Ramblings #1

Just the other day a friend told me she wished I would write more. She told me she thought I had a funny way of saying things and she liked it. 

So here's to her and taking the lid off of Pandora's Box because there is no going back now!


I, too, wish I would write more. It's a cathartic release but also one of the hardest puzzles I've ever had to do: choosing the right words and putting them in the correct order so that the meaning in my head matches the point coming across on paper (or a screen). 

I am going to commit myself to writing more. Not necessarily about Italy or travel but just about life in general. But since Italy and travel are a ~big~ part of my life, you can fully expect some of that, too. 

I have always enjoyed writing, though my confidence in my ability has gone through peaks and valleys over the years. Some of my favorite things I have written came about either on a caffeine-fueled adrenaline-surged afternoon during a college finals week or a sudden epiphany at 3AM and hastily transcribed on my phone Notes app using questionable knowledge of the English language. 

I have often tried to put too much thought into what I write, mainly because it used to be done for a grade. But know I'm not writing for a grade. I'm writing for me. And I guess also for whoever else wants to follow along. 

I remember being told in 9th grade English when we were learning about fragmented sentences and dangling modifiers and whatnot we were told we had to learn how it all works in order to break the rules. Well, I think that time has come. 


Stopover in Oslo

One of the nice things of traveling trans-continentally fairly often is finding a place to do a little stop over. This time around I decided to stop in Norway for a few days on my way from the States back to Italy. 

Though I only stayed in Oslo, Norway was breathtaking. And I've heard it only gets better the further north you go. 

If you find your way to Oslo, stay in the Grünerløkka neighborhood. It's hip and cool and has awesome street art (ie: that psychedelic peacock). 

Visit their National Gallery to see Munch's Scream and Rodin's Thinker. 

Go to the Viking Ship Museum to see, well.. a viking ship. 

There are beautiful parks and waterfronts to stroll along. 

Anyways.. Norway is definetly one of those places I'll be returning to some day. 


It's hay season

For those people who know me really well, they know how ironic it is when I say I grew up on a farm. And that's as much as I'm going to say about that right now.

I spent a few days in the Casentino valley of Tuscany last week. The pastures were full and the grass was tall and some was in the process of being cut and baled into hay. I couldn't help but think of my childhood, when I would run through the grass as tall (or taller) as I was. The scent of drying hay that passed through the valley reminded me of sitting on the front porch of my childhood home in the late evening, enjoying that very same scent. I watched a well tanned Italian farmer on a tractor raking the hay into rows about to be baled and remembered learning to drive a machine much like that one, well before I could even drive a car. I watched the farmer pass back and forth across his field in the summer heat and wondered if my dad was doing the very same thing back in Arkansas. And if he remembered to wear sunscreen this time.