Italian Dreams


Traveling is the third true love of my life (behind reading and eating).  My sister, best friend and I spent two glorious weeks roaming from one old as fuck Italian city to the next, watching the sunrise, drinking way too much Syrah and almost getting left on a train. OK that last one was just me. I have yet to find a place, though, that holds me captivated the same way Italy does. Every city I love more than the one before and I think I have fallen in love with every person who speaks Italian, the language is pure magic. 

Of course we did all of the obligatory churches and monuments, but it’s more than that. There is somethings that you just aren’t able to articulate; like when you’re watching  the rain slowly move in over Florence from your rooftop balcony, or the way Rome looks at twilight when everything turns purple. 



Of course, the art is breathtaking and you are staring at things people created thousands of years ago. But that holds only part of the wanderlust that fills my soul. It is the camaraderie, the bonds that are formed during travel, that only traveling with people can create. Having a meltdown because of exhaustion you have never known the likes of before, only to laugh to tears about it an hour later. Even connecting with strangers and having the most profoundly, deeply meaningful conversations about the meaning of life and spirituality itself is what draws me evermore out of my shell and into this great beautiful world. The old adage that “travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer” is much more than just a cliche. It is a cold, hard fact (shout out to the second cliche in so many sentences). Really, though. I have never regretted spending $400 to change a plane ticket or sleeping in a hostel infested with bed bugs. There is so much to see and do and EAT that for me it is something of an impossibility to stay in only one place. 





Blessed are those that wander. With dirty feet and messy hair. We have stars in our eyes and fires in our bellies.


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