Last year, I was searching for writing contests to enter as part of acreative-writing class assignment. I happened upon a nonprofit organization called The YoungAuthors Foundation that publishes a magazine written by and for teens. I had not been browsingtheir web site for long before I happened upon their elite London Writing Program. I filled out anapplication and asked two teachers for the required recommendations. Telling myself I had no hopeof getting in, I promptly forgot about it.

Some time later, I got a phone call from thepublisher of the magazine. He talked for a full ten minutes about the great opportunities theprogram had to offer before I realized I had been accepted. I held the phone at arm’s lengthto protect him from my squeals. I hadn’t even told my parents I was applying to the program!

Those two weeks were an opportunity to study and learn in London. It was less expensivethan doing all the same activities on my own because of travelling in a group, but I still had topay my way. Imagine my mother’s surprise when I trundled downstairs with the news. She was inshock for some time (“Writing? Calm down, Christine. What does this have to do withLondon?”), but eventually agreed that I could attend.

I would give anything to do thewriting program again. I spent two wonderful weeks in the heart of London with 27 other teen girlsand six adult chaperones. We stayed in a University College London residence hall, had classesevery morning plus hours of writing time every day, and explored and enjoyed London every afternoonand night. We saw plays, went sightseeing, met authors and royal ushers, and went on private toursof palaces and Parliament. I befriended a group of Scottish students who were also staying in thedorm, and I still get the odd email from two of them. I have, of course, kept in very close touchwith the American ladies I traveled with on the program.

I have so many amazing and strangestories that I would not have if not for the program I had the good fortune to discover. Everythingseemed to be happening in the United Kingdom while we were there: The G8 Summit was in full swingup in Scotland, Bono was rocking out at the Live8 concert just down the street, London won the 2012Olympic bid while we walked the city, and the terrorist attacks curtailed our morning classes. Wecheered with the Brits when they won the bid and we cried the next day as the city was drowning ina chaos of sirens. And yet, I have never seen a city pull itself together so well as I saw Londonunder apparent siege. It truly was something to be proud of.

As our Scottish chef in thecafeteria said, “Don’t worry, me lassies. London will still be a beautiful city whenthis mess blows over.” He was right; it still is a beautiful city and I sincerely hope I willbe able to return soon.