I was invited by my pen-pal (does anyone still use this term?) and his family to come stay with them for the month. I gladly accepted and for a year and a half we planned our trip. This was all done with snail airmail letters because an international telephone call was more expensive than gold in that time period (and no, no email either). I called them the day before I left just to make sure everything was set, and that was the first time I actually talked with him "in-person". So, the next night, off I flew for eight hours to Heathrow, and then had to transfer to British Airways to go to Belfast. A small diversion here: Traveling to Belfast in 1987 was akin to traveling to Yemen today. I was searched, my luggage was THOROUGHLY searched, every canister of film (all 25 of them) was opened and searched (no such thing as digital cameras then), and questioned as to why a single, female traveler was going to Belfast. This was in the midst of one of the worst times of their "Troubles" so, yeah, I guess it did seem kind of suspicious when I look back on it now. It took about two hours to get through the security gate, including a phone call to my host family to confirm I was going to stay with them. But, I digress.
Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament
I finally got to Belfast, met up with my friend, and started my adventure. I'd like to say that it was a perfect friendship that evolved between us, but it wasn't. We really clashed. It was no one's fault really, and I chalk it up now to not understanding one another's backgrounds and cultures at all. He expected me to be submissive and not question anything he said or did (including walking six paces behind him in public at all times), and I, a head-strong, independent American teenager (and a girl yet!) had no problems being assertive and didn't understand the male dominate society that was (and is?) the United Kingdom, and Northern Ireland in specific. The first clue that I wasn't a shrinking violet to him should have been the fact that I flew BY MYSELF from my home to his. At 19. His family, however, was wonderful. His mom and sister were in awe that I had done something like this, and I just didn't get why they thought that. I do now, but again as time went by and I was able to put some mature perspective on the whole situation, I get it now.
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We had planned side trips to England and Norway for two weeks, and it was within those two weeks that any semblance of a friendship was removed. I still didn't get "the male must make all the decisions (including what I eat)" attitude and I started to go off on my own which just made the situation worse. Ok, enough of those details, I don't want to re-live that whole thing again. We flew back to Belfast for my last week, and I mostly hung around his sister. We had a great time, (although escorted by him), and at the end of the week, I flew home. My flight home is a blog in and of itself and a good study on what goes wrong with airports and airplanes, but needless to say, 28 hours later, I was home. In tears, shock, and full of regrets. I've never been able to fully verbalize the whole situation between he and I, and it was a huge lesson to me on how word manipulation and mental games can really mess with a person. I'd love to just casually toss the "we were young and stupid" line in here, and I guess I just did, but it has taken a very, very long time to not have the internal gut-clench every time I think about him. I loved seeing the sights and being in London and Oslo, Bergen, and Oystese, Belfast and Dublin. I had a great time going to the various tourist places (The Giant's Causeway is fantastic!) and being in all that history. But, it's tinged with that regret of losing a friendship. His mother wrote me a letter shortly after I got home and said I was welcome to come back and that she was sorry for any bad feelings that had happened. He didn't write that letter, his mother had to. I wrote her back and thanked her for the letter and tried to explain that it was not her fault, he and I just didn't get along. That's all there was to it. Our cultures were so very different that at that young age there was no way we could see each other's point.
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| Hardinger Fjord, Oystese Norway |
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| Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland |
So, here it is, 25 years later. Even though I know what happened was nothing more than stubbornness and misunderstanding on both our parts, I'm thankful that the adage of "time heals all wounds" is particularly true in my case. And, maybe it should be "time seals all wounds with scars" instead. I wouldn't want to meet with him, even after all this time. I think everyone at some point in their lives, comes across a person that leaves such a mark on them. Hopefully, you only have that happen to you once and you put it away for reference and experience. It's also what shapes us into understanding one another. I learned a very harsh lesson at a young age that not everyone has the same value set I do. It's neither good nor bad, it's just that what I believe is not necessarily what someone else believes. And whether or not I agree with it, it is that person's core belief system that shapes them and I will never be able to change that. Nor should I. And, at that point you either accept it and revel in your differences or reject it and separate. To do anything else causes nothing but misery to both people and will never solve your problems.
