"When God tells you to be brave, He will make it work. It won't be perfect. It won't be easy. But it will be your story." -- Annie Downs

“Night flight to San Francisco; chase the moon across America. God, it’s been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air, as close as I’ll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there’s a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that’s so.” 

-- Tony Kushner, Angels in America 

[continued] "A nice coat of "one day's", "if only's" and "maybe next time's" begin to dull our box's colorful packaging. And we aren't closer to deserving that box, nor is life any closer to handing it to us."  --AJM

"We tie up our happiness with satin ribbons, and place it on a shelf, pronouncing to the world that we will open that box, when we deserve it." --AJM

Everything is so complicated.

Violence is a response to fear. Violence is never, ever the answer.

Thoughts.

I have so many thoughts.

I've read and I've listened and the state of the world at the moment is just.. beyond description. The world is breaking. The world is crying.

Social media has never been my platform. So I post nothing beyond pictures, ever. I don't even post jokes or joyous things. While I respect and cheer the people who are able to post and voice their thoughts, their hurt, their exhaustion, I never can. The issues to which people are speaking are not political. They are purely human. Even though I unquestionably want to support and share love, it still feels as though there is a performative aspect to it that's not for me. I don't want my level of frustration, of sadness, of fear, or of exhaustion to have to be phrased well. I don't want it to be paralleled against others. For it to be seen as too much or too little. It is enough. And it is uniquely my own. Even in real life, I don't like feeling strong emotions in front of people. And so I choose to write here.

It's entirely another thing to see friends that are usually more than just vocal on social media and clearly have no issue with it choose to remain silent at this time but that's another post.

I don't know where to start so I'll just begin here:

I was raised to be polite. I was raised to have my actions speak for me. To dress and behave as cleanly as possible. To know when something is wrong and to let my actions speak for why people's race-based perceptions are wrong but never to let my voice raise above a quiet dissent. Because, if I did, I would be seen as Angry. That I would be underscoring people's stereotypes. I was taught that, if I followed all of the rules, everything would fall into place. That I, my family, my friends, my loved ones, would all be okay.

 I was raised to be cautious, perhaps overly so.

Every black family that I know, mine included, has had that conversation. That if an officer confronts you, it's only Yes, ma'am or sir, No ma'am or sir.  To not be out past a certain hour. To always dress well even when I'm going somewhere as basic as the local store so that people don't assume I'm a criminal. Assuming that if you are not beyond courteous, you cannot expect the benefit of the doubt.

All because of the color I was born.

What hurts is that there is no where for me to go. I hear stories of a man in Italy being killed for defending his wife when strangers called her  monkey because of the color of her skin. I'm told of people in India using bleaching cream and staying indoors for months so that they can be light enough to hope to marry well. I'm told of people in the Dominican Republic trying to "advance the race" by marrying people of lighter skin tones and having lighter skinned children. People in China, where I'm likely to go at least once in the upcoming year, treating white foreigners like royalty and black ones like dirt. In the U.S., even among black people, I hear nonsense about #TeamLightSkin vs #TeamDarkSkin. My dark skin is seen as a negative. As something that makes me less beautiful, less desirable. In. Every. Single. Community.

It is so ingrained. No where is safe.

What, I ask, is so poison about my hue that people globally run from it so unabashedly?

Even in Nigeria, my family's home country, I'm my natural, god-given hair is seen as unmanageable, unprofessional, and "bush". I'm asked not if but when I plan on chemically straightening it. Wigs are everywhere because that is what is considered beautiful, sexy. And I have such conflicting opinions because people should be able to do whatever they want to feel beautiful. And yet, where does that perception of beauty and desirability come from?

I don't understand it. People continuously use my skin color as something definitive. If I'm successful, people claim it's because my skin color gave me opportunities as a minority. If I'm not, people see me as just validating the preconceived notions that they already had that, because I'm black, I'm supposed to be lesser. Somehow, my negative results and actions speak for my race. My positive ones only speak for me. I become an exception to the rule.

I'm leaving the country soon and one phrase that I keep hearing is to "be safe." That sentiment implies that I have to practice extra caution upon leaving the States. That the "other" is unsafe. That thought is built upon the idea that home is safe. And yet, especially now, I am continuously reminded that it is not.

I am lucky to have been raised in a microcosm of what many imagine the goal of the United States to be. I was raised in a place where so many cultures and countries mesh into one feeling of home. Where dozens of languages can be heard spoken freely in the local mall.

I used to believe love would conquer all and skin color wouldn't matter. That's what I still want to believe.

And yet. Even in this supposed promised land for race and race relations, dark-skin always finds a way to make life harder.

My cousins, people who grew up under the same house with the same beliefs and the same rules have been stopped by authorities simply because they "looked threatening." At my old summer program of young minorities, mostly black and brown, aiming to become MD/PhDs, even in uniform, we were told not to walk in too bing of groups together because people might see numbers of more than 3-4 as threatening. In general, any non-black people who I connect with on Tinder either talk as though they have a fetish/ pre-conceived notion of how I'm supposed to be or act as though they're doing me a favor by talking to me. Growing up, before I had the chance to meet friends' parents and family members, my friends told me that they were warned to be cautious because I was black. That they weren't allowed to come over to my house. So I learned how to be charming. How to make friends and people like you quickly. So, that of course changed when people met me, my siblings, and my parents but the fact the sentiment existed in the first place hurt. That happens even still. Not as blatantly. But I've noticed that when friends introduce or explain me to their parents, they tend to list my credentials. To list Google and HBP and NU and various leadership positions that I've fought teeth and nail for. As if to justify why I'm "different" and okay to befriend. Even I've caught myself changing my tone of voice and the way I carry myself  as if to say "Don't be afraid." When my parents bought the house I was born and raised in, they had a white family friend express the initial interest for them because they worried that the real estate agent would try to deter them from the neighborhood for because they were black.

Violence does not have to be physical.

Why am I, and people who look like me, assumed bad until proven otherwise?

That is my experience. All this from someone who was taught to be polite, to be quiet, to be likable.

And still, people hold fast to the claim that we as a country are beyond this.

So when people are marching in the streets and saying enough, finally ENOUGH, people ponder a way to make this not about race. To frame people speaking up under the very same preexisting stereotypes and prejudices to which they are protesting and framing them as more violent. That blows my mind. The anti -black sentiment is so real in this country and around the world.There is more widespread outrage when a gorilla is show that when, repeatedly, black people are murdered on camera. When there are dozens of events that we seen on the news, continuously filmed so you can watch them yourself, how can anyone still believe that such things are isolated? These are only what's caught on camera.

One of the uncles that I'm closest to is an officer and I unquestionably respect the importance of law enforcement in our society. But, and this is key, only when done right! Systemic oppression does not mean that there is some overlord actively sending out troops to kill black people. It does not mean that as black people you are entirely free from being accountable for foolish actions. But it does mean that there is a huge, widespread issue that goes deeper than claiming you're not racist because you have a black friend. Being against the racial prejudices and murders that are happening in our society does not mean you are against white people or authorities.

I love people. So much. All people. I really believe that, at the core of humanity, we are good. Of course everyone's life matters. But, right now, so many parts of society are telling me that black lives don't. So all lives won't matter until black lives do. Everything is not fair. Everything is not okay. Don't pretend like it is. Don't tell me race doesn't matter when I've experienced it coloring so many aspects of my life. While I wish it were, love is not currently enough to conquer all.

There are so many ways to justify your own beliefs. You can find articles on either "side" of this blaming and faulting xyz party. But I don't believe there are or should be "sides". When you don't see something happening in your world. Fine. But when someone tells you it is happening look it up. Believe them. And when it's finally brought to your attention, speak up! Act! I just believe that we are all human, all equal, and should treat one another as such. But when that is not the case, as we see presently, we should say something.

Even with feeling all of this, I still have a few issues with the movement. With all of the energy, meaning, and power that it has, I think it has little if any direction. Beyond awareness, which I applaud the movement for bringing to people's attention, what is the goal? How do we plan on getting there? There is so much non-utilized potential. Also, in my experience I think that, too often, some of the loudest voices in the movement are prejudiced against non-black people even if otherwise is claimed. While it is completely valid to want to have spaces for mourning and joy that are strictly black and within the community, people outside of other races who truly want to help, honestly, are often left confused. Do they speak up and voice support or stay quiet and let black people have their space? The contradictions in people's suggestions can lead to paralysis and, once again, that lack of leadership and direction. But until I have a better suggestion, I plan on supporting it.

There are so many race and color issues still happening in this country. Way beyond police brutality. Simply asking people to check their prejudices before shooting to kill is just the most clear, pertinent and lethal threat.

And that's just America. So, so much is messed up in the world right now. I just-- I don't know what to do.

More than Good

Last night was one of those times that was so special, I put my glasses back on so that I could remember things more clearly. I wanted every detail crisp. The street lamps that lit up one by one until they dotted the newly paved path as the sun set behind the trees. The orange-purple of the sky transitioning into a midnight blue then to black as I lay with my feet up and head toward the water just listening, being.

The afternoon was one unexpected surprise after the next. During the early afternoon, I spent about two hours biking and reading on the lawn by the music building. It was finally hot enough that I pursued shade. Around 3 I went to the Fellowship Award Winners Celebration and stood with Clayton, Alex, and Abhi by the food table having shameless amounts of shrimp. The event was well-intentioned but ultimately uncomfortable as the various fellows stood outnumbered with strangers whom they had no clue how they were related to the fellowship office. Even with no clue how the program was meant to play out, awkwardness, even still, quickly dissolved into giggles at the levels of discomfort in the room. I walked out laughing and a great mood.

After, Abhi and I walked to South Beach where we waded up to our knees  into the water and walked the entire span of the beach out and back. At first, the water was freezing but soon it was the perfect contrast to the blistering sun. We still had time so we found a shady spot in the park and laid down for a bit. Quite possibly the perfect way to fill 30 minutes.

After, we went to get free tacos and drinks at an OBON event. The only thing that threw me off was running into M. Within the past few weeks, I’ve reached out several times without getting any effort reciprocated. In other words, a mirror of last year which led to this point in the first place, at least from my perspective. She said something about how I’d changed. And yes, it was framed as a joke. But still, it’s never entirely that, is it? And I thought about it for probably too long. My conclusion is that, while that may be true, I like how I’ve changed. I feel more honest now and less ashamed to be.

I’m not sure whether or not I want to keep reaching out. It makes me sad to have lost someone that was once so important to me but, at the same time, you really can’t go back. People are in your life when they’re supposed to be.

Piks, B& I  stayed until clean up for which we were rewarded with copious amounts of wine. We took it out to the lakefill which is how we ended up staying so late, talking deeply and watching the sunset. It just felt right. The air was at that temperature where it’s not too hot and not too cold and nothing felt like it was missing. I think we stayed for something like 5 hours.

After, we walked back home by way of Plex and I ran into Alexis. Just another layer of serendipity.

B&I found a patch of grass in front of his apartment and we laid down and talked more. I really care about him. A lot. And I could spend hours just being next to him and listening if that could help with some of the things happening in his life. Or any of it.

He knows that there was a point in which I had strong feelings for him. He also knows that, sometimes, I still do. And as I actively try to live a more brave and honest life, I’ve been trying not to invalidate any of my feelings and just kind of let them hang where they are. I’m not trying to pursue him at all. I don’t want a relationship, I know he doesn’t, and I don’t want him to think that I do. It’s just that sometimes there are feelings even though there usually aren’t. I feel different things for different people and, as I get older, the lines are increasingly blurred. I’m not ashamed of it and it is what it is.

When I say I love him, I mean it in the purest way that someone can care for another person, not even romantically at all. He is just so good, to the core of him, and I'm drawn to people like that. I like being around people who challenge themselves to face the hard things head on and people who spread so much joy through their sincerity. But I also know that, in his knowing, there are sometimes complications he could have done without. Weights that were on me, and only me, that I chose to make him bear as well. As though there wasn’t already enough happening. I hate to think that I might be a part of making anything harder.

I wonder if there’s ever a point in life where everything is easy. Something tells me no. But I feel so blessed to be at a point in life where most things are more than good.

Italy, Day by Day: Days 10-12 (April 29-May 1)-- Naples, Capri, & Pompeii

Naples is dusty, y'all. And people were overtly racist and sexist. So we left.

Arriving at the train station, Naples looked much like any other city we've been to. There were shops, people milling around, etc, etc. But upon walking out (and I can say this because it's home), Naples felt like the Baltimore of Italy.

Zoddy was pretty annoyed. Even our hotel room seemed unclean in that they probably hadn't washed the comforters in too long and there was a mysterious couch in our room that we never sat on because of how old and dirty it seemed. Still, I was determined to find something in the city that was redeeming. We're in Italy for goodness sake! I will force a good day if I have to.

So we walked. We walked through the historic district (which was really just lots of spray paint on old buildings and churches) to the sightseeing district (where we saw an old castle and a palace)... and then that was it. That was the sightseeing tour of Naples. On top of that, as we walked, people gave us such dirty looks. Just incredibly mean just for our existing. Old men leered creepily and called out harassments. One of them even shoved his phone in Z's face completely disregarding any conception of space.

But friends, I'm stubborn. So even after walking the miles to get us to where we were, I insisted on continuing on. We eventually made it to the waterfront and there, I started to get why people might find some redeeming qualities in the city. As we walked along the water, hark, what did we hear? English! It felt so good to hear something familiar in a place that had so quickly rejected us for being other. So we followed/ semi-stalked this group of British students further down the boardwalk to some rocks where we ended up hanging out until sunset. We listened to Rihanna and somehow ended up on the topic of people we've loved. I'm not sure if I've ever been in love with someone for real but I got to thinking of the people who I wanted to have something real with. The almosts. And it was kind of nostalgic and warming but also heart breaking. You know you've grown when you start understanding the lyrics to love songs.

In Rome, Z had finally talked to the father/daughter pair that has been in every place that we have (they're on the same Groupon) and they told us that they were going to Capri since they didn't know what to do in Naples. So, our first night, we researched what that was and how to get there. The next morning, we didn't want to explore Naples any further. We woke up, optimistically packed our swimsuits, and headed for the harbor where we caught a ferry to the island of Capri.

OH.
MY.
LORD.

Capri gets it.

Walking off of the ferry, both of us audibly gasped. The island looks like something straight out of a computer background stock image. Colorful buildings lined the hills all the way up the mountain and clouds shifted calm and low over the mountain. Rock beaches lined either side of the dock and people of all races talked and laughed together. There were even multiple interracial couples! Compared to Naples, the contrast was stark. One man tapped Z on the shoulder. "Excuse me?" he said in thickly-accented English. "Yes?" she responded. "I dropped my heart."

I wore capri pants, you know, just to entertain myself.

We spent the morning laying on the rock beach and, when it got too cold later in the afternoon, venturing up to Capri Centrale halfway up the mountain. While we were on the rocks, I laid back and listened to Rihanna (the only music Z has on her phone so the only option) while Z smoked the rest of her vagina weed. Then it was time for part two. Capri Centrale. Ambitiously, I thought it would be a good idea to walk there and save the euros it would cost to take a taxi. GRAVE MISTAKE. A shop owner at the bottom of the path that pointed toward the central part of the island told us it would take about 30 minutes to get to our destination. I brushed it off. 30 minutes compared to all the walking we've been doing this trip? Easy.

I WAS SO WRONG. What the man didn't mention was that it was 30 minutes of VERY STEEP STAIRS AND HILLS WITH NO BREAKS OR WAYS TO TURN BACK. WE F*CKED UP. So, so, unexpectedly exhausting.

Still, eventually we made it to the top and it was worth it for the views. We walked around exploring and trying to blend into the bougie lives of people with money we didn't have but it was honestly so fun. Later, we walked by one of those restaurants that takes pictures of every famous person who eats there. Mariah Carey, Dwayne Wayde, Gabrielle Union, Beyonce and Jay-Z had all spent time there. We got to see how the other half lives and it is beautiful.

For lunch, we stopped at a restaurant that overlooked the water and the sights. They tried to charge us 6.50 euro for water!! At the supermarket, 1.5 liters of water only costs  0.38 euro. Waaaay too opportunistic. So we had out lasagna& pizza without it but still enjoyed taking in the sights.

Finally, sadly, it was time to go. We boarded a different ferry back to Naples, thankful for such an incredible day trip.

On the last day in the city, we had all day before catching an evening flight for which we had to be at the airport at 5. We didn't want to spend any more time in Naples so in the morning, we woke up early and caught a train to Pompeii! The excavation site is only about 45 minutes away by train so it wasn't too stressful to get there and back in time for our flight.

On the way into the site, we learned that since it was the first Sunday of the month, entrance was free. First hint that I was going to like this place. Upon walking in, you are immediately transported in time. The beginning of the excavation site opens up in a large field featuring 15ft tall statues that somehow survived the travesty. As you walk around, you are able to go directly into the main forum, people's houses, even the brothel and see what remains. 

Everything was interesting but what stayed with me the most was the mental image of the garden of fugitives. Toward the end of site, you can go into this grassy area where they found 13 bodies preserved in volcanic dust-- men, women, children. Apparently, they were the furthest from the rest of the city and were running toward the sea. Their body positions, forever preserved exactly as they were, made the horror of what happened in that city much more real to me. One women had her knees to her chest and her hands covering her face as she cried. A couple lay with their body casts intertwined in one last embrace. 

Another strange thing about Pompeii-- all of the dogs. For some reason, there were almost a dozen random, ownerless dogs found in various parts of the ruins: gardens, homes, even inside the Egyptian art exhibit. And they were all just sleeping. We saw one dog reminiscent of Michelangelo's mascot run from place to place but eventually it disappeared. Just a strange and eerie detail. It almost made me thing they were the ghosts of the dogs that died in the tragedy. 

Last stop: Palermo, Sicily. Then back home (or to school anyway). I love it here but honestly I'm also ready to go back and spend some time with friends. Crazy to think by the time I get back, there will only be five Saturdays left at NU. One of which I'll be gone for orientation and another, Dillo. Starting to feel this acceleration.

Italia, Day by Day: Days 7-9 (April 26-28) -- Roma at last!

Rome is getting pretty close to Vienna in the race for my favorite city.

I've never been so speechless to be in a city before. There is just so much HISTORY here. Ancient, Medieval, Renaissance, Modern-- this is truly the living city.

Yesterday, we did the usual drill of walking and exploring until we physically couldn't anymore. The closest site to the hotel on the map that they gave us was Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore so we decided to start there. We hung out for awhile until our attention was drawn by several nuns and men of the church assembling for some sort of procession. Apparently, it was the 150th anniversary of some event for Our Lady of Perpetual Health. The church was mirroring a procession that had originally started the church. Soooo we decided to join then in their march. We didn't blend but we didn't care. Along the way, Z&I met this woman who explained everything that was happening so that we didn't march blindly. At the end of the procession, the men and women of the church walked up the steps of a different church to begin mass and we went our separate way. It was raining as we walked but as we looked back at the church, the sun was shining over its peak. That's stuff you can't make up.

After the church we continued to Fontana del Tritone then Trinita dei Monti where a man handed us roses at the top of the Spanish Steps. My idealistic self truly just thought the old man was being romantic and kind so I took the roses-- 3 each for Z&I. Being given a flower randomly in the streets of Rome is the dream, right? Apparently not. We started walking away and the man started yelling asking for money. We realized our mistake and tried to return the roses but he wouldn't take them. So I gave him all of the goings that I had. Something like 2.60 euro. He took back 4/6 roses and left us with one each. Neither of us even wanted them anymore but it is what it is.

We continued our trek to Piazza del Popolo then back to Piazza della Repubblica and Terme di Diocleziano. To end the day, we had a delicious and cheap dinner at a nearby Kebab shop. 1 euro per item so, needless to say, we feasted.

This morning, Z& I went for a walking tour. Our tour guide wasn't as adorable as in Florence but she was a trained historian and knew her stuff. Every corner we turned, there was a new piece of history right there, in perfect condition and completely accessible. The city even goes as far back as to have original Egyptian basilisks in the centers of several squares. The most amazing building that we got the chance to learn about and interact with was the Pantheon. It's an old Roman temple that directly translates to "All the Gods". We walked inside and I touched the same walls that people did over 2000 years ago. Unreal.

The tour ended at the bridge that leads to Vatican City. Last time we called, our dad asked us if we could ask for a blessing from the Pope so we decided to test our luck. It's Wednesday so the Pope had audience earlier this morning so maybe he was still around.

Upon reaching the Vatican, we decided to just commit and go for the full audio guided tour through the Vatican museum, to the Sistine Chapel, and ending at St. Peter's Basilica. The tour was extremely pricey but it included tickets to restricted areas and a sweet and helpful tour guide so we went for it. While on the tour, I met this girl Elaine who is a second year art history major in school in Hong Kong so I was excited to get her contact information and know someone when I get there in September. But by the end of the tour, I was so blown away by everything that I forgot.

The museum was really wondrous. There was one long gallery in particular that stood out for me. The ceilings are all painted flat but the artists that worked on them had such mastery of depth that everything looks like a 3D marble masterpiece. That was the final hall that led into the Sistine Chapel. I prayed for so many people in that church. Hard. Myself included. The bible says where many are gathered in prayer, there God will be. I'm not Catholic but I wasn't about to waste my chance to pray in the holiest place in the world. Once we left the chapel, we exited into St. Peter's Basilica where I prayed again. Not cutting any corners here. The church was just so grand. Everything larger than I thought it would be.

The pain from walking so much today was unreal. My flat feet have always bothered me but today was unparalleled. I guess it helps that I can say I walked to a different country today. With the tour and getting a present for our dad from the Vatican, we were down to 2.10 euro collectively from what we had brought with us for the day. We hadn't had any lunch so on the walk back home, we spent 2 euro to split a lemon flavored pound cake from a bakery that had helped us with directions. One .10 euro coin left. The last goal of the day was Fontana di Trevi and I refused to leave without throwing a coin in. But there was literally one coin and two of us. Luckily, a nearby pizza shop helped us out and let us split into two 5 cent coins. So it happened. I put as much of my heart into the coin as possible and made my wish. I hope it comes true and that I come back to Rome again.

Finally, we made it back to the hotel. Z is obsessed with eating McDonalds in every country she visits so that she can compare so she got that for dinner and I went to a restaurant and got a margarita pizza to go. Tomorrow's our last full day in the city then just a morning before we leave for Naples/Pompeii. Somehow, I already miss Rome.

Anyway, I plan on taking full advantage of the time I have tomorrow. I'm currently giving myself a foot massage to make my feet functional again for another day of abuse.

(next day)
We tried to go on a walking tour of the Colosseum and surrounding but we were too tired and gave up. Still, we gathered enough energy to get ourselves to the Colosseum for a self-guided tour! SO COOL to be near the original gladiator battles. I felt like some corrupt queen watching people suffer for entertainment as I stood looking out over the arena. Is that dark? Probably. But it also somehow still felt pretty powerful/ empowering.

After, we stopped for lunch at a random place on the way to the Spanish Steps where I got a very mediocre beefsteak for too many euro. The entire meal, Z&I were trying to psych each other up for the walking tour we planned but soon realized it was dumb to make ourselves do something neither of us were looking forward to while on vacation. Sooo instead we snuck onto a bus and got a ride back to near our hotel where we bought two super cheap bottles of wine from a grocery store and then went back to our room for a good ol' Netflix night. We couldn't decide on a movie so Z watched Divergent on her phone and I watched The Kids are All Right on my laptop. Though we were watching different movies, it was still fun to do wine together. At some point, when we were setting aside clothes for the next day, Z disapproved of my past knee-length skirt and said I looked like a Baby Grandma/Grandma Baby and I was so tired/drunk I died laughing. Given the images those form in my head, I'm not sure which is worse.

The next morning, we had to catch an early train but we wanted to visit Trevi Fountain once more when we actually had euros to make real wishes. When we got to the fountain, it was off because they were cleaning out all the coins. Apparently, Trevi collects upwards of 3500 euros a day from people's wishes. They shut down the fountain for an hour a day to clear them out and then donate the money to charity.

We wanted to wait until the fountain was gushing again before making our wishes. I've been told it's bad to tell people what you wish for but let's just say I've never wished so hard on a coin before. I shut my eyes tight and put my all into it before tossing it over my shoulder. Let's home it comes true.

Until then, Rome, you have my heart.

Italia, Day by Day: Days 4-6 (April 23-26) -- ~Firenze~

Florence, Firenze, Tuscany, whatever you call it, I'm in love.

It's been rainy for most of the time that we've been here but still gorgeous

When we arrived, we took a cab to the hotel and dropped off our bags. Z wanted to be high so she smoked vagina weed. I tried to forget how she transported it and had a few hits as well. After we were sufficiently giggly/relaxed, we walked to the Accademia del Galleria where we saw David. The sculpture truly is spectacular. And much larger than I expected. It's so perfectly detailed down to each muscle ripple and the veins in his arm. After checking that off, we explored a bit more and saw Duomo for the first time. The church rises over everything as the tallest and most distinctive part of Florence. It was closing for the day so we only had time to go inside the church but we bought tickets to climb to the top of the dome the next day. The day went quickly and it was already late so we went back to the hotel and started watching Prisoners on Netflix as we made plans for how to tackle the next few days.

The next day was walking tour day. We had two lined up-- one Renaissance themed and one Medici themed. Our tour guide was adorable. His accent was strong but he was confident and loved pointing out tiny details. At the end of each stop before we would move to our next location, he would say "Let's go! In that direction" then nod officially and march forward leading with his bright blue umbrella. He told us about a street sign artist who made each traffic symbol his personal canvas and about how the Medici family owned basically everything in the city. By the end of both tours, we had walked over 8 miles. But it was still only afternoon so we went to a couple of the spots featured on the tours. First, we explored the underground remains of an ancient theater then the museum and battlement tower that was built over it. Layers and layers to this place.

But the night was not yet over. We waddled and limped our way to well earned dinner and ended the night at a local restaurant about a half mile from the hotel where we devoured fresh gnocchi and spaghetti carbonara. A+++.

The next day, we climbed to the top of the Duomo. The line took over an hour but eventually we made it to the top and we saw the art on the dome up close. There's a very detailed scene of the second coming with so much going on. On the level closest to you as you walk up, you see the devil and all of the demons attacking the people in hell and at the very peak of the dome is the small but crowded heaven. After, we saw the Duomo museum which was statues on statues.

Today, we decided that a trip to Tuscany wouldn't be complete without a wine tour of the Chianti region. Around 1, Z& I hopped on a bus with a tour group full of rather obnoxious study abroad students and a few couples and hoped for the best. It was raining earlier but as we drove out of th city, we were finally able to experience the Tuscan Sun. The first winery was incredible. Their definition of "tasting" wine was willing up the glass with three different types of wine made in their own vineyard then refilling your glass whenever you asked. On top of that, they let us taste about 5 types of cheese and sauce pairings as well as some A+ salami. Our hostess was this super lovable woman who would never speak over the crowd, she just waited and hoped that people would quiet down. Still, I'm curious about her. She seemed to know some sort of secret and had her tongue pierced so I just honestly want to see what she's like on the weekend.

After the first winery, we took a short trip to a quaint town nearby. We had about 40 minutes to kill there so Z and I walked around, exploring a church and a fountain near the main square.

On the way to the last winery, our bus ran into a parade. Today (April 25th) is a national holiday in Italy -- Liberation Day. From our seats, we could see a parade of people in medieval clothing and stilts marching happily through the streets. Z was particularly intrigued by the part of the parade that featured two performers twisting a white cloth in a number of complex spins.

Finally, we got to the second winery/vineyard. The man there was attempting to go for a Cassanova/sexy-Italian-man-who-owns-his-own-vineyard-in-Tuscany-and-can-sweep-you-off-your-feet thing but didn't do the best job of it. His shirt was buttoned 3 buttons too low and too small so it popped out of his pants and we had eye-to-eye contact with his hairy belly button. Z&I were sitting front and center and he kept winking at us and rubbing our shoulders. We both have expressive faces and couldn't hide our less than favorable thoughts. But there was wine, olive oil, vinegar and cheese so, ultimately successful. Also, the owner had a huggable friend named Leonardo who took all of the owner's jokes kind-heartedly and saved the day.

After, the tour bus made one last stop at a castle in the mountains of Tuscany. After, we were off. The wine hit me late and I passed out for the majority of the trip back but stayed awake just enough to catch the sunset over the Tuscan hills.

Tomorrow is Rome and I'm the most excited for this part of the trip because I know and recognize the most about the trip. Can't wait to see what twist this city throws at us. I'm up for it!

Italia, Day by Day: Days 2&3 (April 21-22)– VENEZIA!!!

THIS CITY IS GORGEOUS LAWD

When we first rolled in yesterday, we had the experience of fighting through customs in a tourist utopia. The line to the customs officers filled an entire corridor. And when I say filled, I mean wall-to-wall, no lines in sight. Still, it was kind of fun. We caught a taxi to our hotel and it all finally felt real. I sleep well on planes and was excited to get started immediately but Z was exhausted. She insisted on a nap before we took on the town.

So, 2 hours later, we started walking around Venice. This city is unlike any I’ve seen before. The taxi took the only road from the mainland into the city. Other than that, no one here really has cars. Canals connect the city so people own their own boats instead.

I insisted on signing up for a free walking tour in every city that we go to in order to understand more about it than just their beauty. Unfortunately, the first one was 3 hours and wasn’t the best. The tour guide studied art history here and kinda seemed like a recluse (that might be rude in retrospect) but, to summarize, not the most interesting tour. We walked around a lot of back alleys to remote parts of town and looked at super tiny details of things. But one thing she said did stick with me. To notice the details. Venice is chock full of them. For example, any architecture that features a lion with an open book means that that piece was built during times of piece. A lion with a closed book signifies a time of war.

There’s this statistic I heard on the walking tour that, on any given day, there are 50,000 native Venezians and 85,000 tourists. As a result, the entire economy here basically revolves around tourism. Even the “less touristy” parts of town are just a 2-5 minute walk from more swarming foreigners.

So after some ~learning~ we walked around, found a nice restaurant on the river, and split lasagna and pepper pasta. Z got Spiritz, a famous Venezian drink and, later I got this BOMB mango gelato.

In the morning, we were on our own so we decided to get lost. To stock up, we filled our stomachs and bags with food from the hotel’s morning buffet—i.e. ham, yogurt, tea, and croissants on croissants. Next, I wanted to go to El Piazzo di San Marco and take in the sights of the water, the museums, and Doge’s Palace. The square opens out suddenly from this dark alley way and oh my goodness it was gorgeous. Giant and open with so much detail in the carvings when you look up. We spent some time walking around in awe and taking pictures until another attraction grabbed our attention—a bird lady. She was tossing broken crackers everywhere and attracting dozens of pigeons and laughing as they swarmed her. One even landed on her arm.

Z& I saw this and immediately followed suit. The croissants we had packed in our bags, previously intended as a quick afternoon snack, now became fuel for a half hour of attracting birds and trying to get them to land on us. 10/10 would imitate the woman from Home Alone again.

Later, we continued walking along the water until we found a nice place to sit, soak in the sun, and nap. Later, we found a nice outdoor café and had margarita pizza and white wine for lunch.

To end the day, Z convinced me to splurge and ride a gondola. When in Rome, right? Or Venezia, rather. I was trying to be frugal but it’s been on my bucket list since I was in 10^th grade to ride a gondola in Venice so I just decided to put in a few extra hours at work the week I get back to E-town and just completely engage now. Our driver was this super attractive man named Diego who was born and raised in the city and would tell us super interesting facts as we floated by different buildings. That’s the great thing about Europe. Everything is so old that the layers of history in a place that you might not have noticed before astound you.

On the way back, we found a playground. Anyone who knows me knows that when I see swings, it’s a requirement that I go on them before I can focus on anything else. Z is the same. So we both all but ran to them and hung out there for 40ish minutes. The tree next to the swing set had a bunch of people’s names carved into it (mainly couples but I say you have to love yourself first) so I carved mine in as well. It was faint but it felt good to make my mark on Venice.

I decided on the way here that I wanted to have useful souvenirs for once so I found a stand that sold genuine leather bags and haggled my way to a lovely leather laptop bag that I plan to use for years. Thanks to the frugal fam for teaching me! Finally, it was time to go back and rest up before our trip to Florence tomorrow. We watched a bit of Italian iCarly as we went over our schedule and maps and then I sat down to write this! Now it’s time for bed and a new day.

Until then!

Italia, Day by Day: Day 1 (April 20)—Chicago-NYC-Venice

 Today really makes me hope that foreshadowing isn’t a thing in real life. In order to make it to my flight on time, I woke up at 6:15 to catch the 7:04 Purple Line to O’Hare. And that’s where the first struggle occurred. Upon attempting to carry my suitcase over the bannister, my I dropped my phone on the heartless concrete and it shattered. I’ve dropped my phone so many times that I really believed it would be okay when I picked it up. I was so, so wrong. Timing of it sucks with the whole international bit but it is what it is.

Upon arriving to NYC, I was worried about being able to find Z after that whole mishap. But surprisingly for NYC, people were super helpful. One of the travel agents let me use the airport phone to call her. We had a 7 hour layover so we ended up just walking endless laps around JFK. For some reason, every time we took a shuttle or walked into a new terminal, people just really seemed to think we were approachable for some reason. I need to work on my RBF. There were at least 4 conversations in which people asked if we were twins and we decided to just start saying yes.

While walking around the airport, Z started laughing to herself and I wanted to know why. She thought I would be mad but eventually I got her to tell me what it was.

Lord. This child.

This child had WEED IN HER VAGINA.

Since it’s 420 today and she was determined to smoke, her friend taught her how to fill a tampon with weed. So she did, wore it through TSA security and somehow made it. She told me she wanted to save it for one of our beach days but honestly, I’m not sure if I want to smoke that.

After that revelation, it was time to take a break and go to lunch. We got Panda Express with the driest fried rice I’ve had in awhile. While eating, this poor family accidently set off this absurdly loud alarm and ran away before any airport security could track them down.

Now it’s 6pm and we still have 3 more hours until the flight to Venice takes off. Somehow, it still hasn’t hit me where we’re going. And I have a feeling that it won’t until I’m walking off the plane in Italy. Until then, Ciao bellas.