In life, there are always the opportunities you take, and the ones you regret not taking for days, or even weeks, after. I’ve found myself always experiencing the latter: I constantly see opportunities rise in front of me, but by the time I’ve gathered enough courage to reach out and take them, they slip away like sand through my fingers. Part of why I wanted to do LITA was because I knew it would push me out of my comfort zone. I knew I would be anxious around the new people, culture, and language, but I also trusted myself to have the strength to persevere. However, I found myself disappointed when on one of the first days during a gymkhana (scavenger hunt) my voice failed me as I tried to approach locals to ask for directions and the answers to the bonus questions on my list.
After wandering around for nearly an hour in the heat of midsummer Spain, each of us too shy to ask a local for help, my team and I decided to enter a pescaderia (fish store) to try and answer a few of the questions about seafood, a staple in Galicia. We entered the store, a tiny roadside shop with beds of ice where fish should have lain. But even with the overwhelming smell of seafood, only a few small fish sat scattered on the ice. My attention was immediately drawn to a woman in the corner, her face surrounded by ringlets just like mine. When she smiled at me I smiled right back, feeling for the first time a drop of courage.
Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my words tumbling out of me, explaining that we were part of a small group of American students who were here to learn about Spain. While the two other kids in my group stayed back, I continued my shaky introduction, and asked if she could help us answer a few questions for our scavenger hunt. Immense relief washed over me as she agreed, even letting us borrow her pen to write down notes. I felt my confidence growing with each question, my Spanish becoming smoother and faster. We were nearing the end of the list until a truck pulled up outside, ready to collect an order of fish.
The moment disappeared, and the woman started scrambling to change over the crates of fish to bring outside. We only had 15 minutes to get back to the meeting point, and we were just a few questions away from the end. Disappointment pooled in my stomach—if I had just gathered the courage earlier, we would have been done by now. But as I felt what had been a wonderful opportunity slip away, for the first time in my life, I reached out and yanked it back.
Without even thinking, I blurted out “¿Te ayudo?”, offering my help to load the order. And instead of shooing me away like I had expected, she simply pointed at a box of gloves. For just a heartbeat, I had a feeling that this moment changed something in me. I couldn’t help but think that this was something that would have never happened at a typical shop in America. My hands trembling slightly, I slipped on the gloves and reached right into the pile of fish. While sticking my hands right into a bucket of slimy, dead fish was probably one of the more disgusting experiences of my life, I couldn’t help but giggle a little as I thought about what my mom would say if she knew what I was doing right now. Or, honestly, what Lauren from a week ago would have said. I stopped caring about the scavenger hunt as I helped the woman move the fish into the truck, feeling a stronger connection with this stranger than I had felt with anyone in Spain before, even the other kids in my group. And as she smiled at me again, I decided that pushing past my fear was worth every moment of discomfort.
Many moments from LITA will be with me forever: Rescuing a kitten with my homestay sister, dancing with Maria, the dueña (owner) of a restaurant as Galician music played in the background, the stars in the Pyrenees, even the tour guide I spent hours talking to on a hike. While these moments have long passed, I see the effects of them every day as I continue to push myself so much farther than I ever thought I could go. Not only have I found friends and family for life, I’ve found my voice, and it’s even better in Spanish.
Lauren, North Five Week 2025
