Traveling and serving have long been part of a BYU education.
Dumb Found in Rome
By Cynthia Bramhall Dodge (BS ’07), Vineyard, UT
Before we even started our study abroad in Vienna, our program director emphasized trying to blend in as we traveled and not be “the dumb American tourists.” I tried to follow this advice, but sometimes dumb just has to win.
We were on a group trip from Vienna to Rome. After arriving at the train station, we were to take the subway to our hotel. The subways of Rome are an experience. You just keep going farther and farther underground, and it gets hotter and hotter (even in October). On top of that, we arrived on one of the busiest times of day and the platform was completely packed with people.
After a few minutes of waiting, an Italian woman got off a train and began yelling at the top of her lungs, “Marco! Marco!” As she waded through the crowd, she continued to call for him, turning her head back and forth as she yelled, “Marco! Marco!”
I was standing there, in a new country, surrounded by complete strangers, and all I could do was keep telling myself repeatedly, “Don’t be the dumb American!” But after the fifth or sixth time of her calling, “Marco! Marco!” I just couldn’t stand in any longer. I threw my head back and screamed “POLO!”
I know I should have been embarrassed, but judging by the scattered laughter around the platform, at least I was not the only dumb American there that day.
Project Mexico
By Carol Starkey Taylor (BS ’74), Portland, TN
In 1974 I was completing my nursing education which, focused on leadership within the hospital setting. However, there was another opportunity available—for six weeks we could lead a team of BYU students in teaching health and hygiene in Mexico.
After an introduction in Mexico City, we traveled to our assigned area. Nothing could have prepared me for our first trip to the village. We boarded a rickety bus packed with people managing their produce and live animals, including noisy chickens. The bus suddenly stopped at the top of a dry, grassy mountain in the middle of nowhere. I was stunned as we were told this was our stop!
After a 45-minute hike, we were in a rural community, where the huts were built on dirt floors. We were led to the Relief Society president’s home. In front of her door was a pig lying in the dirt with a chicken taking a nap on its back.
The president had prepared lunch for us, and, humbled and grateful, I burst into tears when I saw a white tablecloth spread out over a few boards.
For the next several weeks we hiked down the mountain to teach health and nutrition to the eager women. Our final visit was a homemaking activity where we were now the learners. The sisters taught us how to create corn-husk dolls. It was a sweet experience.
Now, after 50 years of church service, I reflect on how their beautiful gospel lives mirrored today’s culture and testimony within the Church.
All Are Alike Unto God
By Stephanie Jackman (BS ’14), Idaho Falls, ID
During my senior year at BYU, I participated in the inaugural recreation-management study abroad in Europe. The program was a whirlwind, visiting seven countries in six weeks. We were in Europe for five Sundays and attended church services in Salzburg, Lucerne, Oxford, and Reykjavík.
Growing up in Utah, I had not met many Church members outside of the state, let alone the country, before this study abroad. I don’t speak a word of German, French, or Icelandic, but the spirit we felt during those sacrament meetings was like nothing I had ever experienced before. In my journal I wrote, “It was incredible to speak with members of the Church from different parts of the world. We have such different lives, but the gospel of Jesus Christ is the same.”
This study-abroad program testified to me how the gospel of Jesus Christ is for everyone, regardless of nationality, background, or language. “All are alike unto God” (2 Ne. 26:33), and He invites every single one of us to come unto Him no matter where we are in the world.
Travel Mantra
By Kaitlyn Hirst Smith (BA ’18), Bentonville, AR
My mom insisted I should apply to the study abroad she found because it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. She, per usual, was right. That spring I pranced around Europe seeing all the classic art pieces and tasting every carb. Like it often does in Europe in the spring, it rained one of our first days in Paris. Soaking wet but determined to see my dream city, I told my friends, “I have been rained on before, and I’ll be rained on again—let’s get going.” So soggy we were almost pickled, we still explored the city and got the full experience.
Soon that became our motto, no matter the situation. It was blisteringly hot in Rome, no worries. I have been hot before, and I’ll be hot again, let’s climb to the top of the Duomo. Stepped on a sea urchin in Greece, I have had 20 slivers in my foot, and I’ll have slivers again, let’s reenact Mama Mia.
It’s tempting to be discouraged when your once-in-a-lifetime trip has speed bumps, but with my new motto, I got to experience an amazing summer.
Austrian Love Story
By Marty Bagley Halverson-Evans (’69), South Jordan, UT
Passing forests edged with frosty villages, the train pulled into Salzburg, the city adorned with snow on a bright, wintry day. I arrived in an Austrian fairy tale on Feb. 4, 1969, along with 64 other college students. Boys moved in with Austrian families, and we girls settled into the Steinlechner hotel.
The hotel lobby personified Gemutlichkeit (coziness)—quaint fabric lampshades, drapes and bright-blue cotton tablecloths with folks dancing around yellow flowers and red hearts. A green tile Kochelofen (stove) in the corner heated the room. Oak chairs, carved with hearts, sat by tables topped with dried posies. Kitsch in its element is utterly charming.
The hotel was run by a family who had escaped Communist-controlled Czechoslovakia. The mother was in charge, her her son was the chef, and her daughter-in-law kept it spotless. We became accustomed to the best Austrian cuisine: pancake soup, Wienerschnitzel, Apfel Strüdel.
A week later I was on a bus going back to the hotel, smiling at our newly elected student body president, W. Dee Halverson (BA ’71). I glanced out the window, and said, “I wonder what that sign says.”
He translated, “Get your sweetheart flowers for Valentine’s.” Coyly, I said, “I wish I had someone to give me flowers.” (I was 19. . . . It was the best I could do.)
He gave me flowers that Valentine’s—and every Valentine’s Day after that for 49 years.
STORIES FROM THE STACKS
At the heart of campus, the Harold B. Lee Library is also central to BYU students’ academic and social experiences. Whether you went to check out books or to check out possible dates, whether you experienced an awakening of understanding or just a rude awakening by midnight music, we want you to send us your best library story. Deadline: Dec. 10.
Y Magazine pays $50 for stories published in First Person. Send anecdotes of up to 300 words to firstperson@byu.edu. Submissions may be edited for length, grammar, appropriateness, and clarity.
