For whatever we lose (like a you or a me,) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

monterosso

vernazza

phil and lil

noice

before

after

thanks, alman.

riomaggiore

I was reunited with my beloved coast this past weekend. We ventured to Cinque Terre, a stunning assemblage of five small sea towns, on the northwest coast of Italy. We stayed for an evening and soaked up the goodness of endless stretches of emerald water, mountain faces littered with colors and linen lines, and that perfect salty air. I savored some for you, Manther. Things could be better with the Moms, but we’re working on it…well, at least until Wednesday night because then Willa and I leave for Vienna and Prague! Just us two wandering souls for the weekend. Then class gets in the way again when we come home early Monday morning.

toes in the water

my kind of tag

gypsies at ponte vecchio

classroom at school

school also has nice stairwells

santa croce: we live just to the left of it

on the third floor

from my bed

a little bit of home

hi mama and daddy, kimee and sierra and phoenix. i miss and love you all very much.

Well, we met her. She has a deeper, but gentle voice, laced with traces of her British English education, hair always pulled back and smoothed, red reading glasses set near the tip of her nose. Although we’ve held friendly conversation concerning things such as our upcoming travel plans, the meanings of our names (she has yet to remember mine and likes to call me Flower) and our classes (which started today), many of our encounters with her have resulted in a fair amount of awkward tension that leave Willa and I to shoot each other bewildered looks (and muffled laughs once we enter the safety of our bedroom). How grateful I am to have her company as we orient ourselves with our host, otherwise I’d probably be much more distraught. We are still learning the do’s and don’ts of living with Annalisa—mostly the don’ts as of late. Possibly, all we need is some more of this getting-to-know-you time, however my daydream of the three of us as a frolicking sisterhood in a Tuscan sunflower field has now become a fleeting thought slipping back into the ether of time. Must channel positive energy. For now, Willa and I will be whispering in our bedroom as we steal wireless internet from the neighbors.

close

We were bussed out of Rome this morning, bore witness to the rolling hills and flat expanses of wilted sunflowers of Tuscany on the four hour journey, and finally arrived in Florence by late afternoon. As the others were settling into their new apartments and meeting their new families for the semester, Willa and I were only to be welcomed by the doors of the Dante Hotel, a street over from our future host mama’s home. A bit of a scheduling mishap, but we will hopefully (and finally) meet her tomorrow after orientation. Until then, moms.

hot and fresh

willa in the warsaw terminal

alive

hotel room

hall of the vatican museum

on the steps of a church

setting intention

st. peter's basilica

a view from the spanish steps

our tour guide likes to dress in one color so we don't lose her. she even coordinated her loofa and mascara.

giddy in some roman ruins

colosseo

had to

museo dell’ ara pacis

an obliging street painter

Much to its dismay, the grave, meat-and-potatoes crew of Lot Polish Airlines carted Willa and me relatively safely into the arms of Rome after our four hour layover in a cold and desolate Warsaw terminal. After long bouts of orienting, touring, and overloading the senses with breathtaking works I have yet to fully process, our charming room at the Hotel Tiziano has served as a little haven amidst the constant ebb and flow of city sights and sounds down below. The hours have slowly melted into days, and my first week away from home has been an eyeful. We leave Rome tomorrow morning, and by the afternoon hours, I will have finally unpacked my life into Florence.

Hustle

central park

michael, pedicab driver and historian

samantha at the metropolitan

west village

butt of a pistol at the metropolitan

metropolitan museum of art

joe the west village artist

Samantha and I have traversed all over the city of New York, a midway point to our final destinations in Europe, visiting famous places and not so famous places, meeting knowledgeable characters, and at times, sensing the great differences of this opposite coast. Kind family friends of the Rams have taken us in, offering some familiar suburban comfort after long days in the heat of a pulsing metropolis. Needless to say, the rain today is more than welcome and has painted a different version of the city that I was fortunate enough to see.

"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"

see you soon.

in summer, the song sings itself.

had a chance meeting with timelessness at the del mar fair.