homeiswheretheplanelands

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Top 10

Before leaving Ghana, I made a list of the top 10 things I was going to miss about Ghana as well as the top 10 things I would not miss. Tomorrow I return to Italy to spend three days in Bologna with one of my best friends from NYU (it's her hometown). Then, I will leave Italy for good (at least, for now). So I thought I should do another top 10. Only this time I'm lazy, so I'll give you 10 total instead of 10 each. :)

Top 5 Things I Will Miss About Italy:

1) Moving Slow

In August, I return to New York City. The city is famous for it's energy. Everyone is moving all the time, and you can never move fast enough. I have long legs and I can move pretty quickly, but in the city I often feel as though I cannot keep up. In Florence, if you walk too fast, people look at you like you're crazy. No one ever "has to" be somewhere. It's a very take your time and do what you want kind of culture. I'm going to miss the lazy pace I've learned to live at. Hopefully I can take some of that back with me as I return to the hectic New York sidewalks.

2) Living in the Past

Every day, on my way to campus, I passed the baptistry that Dante was baptized in. On that same walk I went through the old Medieval entrance to the city and walked next to the Medici Palace. Within a day, I could see the Ponte Vecchio, the David, Brunelleschi's Duomo, countless pieces of Renaissance art, Medieval towers, Renaissance Villas, and more. The oldest thing I can see in my town is my neighbor's old car collection. Florence is steeped in history and everywhere you go there is more to learn.

3) Gardens

I will always prefer hiking through the mountains or lying on the beach over strolling through a garden. I am more of a natural beauty person. But I have to admit, I've never seen anything quite like the gardens in Florence. The second biggest gardens in Tuscany were on my campus, so I got a little spoiled. When I'm back in the freezing city next fall, I know I'm going to miss lying out in the gardens and sipping lemonade made from the campus lemon trees while reading Dante's Inferno.

4) The View

When I say "the view," I am not referring to any specific view. Whether it's the top of the Duomo, the bell tower of Palazzo Vecchio, Piazzale Michelangelo, the campus gardens, or simply the window in my terrace room. They are all amazing. Italy is full of stuff to climb and views to find. I'm going to miss the stunning overlooks with the stereotypical yellow houses and terracotta roofs surrounded by green rolling hills.

5) Food

At home, I am crazy about my food. Sometimes to a fault. But I have two exceptions for my healthy eating: chocolate and cultural experiences. I am going to miss the occasional gelato, gnocchi, pasta, or pizza. I am beyond excited to eat at a restaurant that serves anything but Italian food. Still, when I go home and put Gusta Pizza, Osterio Santa Spirito, and La Carraia behind me, I'm going to miss those hearty Italian meals.

Top 5 Things I Will NOT Miss About Italy:

1) "Bella"

Seriously, if anyone ever calls me bella again, I might hit them. Even after four days in Croatia I am seeing how uniquely Italian that is. I've never been to a country where I have felt so objectified and disrespected. The stereotype of over-zealous Italian men is very real and very obnoxious. I can't wait to be in a country where I can wear shorts without hearing "Bella! Bella" every two blocks.

2) Mosquitoes

Part of the reason I was so excited to study somewhere in Europe rather than in Africa was because I thought I was escaping the constant battle with mosquitoes. Turns out I was wrong. Covered in mosquitoes, I'm looking forward to returning to California where the only bugs I see are ones that don't bite. At least these mosquitoes don't have malaria...

3) Tourists

I've been spoiled. By traveling mostly in the developing world, I haven't had to deal with tourists much. I've met plenty of travelers, but that's an entirely different breed. Travelers are those that go to a place to embrace the culture and really experience the country. Tourists are the obnoxious groups of 15+ people gazing at the Duomo and blocking my way to class. In Florence, they are everywhere. I try not to complain because I know I've also stood gaping at my fair share of sites, but I like to believe I am more aware of those around me than the tourists blinded by jetlag and overwhelmed by culture shock.

4) Living in the Past

I love the culture and history in Florence. However, it seems like history is all they've got. People in Italy talk about the Renaissance the way people in California talk about Silicon Valley. I can't help but ask, "is there really nothing newer to talk about?" Has nothing exciting happened since the 1600s?! It's been fascinating to learn about the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, but I study development and I'm eager to return to a country that lives in the present. Granted, sometimes we get caught up with the future to an unhealthy extent, but I've always been a forward thinker. Living in Italy has been an interesting challenge for that part of my personality.

5) Cobblestone

Cobblestone streets are the worst enemy of a clutz. The number of times I have tripped and slipped in the streets is embarrassing. And anyone who wears heels must have a death wish. The cobblestone is cute and quaint at first, but it gets old fast. I need some good ol' fashioned concrete, thank you very much!

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Just Another Goodbye

"Look at that building," I said, pointing ahead to the intricate facade of another memory left behind by the Renaissance. "It's beautiful."

"And it's the last time we'll ever see it," my friend responded. Her puppy dog eyes gazed up at the meaningless building we had never seen before, her tears reflecting the full moon.

I tried not to roll my eyes. Instead, I smiled and said, "not if you come back!"

A lot of my friends have been on edge this week. It's understandable, or course, we're all emotional about leaving. But when we sat at dinner and I listened to everyone discuss how hard it was to leave, I found myself wishing I could still feel like that. "I wish I was sad," I told my friend.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've gotten so used to only being in a place for a few months, and I've gotten so used to moving onto the next place, that it doesn't even phase me any more. I don't even feel that emotional." I remember the way I sobbed on the plane ride from South Africa to Turkey. I was a wreck as I realized that I was leaving that country for an unknown amount of time. For all I knew, I would never see them again. It tore me up. I was heartbroken. But my heart has had so many goodbyes in the past few years, that I didn't think I could feel them anymore. I gazed at the Arno, I slurped my last noodle, I sipped my last cocktail, and I stared at the sad faces of my friends. And I tried so hard to feel. But there was nothing, No emotions. What the hell has happened to me?! I wondered. Have I become that accustomed to travel that I'm turning cold?

I really thought I had lost the ability to feel sad about leaving. Today, after everyone else had left, I was packing my bags and getting ready to go to the train station. I tucked everything into my suitcase, desperately trying to make it all fit. I grabbed my Italian cell phone and threw it into my purse, zipped everything up, and started to walk towards the door. I thought I heard my phone buzz, so I paused to check who had texted me. It was a ghost buzz and my phone screen was empty, but as I stared at the empty phone screen, I realized that I would never use this phone again. My Italian number was meaningless, as my days in Italy were over. That's when it hit me. All the fun, all the memories were done. I thought I should cry. That's what people usually do in moments like that, right? Instead, the tightness in my chest released with an ear to ear smile and laughter. I thought about how much fun I had here and what a great experience it was, but then I thought about how much I couldn't wait to reunite with these friends once we're all back in New York. I thought about cooking Italian food for my parents and telling my friends countless stories about Italy. I thought about showing my yoga teacher in California what the one in Italy had taught me. I thought about all the amazing memories I have yet to make.

Maybe all the travel I have done has taught me not to cry when I leave. It's taught me not to get sad when I say goodbye. But not because I've become cold. Rather, because I've learned that no matter where I go, the experience will be amazing and the memories will last a lifetime. So today, as I board the train and leave Florence, I won't be sad. Instead, I'll feel blessed that I had this beautiful experience, and excited for all the experience to come.

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

To The Best Mom in the World

There was a time in Middle School that I thought you were the worst. You embarrassed me and everything you said made me angry. Of course this had nothing to do with you. I was an angsty teenager and you were the prime target. I could go on and on trying to apologize for those days, but then again, it's a phase we all go through. The "I'm too cool for my family" phase.

I grew out of that phase fairly quickly and I think it's due to the fact that I have the best family in the world, so why would I want to be too cool for them anyway? This morning I started compiling photos of us together and it made me think of all the amazing memories we've made. But it also started to make me think of how much I have learned from you (even when I tried to fight the fact that you were teaching me anything at all).

So for this Mother's Day, I've decided to reflect on some of the things you have taught me:

1) You can never love too much.

The amount of love in our household is truly incredible. I never realized how abnormal it was until I would talk to other people about my family. They stare at me like I'm an alien and ask, "your family is perfect, isn't it?" I laugh. We are anything but perfect. Our family is full of some of the weirdest people I've ever met. But that's part of what makes us awesome. You taught me never to fear love. I still remember the time I accidentally bent a spoon by putting it in the microwave. You got angry (because you knew I could have blown up the microwave) and I was terrified that you would not love me anymore. That day you explained to me what "unconditional" meant, and I have spent the rest of my life in awe of the amount of love you give. Not just to me or to our family, but to the world. I am inspired to try to love as much as you do.

2) You never stop learning.

Whenever we walk the dog or sit in the car and chat about life, there is almost always a point in which you mention something one of your kids has taught you. When we meet knew people, you tell me what you admire about them and hope to implement in your own life. You are not afraid to grow. You embrace change. Though you're stubborn like me and we both have a tendency to act like we know it all, you know how to admit you don't know when it really matters. Your willingness to learn from those around me has taught me that there is no "finished product" to strive for. I will never say, "great, I'm done. I've learned it all now." Because you taught me that every relationship and every interaction is a chance to grow and learn.

3) The only thing that matters is your happiness.

I used to be terrified of disappointing you and Dad. Not because I thought I would ever do something that bad, but because I worried I wouldn't live up to my potential. You guys always had so much love for me and believed I could do anything I wanted. I used to fear not doing enough to impress you. I thought what you wanted from me was success. But you were quick to teach me how wrong I was. You showed me that all you care about is happiness. And because of you, I have spent my time working towards that which makes me happy. I see you and Dad and I know you are two of the happiest people on this world. I make it a goal to reflect that and find joy in my life. You taught me to prioritize happiness above all else.

4) Have confidence in who you are.

I'm a weirdo. It's a Dittmore thing that we can't avoid. I used to talk about colonizing Pluto in the car to school and I have run into more poles than I can count. And yet, I have never felt the need to hide any part of myself. If someone didn't accept who I was, I didn't think it was my problem or that I had to change myself. Because you taught me to have complete and utter confidence in myself. By loving and believing in me, you showed me that there will always be people who accept me for who I am. You taught me to surround myself with those people and not worry about the people who find me embarrassing or awkward. I walk with my head high and I don't try to hide my crazy. And you are to thank for the confidence that guides me.

I could go on, but then this blog would get uncomfortably long. Instead, I will just say thank you for everything you have shown me over the years. I love you more than I could ever explain on a silly blog and I am so blessed to have you in my life. Oh, and happy mother's day!

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

There's Magic in the Air

I have fallen in love and his name is Capri. But actually, this island is incredible. Maybe it's because I've been so stressed about finals and papers, or maybe it's because the water is the color of sapphires, but this island retreat was exactly what I needed this weekend.

I arrived from Pompei via ferry at 11am and immediately got the sense that I was going to like it here. Everyone was so friendly and helped my navigate the bus system to find my way to Villa Eva, my home for the night. I dropped my stuff at the hotel, got a run down of the island from reception, and hit the ground running. My plan was to walk into town, get lunch, then go visit the Blue Grotto (the biggest "site" on the island). However, when I got to the center of town, I became entranced. I strolled through the adorable streets, gazing at shop after shop of homemade pottery and stunning paintings. My stomach was growling, but I completely forgot about eating when I looked up and realized that I had somehow ended up at the base of the island's chairlift.

The chairlift took me up to the highest point of the island where I could see everything. Including the oncoming storm. I walked around the peak, taking photos of the incredible view, until my stomach starting yelling at me that it was time to go find food. Right when the chairlift started taking me down, the clouds opened up and rain began to pour down on me. As soon as I reached the city, I rushed into the nearest restaurant and gorged myself on their delicious gnocchi. By the time I finished, I was starting to feel dry and the rain was coming to an end.

The island is split in two halves: Capri and Anacapri. I was staying on Anacapri and had explored their "downtown," so after lunch, I decided to see how it differed from Capri's city center. Capri is much more touristy. While Anacapri felt local and quaint, Capri felt high end and crowded. However, I still found myself meandering through the streets, captivated by the island's natural beauty.

I kept seeing arrows pointing to "Arco Naturale," which I could only assume meant Natural Arch, and decided to find out. I followed the winding roads, climbed a few staircases, and eventually found myself facing the stunning natural arch.

From there, I had two options: follow the paved road back to city center, or walk down the winding staircase that led to an unknown location. I knew I would probably just have to turn around and walk back up the stairs later, but curiosity won, and I started climbing down. After at least and hour of hiking up and down random trails, I came across a restaurant that overlooked the beach. I sat down, drank some tea, and gathered my energy before continuing the journey. I ended up spending at least two, maybe three hours hiking all over the island. I had no idea where I was the entire time, but I didn't care. I was on an adventure and I was loving every minute of it. Eventually I found myself back on a familiar road and stumbled with shaky, tired legs back to the bus stop.

By the time I got back to the hotel it was already 6:30, so after washing the sweat out of me, I walked a few minutes down to a restaurant that should have been out of my budget. The staff was so confused about the fact that someone would come solo to a restaurant like theirs, but I got a free appetizer and shot out of it. If that wasn't worth the awkward stares from the employees, the sunset was. It's why I chose the place; their view was unbeatable.

Today, my only goal was to see Il Grotto Azzura, or, in English, the Blue Grotto. The Blue Grotto is so named because of the blue-ish hue the cave has when viewed from inside. The rocks of the cave do not touch the ground, so the sunlight reflects from outside and makes the entire cave glow. The result is a romantic blue hue. I had to fight the tourists to get there and the two minute boat ride cost more than my lunch, but there is always a reason that tourist spots are tourist spots. Because it's worth seeing.

After the Blue Grotto I decided to follow a one hour hiking trail that went along the side of the island. It was beautiful and peaceful. The trail ran from the grotto to an abandoned fort and looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. The trail was still there, and footprints proved that it was actually in use, but the tall grass growing over the path gave me doubts. Plus, I didn't see a single person during the hour I hiked. The trail was perfect for me. It was peaceful and empty, with nature all around, and stunning views of the ocean. To top it all off, there were tons of turn offs which I could explore, including a giant rock I got to climb.

By the time I got back to city center I was starving. I enjoyed one last pizza from Southern Italy and explored the streets for awhile until it was finally time to say goodbye to Capri and start the long journey back to Firenze.

This weekend was a perfect getaway and Capri has easily made the top ten list of favorite places I've ever been. Between exploring random hiking trails, watching the breathtaking sunset, and riding a boat through the blue glow, the entire island felt seeped in magic. Even the tiny streets and friendly people were perfect. I felt like I was living in a Disney-made town in Italy. I loved every minute and I hope I can come back soon. For now, I'll just have to remember the deep blue ocean whenever it gets too cold in New York.

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

All By Myself

It's been awhile since I've traveled solo. Throughout my time in Ghana and Italy, I've been surrounded by fellow students. Every weekend away has been with a group of friends. And it's been wonderful. I love having people to share my experiences with. Plus, I've been lucky to make some amazing friends on my travels and I am so glad I got to see different parts of the world with all of them.

However, this weekend was a four day weekend and I couldn't decide what to do. I knew a few friends who were staying in Florence, some that were going to Greece, and a few that wanted to plan a trip to Spain. But Spain turned out to be out of my budget, I'm going to Greece with my family, and I didn't want to stay in Florence. So I decided to head south, regardless of the fact that I'd be going solo.

This weekend I chose to spend two nights in Pompei and one night in Capri. I didn't know what to expect, but it turned out to be a spectacular decision.

I sat on the train from Florence to Naples and watched friends laughing and families arguing. I forgot what it feels like to travel alone, I thought to myself. There were times, like when I was lost in an empty subway station in the middle of Naples (which is not known for being the safest place), that I wished I had a friend with me. At least someone to weigh in and help me figure out what to do. There were times when I found myself thinking, "blank would love this" or "this is the perfect place for blah blah." Of course, I love sharing my travels with my friends and family and there were times that I would've preferred that. But there were also many times when I loved the pure simplicity of traveling solo again.

When I got to Pompei it was almost dinner time, so I spent the evening walking around town and getting my first delicious Napoleon pizza. The next day, I decided to check out the ruins and visit Mt. Vesuvius. The ruins were incredible. Because everything was petrified by the fumes from Mount Vesuvius, the remains were in great shape. The entire city came to life right in front of me. However, my highlight that day was Mount Vesuvius. When I reached the top, the entire volcano was covered in a thick fog. I stood inside the cloud, barely able to see more than ten feet in front of me. After ten minutes of shivering through the dense mist I decided to step inside a small shack for a cup of hot chocolate. Once I had warmed up I started to head back down the mountain, but a nagging sensation in the back of my head told me to go look at the crater one more time.

This is pointless, I told myself as I walked towards the crater again, all I can see there is an endless expanse of white. Just as I reached the crater, a gust of wind blew the fog away and left the sun shining brightly on the empty crater. I could see everything. The crater shimmered in full glory right in front of me for about two minutes. Then the fog took over and I was once more shrouded in endless white clouds.

Something about the experience felt magical. I had almost walked away. I could easily have stayed a few more minutes sipping hot chocolate by the heater. I almost missed it. But instead, I stared into the center of a volcano.

When I got back to the hotel I stood under the hot water, trying in vein to warm up. At dinner that night, I reflected on what it is I like so much about traveling alone. It's not that I don't love traveling with other people, because I do. I think a fellow traveler can bring an element of fun that the loneliness of traveling solo lacks. Plus, there is a lot I can't do for safety reasons when I travel as a young girl alone. But there are certain things that traveling solo allows me to do. If I want to spend hours sitting at a coffee shop just watching everyone, I don't feel like I am wasting anyone's time. If I don't want to go into the church or museum because I've seen a thousand already, I don't feel like I'm disappointing anyone. If I want to turn down that random street even though I might get lost, I don't have to ask anyone's permission. And if I want to go to bed at 9:30, I don't feel like I'm ruining anyone's night. Plus, every time I go to a nicer restaurant, the chef gives me a free appetizer. I think they feel bad for me because I'm eating solo, but her, I'm not going to complain about free food.

Spending two nights in Pompei was a lot of fun and it reminded me how much I enjoy traveling alone every once in awhile. However, as great as my time in Pompei was, the two days in Capri were really what made the weekend memorable. 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Notte Bianca

The "White Night" festivals began in St. Petersburg as a celebration of summer. These festivals took place during the days the sun did not set until 10pm. It is supposed to be a celebration of arts and culture that has spread across Italy.

On Wednesday night, Italy celebrated their own White Night, or "Notte Bianca." Though the motivation for the festival is still the same, Notte Bianca in Florence is basically a giant party throughout the city that lasts from dinner time until the sun rises (so there are people stumbling about until at least 5 or 6 am).

Our celebration of Notte Bianca seemed to lack some of the art-centric charm. Rather, we found a random hay maze in front of one church and a laser light show in front of another. But sure, it was totally about the arts! I mean, the museums were open all night, so that's cultured, right?

When the night started, Italians of all walks of life could be seen laughing and strolling along the streets with a class of wine. From Grandpas to stroller-ridden babies, the city was more alive than I knew was possible.

After our stint in the hay maze and gazing at the laser light show, we found our way to Mercato Centrale. Usually, Mercato Centrale is a large food market that closes at 2pm. However, in the past month, they opened the top floor. The top floor is basically a high end food court. Ten or so restaurants cover the space, each with their own specialty. You have the pasta people, the sandwich people, the dessert people, the wine people, and my personal favorite, the vegetarian locally-grown farm people. They were giving out fresh fruit juice shots and vegan chips and dip in celebration of Notte Bianca. We spent hours sipping wine and enjoying the rare chance to see Florence open past midnight. (Especially rare for me, who's bedtime is usually 10).

Eventually sleep threatened to overtake us and we decided to head to a secret bakery (yes, that's a thing Florence has. It's basically bakeries that open in the middle of the night. But they don't advertise... you just have to know about them) and then head home. 

I ate my delicious pastry and turned to find my way back to my apartment. What I saw astounded me. At this hour, the city was usually asleep (as was I). But tonight, the usually empty streets leading to my apartment were packed. Hundreds of drunken college kids were running from place to place, celebrating the night. At 11pm it made sense to me. "Fun!" I thought, "it's like a giant party!" Yet when I unlocked my building and said goodnight to the city, it was still full of students who were planning to be up for at least another three or four hours. "They're like the kids at the party that don't know when it's time to be done," I thought as I took a last bite of my sweet and climbed up to my apartment.

My friends and I have an ongoing joke that in Italy, nothing makes sense. We love it and are having so much fun, but we can never explain why things are the way they are in Italy. Notte Bianca was one example of this. I had a blast and I am so glad I got to experience it. But I have no idea why they had a hay maze, a laser show, and a ton of alcohol in April to celebrate an old arts festival that originated in honor of summer solstice... but hey, when in Rome, right?

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

A Long Overdue Update

I can picture my Grammy and Pappap sitting at their breakfast table, sipping coffee. Grammy is on Facebook looking at my photos from Pisa. "Oh Bob, look at this one," she says, laughing and handing the iPad to him. I wonder if she has written anything yet.

They check my blog only to see the same photo of my dad and I in Cinque Terre staring back at them. Still no news. Then they start discussing whether or not they should email me, and if so, what they should say. I can imagine the email perfectly.

"Hi Hon!

Looks like your having an amazing time in Italy. Grammy and I loved it when we were there. Keep writing, we look forward to another update from you. Can't believe your coming home so soon.

Pappap"

Well have no fear Grammy and Pappap, you need not email me, as I am finally writing in my blog again.

I'm going to go ahead and use the oldest excuse in the book: I've been busy. During the weeks, my hours are filled with class, homework, and working for the Office of Student Life. By the time Friday rolls around, I'm usually to excited to explore Italy to even think about blogging. But it's been over a month and it's about time you know what's going on with me.

For the past month I've been running around Italy trying to see as much as possible. First I spent a night in Venice with friends who were visiting from NYU London and NYU Paris. We ate delicious food, watched glass blowers work their magic, and laughed at the ridiculous graduation ceremonies going on. (There is a tradition in Venice that when a student graduates college, they are put through an intense series of pranks that span throughout the entire day of their graduation).

Venice is an adorable tourist town, but my favorite part was being reunited with two of my close friends from New York. The only thing we missed was a gondola ride... but that's what happens when you're strapped for time.

The next weekend, I spent a day (yes ONE day) seeing Rome and the Vatican. It was crazy. Rome is already a giant tourist trap, but we were there on the Saturday before Easter, so the streets were practically paved with tourists. The crowd around the Trevi fountain was bigger than the fountain itself. And we waited for four hours to see the Sistine Chapel. But we still managed to see the Vatican Museum, the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, and the Roman Forum. On top of that, I was with one friend who knows everything about archeology and Roman history and another friend who knows everything about art history and the Renaissance. So I learned a lot about everything we saw (even if most of it went over my head). It was like I had two private tour guides. It was a rushed day, but all is well, because I made a wish in the fountain, so assuming the legend is true, I'll be back soon enough.

The next weekend I led an NYU tour on a day trip to Pisa. Pisa is the perfect day trip, because I can't imagine what you would do there if you had more than one day. In fact, we spent most of the day taking photos. It started with leaning on the tower photos, and quickly escalated to leaning on everything in Pisa photos. It was short and sweet, but we had a blast nonetheless.

Besides that, I've been swamped with essays and finals preparation. With only a week left before finals week, the end is near. However, I took this four day weekend to enjoy Notte Bianca followed by a nice vacation in Southern Italy... but more on that later.

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

This is how I feel whenever I am asked about my travels. "Oh you went to Ethiopia?! What was that like?!?!" I hear it all the time. Well, do you have a lifetime? Because I could talk about it forever. I find it nearly impossible to talk about my experiences. No matter what I say, I always feel like I'm leaving so much out. I get terrified that people won't understand and that I can never say enough to share the incredible journey I've been through with another. So I apologize if I rant for hours when you ask me about somewhere I have been or someone I have known. And I apologize if sometimes I just say, "it was amazing!" because no other words will ever cover the depth of how travel has changed my life. 

"These experiences were so meaningful to me that I don’t want you to soundbite them."

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Father-daughter hike in Cinque Terre

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Just Keep Climbing

There were two things I knew about Cinque Terre before going there: it is beautiful and I can hike there. So obviously I was thrilled when Dad recommended that we hike through the five towns of Cinque Terre. 

We took the 6am train from Florence to get to Cinque Terre and I spent the entire two hour ride dozing in and out and thinking to myself, "this better be worth waking up at 5am." When we stepped out of the train station and into the town of Monterosso, I knew it was. The Mediterranean Sea sparkled as the shining sun bounced off of its crystal surface. A row of brightly painted houses stretched along the shore. Tourists and locals alike walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the first rays of sun Italy has had in awhile. 

Dad and I strolled through Monterosso (a feat which took maybe ten minutes to accomplish in the tiny town) and enjoyed some fresh fruit while overlooking the ocean. It didn't take long for us to feel the itching desire to start hiking. We could feel the trails at our backs calling us and the excitement started to build as I watched other hikers begin their ascent. 

The last time I went on a proper hike was probably last summer. I went on a few strolls in Tahoe over winter break and every walk in Ghana felt like a hike. Still, I had not properly immersed myself in the trees, strolled over dirt trails, and really enjoyed that time to connect with nature in almost a year. The minute my dad and I started climbing up the trail from Monterosso to Vernazza, I felt a deep sigh of satisfaction ripple through my body. 

The trails of Cinque Terre snake up and down the hills, winding from the coast into the heart of the hills and back out to the coast. Each town sits along the shore, and each trail climbs straight from one town up the mountain, then slowly weaves down to the next town. Behind every corner we discovered incredible views. One turn led us to an alcove with a waterfall and a pond filled with toads. After the next curve we came upon rolling hills covered in green terraces filled with grape vineyards. Still, the best sights were the beautiful vistas that greeted us after the more intense climbs. These flawless views showed us the rolling hills of Cinque Terre, the tiny villages resting along the shore, and the stunning, endless, crystal water. 

The towns are separated by no more than a few miles, but the hikes are demanding. When you started the hike, you would climb multiple flights of stairs that led straight up. Just when you think you can climb no higher, this sight greets you: 

My dad and I climbed over 100 flights of stairs in the first day and over 200 flights of stairs in the second day. We climbed the equivalent of over 3 empire state buildings. It became a game between the two of us to try to guess how many flights we had climbed before checking the fitbit at every plateau. 

On Saturday we spent over two hours climbing up and down until we reached Vernazza. This is the town in which we spent the night. When we got their, we had lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the entire town. As I slurped my pasta and dad dug into his fresh fish, we watched the tourists play on the beach and stroll up and down the main road. We quickly joined them and explored every shop, restaurant, and side street there was to explore. The tiny town did not take very long to see and we soon found ourselves dozing in the sun on the warm rocks along the shore. 

Sunday morning we left Vernazza and began the hike to Corniglia, the next town on the map. In Corniglia we were enjoying a nice pastry and getting excited to finish the hike: we had the two easiest trails left and we were still feeling good. That's when we found out that the "easy" hike from Corniglia to Manarola was closed, and we were going to have to take the long route. As fas as mileage goes, the long route was not so bad. However, over a distance of one mile we managed to climb 1,000+ feet. Then, after a short respite of flat ground, we had to climb back down to Manarola. Still, as tough as the climb was, we loved it. The trail was stunning and almost empty. It was just me, my dad, nature, and a whole lot of stairs. 

When we reached Manarola we learned that the trail to Riomaggiore was closed. This is the easiest trail of the hike- it only takes 20 minutes and it is almost entirely flat. Of course, if we wanted to hike to Riomaggiore the long way, it would be 6-8 miles all up and down the mountain. We decided to take the two minute train and save what we had left of our leg strength. 

After lunch in Riomaggiore we began the three hour ride back to Florence. I settled into my train chair and tried to read my book, but my eyes insisted on shutting themselves. I cuddled into the chair and wrapped my sweater around me. I let myself be tired and began to drift off. I was filled with complete happiness. 

No weekend could have been better spent than hiking the hills of Cinque Terre with my dad. I am lucky to be the daughter of the most incredible father in the world, and spending that time with him was beyond perfect. Neither my dad nor I would define ourselves as "museum people," and we reveled in the opportunity to take two days to dive into the heard of the hills of Italy. The views, food, hiking, and lying on the beach would have been amazing either way. But the fact that I got to share it with my dad amidst incredible conversations, laughter, and father-daughter bonding, made it a weekend that I will hold dear to my heart for the rest of my life.  

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

The Missing Blog

--> I found this in my drafts and apparently never published it. This is something I wrote during my last week in Ghana

Top 10 Things I Will Miss the Least

Tuesday I posted a list of the top ten things I will miss the post about Ghana. However, the more excited I get to go home, the more I realize there are some things about Ghana that I will not miss at all. So today I bring you the top ten things I will not miss about living in Accra. I love Ghana, but I do not particularly love these ten things about Ghana. 

1. Sweating... All. The. Time. 

Literally, I walk outside and I am immediately drenched. At first I used to try to hide it, always wiping my face and redoing my hair. Now I can be seen with a bun and headband walking with ambivalence as an ocean pours out of my forehead and armpits. And other parts of my body that I didn't even know had sweat glands. 

2. Taxi drivers

If I am walking, it does not mean I would rather be driving. If I do not flag you down, stoping in front of me and honking incessantly will not get me to get in your car. You are wasting your time. And don't get me started on the "why the hell aren't you getting in my car" hand motion. I am so ready for the taxi drivers of NYC who couldn't care less about the white girl walking down the street. 

3. Open gutters

Just take a moment to be grateful that you do not have to walk next to an open gutter of human excrement, trash, and a grayish liquid that bubbles every day. If that sounds bad, just imagine seeing a chicken wade through it all looking for food. And that ladies and gentleman is why I do not eat meat. 

4. Burning piles of waste

You know how people in the mountains will burn piles of pine leaves to reduce the threat of a forest fire? Well hear they burn piles of trash because they do not have proper waste disposal infrastructure. Oh, and the fires release green and yellow smoke that is definitely turning the air into a toxic, polluted mess. 

5. The smells 

See above. We have open gutters, burning trash, and a bunch of sweaty people running away from taxis that are so old they are emitting all sorts of fumes. Obviously it constantly smells vile. The worst part is that sometimes I do not even notice it. I do not want to believe I am getting used to that god-awful smell. 

6. People peeing on the streets

Not only does this add to the smells around here, but it is just plain weird. I will never get used to walking down the street (be it a main road or a secluded alley, the public urination happens on both) and having someone smile or nod at me while they stand in the middle of the walkway just letting loose into the open gutters. 

7. Bottled water

To be honest, I have no problem drinking from a bottle. Picking up one of these plastic bottles is just as easy as filling up my reusable one at the tap at home. And it's so cheap I barely notice the cost. However, the amount of plastic I have contributed to the global landfill kills me. There is no way to avoid it. On top of that, there is no notion of recycling in Ghana. 

8. Abrouni!!!

Imagine if every time you went outside, everyone who say you yelled, "WHITE PERSON! White person how are you? Where are you going white person? Talk to me white person. I love you white person. White person, will you marry me?" I think it is sell explanatory why I am not going to miss this. 

9. Tsssssss

You know how if you want to get someone's attention, you call out, "excuse me?" Well as polite as Ghana is, they have not mastered the are of "excuse me?" Instead, if they are trying to get your attention or the attention of a waiter/taxi driver/fruit seller/etc, they hiss. The worst part is, I've started doing it. I really hope I do not accidentally hiss at my waitress when I get home. 

10. 90 degree weather

Okay, I know I put this on the top ten things I am going to miss, but it has its darker side as well. Remember all that sweating I talked about? And the heat does not help with the smell. So as fun as it is to be tan and enjoy the sun, I am really looking forward to sweater weather and fireplaces. I've started to forget what it feels like to be cold. And not covered in sweat and dirt. 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Falling in Love all Over Again

I stood in the middle of the muddy grass, hearing nothing but the water rushing past the moss covered rocks. The tour bus melted away, along with my fellow travel companions. I gazed out at the rolling hills and suddenly I was alone. 

The stunning greens, golds, and purples of the landscape left me speechless. I was swimming in Mother Nature's treasure chest, in awe of the flawless jewels she had created. I tried to move towards the impeccable image of beauty that stood before me, but the wind threw me back two steps for every one I tried to take. Nature's voice whistled past me, reminding me that this was a beauty that could not be claimed. That I must not dream of obtaining it, but simply admire it for all the splendor that shone around me. 

I closed my eyes and felt the wind throw my hair in all directions. I felt the water from the creek lift up and spray my face. This wind was faster and more aggressive then any wind I had ever known. In New York, the wind seems to scream in protest against the skyscrapers and subways that trap the air. Here, in the hills of Ireland, the wind had a joyous quality. It was as though the wind were jumping across the valley, wrestling with the clouds, and enjoying the endless space in which it could run free. Mother Nature danced through the wind, calling out with ecstasy.

Despite the wind and rain, my inhale filled me with total warmth. It was the warmth of Mother Nature's loving embrace filling me from head to toe. I stood motionless but for the flow of nature's energy as it passed through my nerves. I remembered why, in Elementary School, I had always wanted to sit in the field picking daisies rather than paying attention to my softball game. I remembered why, in Middle School I loved to dance barefoot in the rain, despite my dead yelling that I would catch a cold. I remembered why, senior year, I had been disappointed that my friends wanted to go to Disneyland to celebrate graduating instead of going hiking. I remembered why I am filled with stillness and joy whenever I step onto the deck in Lake Tahoe. I remembered why, in seventh grade, when I had to choose between a school trip to Costa Rica, Paris, or New York, I never had to think twice and rushed off to Costa Rica. I stood cradled in Mother Nature's arms and I remembered how it feels to be in love with nature. I remembered how it feels to be in love with Earth. 

When I opened my eyes, I saw the only pure image of perfection I have ever seen, and it spread as far as I could see. I saw what happens when man leaves Mother Nature alone to work her magic. There cannot be want here, I thought to myself. In a world as perfect and beautiful as this, how can we search for more? My breath flew away from me on the back of the wind and the flutter in my heart told me that I was still in love with this incredible world. For a moment, I was the only person in this world, celebrating the beauty of nature. For a moment, I knew how it feels to be utterly free. 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Family is Family

I sat on the plane, watching the ground of London get closer and closer as we descended. The plane shook with the impact of the wheels on the ground, and I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. My dad's cousin, Melissa, and her husband, Jeremy, were waiting for me at arrivals. What if I don't recognize them! I worried.

I had only met Jeremy once during an eight hour layover in London, and though I may have met Melissa one or two other times, I could not remember it. I knew she spent time living with my parents, but that was before I was born. I mostly knew Melissa and Jeremy threw graduation cards and stories from when my sister visited them. But they seemed happy to have me stay with them for the two nights I was going to be in London, and I was excited to get to know the family members my sister had enjoyed staying with so much. 

When I stepped into baggage claim, Melissa came rushing towards me with her arms wide open. We embraced and for the rest of the trip, I felt as though I were home. Jeremy and Melissa pampered me. They gave me home cooked dinner one night and we got Indian take-out the next; two perfect meals for me. They gave me my own room, made me tea before I had a chance, and brought me on tours of their favorite parts of London. 

I fell in love with their Golden Retriever, Chester. He lay sprawled across the couch with me as we flipped through old family photos and swapped stories about our shared family members. 

Regardless of the fact that we had barely spoken in the past, I felt completely at home with Melissa and Jeremy. Maybe that is because of their incredible hospitality. Maybe it is because they are two of the most kind hearted people I have ever met. Maybe it's because they took me to Whole Foods and did not judge the amount of time I spent cuddling with their dog. Or maybe, just maybe, it is because family is family, no matter where you go. 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

The Strangest Place I've Ever Been

I'm used to getting off planes in a daze. After hours of sitting in a tiny box of recycled air, nothing about the "real" world feels real. But that is only when I've spent ten or more hours trekking across the ocean. The flight from Florence to Brussels was not one of those dream-enducing, cloudy-minded flights. Yet when I followed the group of NYU students wandering aimlessly through the streets of Brussels, nothing felt real. Or rather, it felt too real. It felt like watching a 64-inch high-def television show where it is so sharp, it surpasses reality. 

I spent the entire weekend trying to put my finger on what it was about Brussels that threw me off. Maybe it was the fact that the greatest monument of their town was a fountain with a tiny (and I mean tiny) naked boy pissing. The delicious waffles and chocolate sat in stark contrast with the grey skies, and even greyer buildings. The streets were nearly empty with the occassional business man hustling past in a fog of stress. Even the trees shuttered with dull lonliness. Everything was in perfect order. The entire city was rigid and tired. And this is the capital of the European Union. 

As we sat in lectures and toured the buildings of the European Union, a strange sense of doom followed me. Maybe I can blame the fact that I'm reading Ayn Rand, but I had the sence that this is what it must of felt like to live in the fictional world of George Orwell about five years before 1984 came about. The whole city felt as though it were holding its breath, waiting for the catastrofic. Some might blame that on the crisis the EU is trying to manage with Russia and the Ukraine. Others might blame my over-active imagination. Either way, I couldn't shake the feeling that something about the town wasn't right. 

Though I have been to countries all over Africa and Asia, what my fellow student said during one of our tours rang true to me. We stood staring at the bleak city and he muttered, "This may be the strangest place I have ever been." 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

It's Okay to Be Happy

In fourth grade two of my classmates were hit and killed by a drunk driver. Later that day, I laughed at a joke one of my friends told. That was the first time in my life I experienced guilt for being happy.

During my sixth grade health class we were taught that empathy is being able to feel the emotions other people are experiencing. I thought about how often my friends would be bitter, angry, or disappointed by something while I would just laugh and keep enjoying myself. I started to worry that I was not capable of empathy. 

By the time I got to high school, I learned that sometimes it was better received if I hid my happiness. For example, when your classmates are complaining about the essay the teacher just assigned, they don't want to hear how interested you are in the subject and how excited you are to start writing. 

During my gap year, I was in a constant battle with my joy. In South Africa, Ethiopia, Thailand, and India, I was surrounded by oppression, corruption, abuse, and poverty. Whenever I found myself smiling, laughing, and feeling truly blissful (as I often did), a sense of guilt would set in. Was I allowed to be this happy in such a sad world?

Once I moved to New York, I slowly began to abandon my relationship with joy. With the memories of my gap year haunting me and the darkness of New York shadowing me, I did not see the point anymore. If the world wanted me to be cynical, hopeless, and worn out, that's what I would be. 

Near the beginning of my second semester at New York University I replaced joy with depression. My happiness and laughter disappeared, and anxiety and paranoia took their places. People had always treated my constant happiness as an anomaly, and I was tired of standing out. I told myself that the universe wanted me to give up, that I was supposed the lose my idealism and love of life, because that is what everyone told me time would do.

Well, I was wrong. The last thing the universe wanted was for me to give up. Since the summer I have been working hard to reclaim my joy. Through therapy, meditation, yoga, mindful eating, and a conscious reconsideration of my values I have created space in myself to feel again.

In the past seven months I have seen a massive shift in myself. First, I had to work consciously and constantly to move out of my depression. I thought the shadows had been sent to me by the universe, but once I started to shake those shadows off, I saw the universe reaching out a hand, anxious to pull me back up. 

When I decided to dedicate myself to joy, happiness, love, and compassion, the universe gave me everything I needed to make that happen. Of course it has been a challenge. There have been times when I could barely stand the weight of my pain was so heavy. But I asked the universe (some may call it energy, spirit, even God- it's all the same) to help me heal. And it responded beautifully. 

Over time, my joy has started to fill me once again, only this time with more strength and light then ever before. For the first time since I was small enough to get carried to bed, my joy is mine and mine alone. The negativity constantly showered on me by the joyless in our society cannot touch me. Because feeling negative alongside them is not empathy, it's surrender. 

Last night I took to the mat for my (sometimes) daily yoga session. Before I start yoga, I like to try to set an intention for my practice. This time, I send out a call to the universe asking it to let me feel. "Let me feel what I am not feeling. Let me feel what I still need to know, what I still need to heal." 

I have used this intention before and it has brought me many emotions from many times in my life, but it has always helped me heal. I dug deeper and breathed fuller as my practice went on. When I settled into savasana at the end, a heard a clear voice whisper to me, "it's okay to be happy." As I exhaled to voice added, "you are joy. You are love."

Don't fear your happiness.  Don't feel guilty about your joy. Joy and happiness are not escapes from reality or denials of the atrocities our planet faces. Rather, by embracing your joy, you are doing the most for the world you possibly can. You are shining your light brightly so that it may reflect on others and help them shine to. Always remember, it is okay to be happy. 

Just a reminder what pure joy looks like :) 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Tu Me Manqué

There is one saying I learned in French class that always stuck with me: Tu me manqué. It is the French equivalent to I miss you, but the direct translation is closer to  “you are missing from me.” I always loved that. It seemed so much more romantic. It is as though without you, I am not whole, and therefore my missing you is not a conscious action, but an unavoidable state of being.

When we arrived in Paris, we were so focused on finding our hostel, showering, and making our way downtown that we barely had the chance to soak in the fact that we were actually in Paris. Once we were settled into our hostel, we walked down to the Louvre. There, my friends decided to go into the museum. Having been twice, and not being a huge museum person anyway, I decided to use the time to explore Paris my way. My first stop was Angelina’s. 

Angelina’s is a café next to the Louvre that is famous for its hot chocolate. The line for a table was (and always is) out the door, so I decided to get a cup to go and keep exploring. I carried my five-euro cup of liquid gold and started walking down the Champs Elysees towards L’Arc de Triumphe. One sip of that delicious hot chocolate threw me back four years in time and brought memories of Amy and my time in France flooding back. I was immediately filled with a deep nostalgia and missed my sister more than I have ever missed her before.

When I visited my sister during her semester abroad, we had the time of our lives in Paris. We saw and did everything, but more importantly, we had a full week traveling just the two of us. I hadn’t realized it until I went back, but Paris has always been associated with Amy in my mind. Being there without her just felt wrong.

Of course, I still had an incredible time. It was Paris after all. Having done all of the sites with Amy, I was able to use this weekend to explore the parts of Paris I never got to see. I met up with my friend, Mary, who is studying abroad with NYU in Paris this semester. She took me to her favorite creperie, introduced me to the thousands of Parisian vintage shops, and brought me to the bakery that won the 2013 Best Baguette of Paris competition (I never knew bread could taste that good). My friends and I toured the catacombs, saw Notre Dame, and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle at night.

On my own, I explored the Crypt under the Notre Dame. I stumbled upon a local farmer’s market and later found a flower market that somehow managed to remain colorful and in bloom despite it being winter. I even went to the original Shakespeare and Co. and wrote at the same desk that writers such as Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway, George Orwell, Allen Ginsberg, James Joyce, and many more once wrote in.

Paris was magical. Even if I think the Eiffel Tower is kind of ugly and the streets are crowded with tourists, the city has an air about it that is conducive to magic and romance. Still, no matter how wrapped up I became in this magic, I could not stop thinking about Amy. I will always love Paris and will happily visit again some day. But Paris will forever be “Amy’s city,” and it will never be the same without my sister by my side. 

[homeiswheretheplanelands]

Carnival

Carnivale was incredible. It transformed the otherwise tiny podunk town of Viareggio into the center of excitement and life. Unlike Venice, which is known for the partying and the masks, Viareggio is known for floats. I found the most fascinating part to be that all of the floats had very political and/or social messages. These were not the giant Snoopy and Big Birds of Macy's Day. And I think that made them so much better/more interesting.