Aunt Heather will be in town, so the hosting fun continues!

“I’m sitting in the grounds of Winchester Cathedral, and I’m reminded of why I love England. The sun is out and the sky is blue for the first time in what feels like forever, and it’s a public celebration — throngs of people are out on their afternoon stroll, talking to friends and soaking in the sunlight — this is the Mecca of England. I’m leaning against some ancient monument (who it’s honoring, I don’t know), but I pay respects by propping my feet up on its base, a coffee and croissant by my side. I love this view: the cathedral tall and proud, the grass so green, and the sky is so blue!!! What a joy, these little things that make all the difference.”
        – February 19th journal entry

The sun has returned to England, and that has made all the difference. Seasonal depression and slow days spent alone made January the longest month of my life, but February has swept by, and I’m starting March feeling optimistic about life. 

The sun outside Winchester Cathedral

I’ve led more workshops in the last two weeks than at any other point during my time here! To start was my third songwriting workshop with a secondary school in Poole, and this week my students started writing their songs. I was a bit fearful that the kids would struggle with the prompt or get distracted, but most of them rose to the challenge and have a promising song in the works. One is about heartbreak and one is about a traditional Polish dish known colloquially as meat jelly, so we’re not short on variety. One student proclaimed with excitement that her song was better than she expected, and it brought me such joy to see them enjoying the process and to witness their ideas sparking. This class has been such a unique experience for them and for myself, and I’m excited to hear the finished songs and to reflect on the course as a whole. 

We also had our first two paid workshops that were sponsored by the council (our local government). These were two full days in schools where we delivered a two hour workshop to two groups of sixty kids. I was in charge of organising everything and running the workshops as neither Dee nor Tom could make it, so for perhaps the first time in my life, I was the designated adult. Scary. Despite facing several new variables, both days went smoothly, and the response from the students and teachers was so validating. Kids left comments on their feedback sheets like “I learnt that I have a wonderful imagination” and “It encouraged me to be brave and enjoy writing a story of my own and being brave to read out my story.” I’m so grateful to LUMOS for enabling me to do work that I both love and actively improves the lives of others. In no other context would I be the manager of a charity; it’s not something I take for granted. 

Workshop team!

My social life has also been quite busy. I started attending a new weekly jam night with a few of our student volunteers, went to a jazz night and a writer’s group with some other volunteers, and attended my first-ever Premier League football game with Dee (Brighton vs Southampton — Southampton lost 4-0). The charity volunteer base has been a great source of friendship for me lately, and I’m grateful that I work so closely with a university. 

Southampton vs Brighton!

Some doodles a friend made from jam night

I’ve got a busy month ahead of me, and before I know it, I’ll be back in the States! My time here has gone by so quickly, and it makes me sad that the friends and habits that have become my everyday life will soon be foreign to me. But I’m grateful to have people and memories that make goodbyes hard.

With love,

Elisabeth 

This post is going to be weird. I adore my host family’s bathrooms! Their toilet seat is heated! The toilet has an entire control panel on the wall with three different bidet settings, all with different strengths. You can also adjust the heat of the bidet water and toilet seat. I also have enjoyed the Japanese style of bathing. They have a shower room with a tub. Unlike American bathrooms where you stand in the tub with the shower head above you, Japanese shower rooms have two-level hooks for the shower head next to the tub with a mirror. They let the tub fill and heat up while doing other tasks. You know when the tub is ready because a panel in the kitchen plays a cute song to alert you the tub is full and ready at 40 degrees Celsius. They keep the tub covered during the shower so nothing gets in. You shower first and ensure you are squeaky clean, and once you are clean you soak in the bath. Because the water heats itself and continues to heat up so that it doesn’t get cold, and everybody gets in clean, a single bathtub of water is shared between the entire family. It is very relaxing, like a hot tub but without the chlorine. I greatly enjoy this arrangement, but I know some Americans feel uncomfortable sharing bathwater with others. If you are an American who is uncomfortable sharing bathwater, do not go to an onsen/the hot springs if you visit Japan.