They told me it would be life-changing. They said it would be an amazing experience. But a semester abroad, though it sounds like a dream come true, comes with many challenges.

I know every study abroad experience is different. While some students travel alone, others go with a very large class, accompanied by a professor. In my case, there were eight of us from the same university, no professor, supervisor, or guide.

Fear gripped me as the plane touched down in Manchester. How was I going to survive five months in a foreign land, away from home?

But the honeymoon stage settled in as I saw the wine-colored rooftops, the lush green grass, and the gothic cathedral in the city I would soon call home. Music accompanied every street corner, illuminated by the presence of musicians and performers. Cobblestone streets stretched down every walkway creating a fairy tale-like atmosphere I couldn't get over.

After the first couple days in York, I'd gotten lost several times in the little windy streets crowded with tourists. The sun would set so early I'd be feeling my way through dark alleys, trying to make out street signs and get home before the cold air numbed my toes. When classes began, I found I couldn't speak a word during group discussions. My accent sounded so foreign that after hearing British English all day I'd cringe at the odd sound of my own voice that broke the stream of posh-sounding English.

Loneliness was my closest companion. Because I arrived mid-way through the school year, it was difficult to find friends. But no matter the friends I made, there was a constant reminder that this was not my home.

Not my flag waving in a local park. Not my money passed over the counter. There was a sudden longing for identity and belonging. A realization of the importance of having one's own people, language, country, and home.

Traveling in Europe was incredibly convenient. Shooting across the aged English countryside in a speeding train brought me to realize how very small this place was. In hours, I went from coast to coast, under the English Channel and into France.

But, oh, how many times I got lost, I cannot begin to count.

Darkness enclosed me as my footsteps echoed down wet streets. Too afraid to ask for directions, constantly peering over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. If only I had paid for wifi I wouldn't have had to use a hand map to guide me everywhere. I boarded the wrong trains, got off at the wrong stops, turned down wrong streets and many times stumbled upon beautiful churches, forgotten over the ages and covered with flowers and vines.

Though I lived among the English, I was never one of them, not proper or polite, nor did I appreciate the royal family, which I soon discovered was a capital offense.

But it all proved to be a learning experience. Would I ever have sympathy for immigrants if I never imagined the process of coming into a new country?

Five months in a foreign land produced mixed feelings. A longing to go home that lingered from the time I arrived, but a somber notion that I wouldn't be there forever, and very soon would leave and not likely return. But life abroad granted me a long period of time to ponder and reflect the ways of those unlike me. It broadened my worldview, humbled my perspective of world power, and taught me to appreciate my home country. I wouldn't trade that enlightenment for anything.