On the walk home from practice one night, a teammate was telling me, “You know, your country gets a bad rep. When I went traveling and stayed in hostels, I befriended a lot of Americans and most of them who I met were really friendly and…”

I interject, “warm?”

“Yea.”

“You know,” I explain, “what most people don’t realize is that we’re the golden retriever of nationalities. Kinda big, dumb, occasionally getting into mischief, but all in all really friendly and sweet, albeit a bit misunderstood at times.”

I like to think of myself as a cultural ambassador.

In happier news, my ass is flying home. I have to spend Christmas Day in Heathrow but, I am getting home. No matter how hard I try to assimilate into this life in the UK, I know I will never fully be able to—especially if it would ever entail missing out on Christmas at home.

Working on my stats assignment tonight because I have a rugby game tomorrow that is like four hours away. Looking at my week, I'm realizing my life revolves around school work, rugby, and pretty soon acting as social chair for my college. No wonder why I'm excited about the prospect of staying here for an extra year.