An Endless Midsummer's Night

Look at me, blogging on the road. Now, had I been able to do this while I was on my grand European Tour I might not be posting about it fifteen months later. But then again, the "road" I'm on only involves a measly three cities and five days, rather than six weeks and eight countries; more importantly I have my laptop on hand, some spare time, and fifteen months ago I was too busy making the most extraordinary memories of a lifetime to be worrying about blogging. Better yet, as I've said before, getting to relive those fantastical moments is the best part of writing. So here, for your enjoyment and my reminiscent mind, is country number six: Sweden. 

We arrived at a dinky airport on the periphery of Stockholm on the 21st of June, the Summer Solstice, and date of the Swedish Midsummer celebration.

Anyone who knows my best friends and I well will not find it surprising that at my adamant demand we flew nearly a thousand miles to partake in a foreign holiday, mostly because you get to make flower crowns. Anyone who doesn't know us may call us a little crazy, which we are, so that's fair. 

8 tips for falling in love with Paris

The only thing that has been more dragged out than my Euro-trip as a whole, is the four days spent in Paris. To say "I took too many pictures", is an understatement. To say "I can't let go of reminiscing about the splendor that is the City of Light", is just a fact. 

Can anyone really blame me for my infatuation with Paris? Anyone, other than those preposterous people who think Paris is smelly, rude, and overrated? I think not.

So here, despite my nostalgic attachment, is my final post on Paris: our last day and a few tips on how to not be one of the aforementioned, absurd Paris-haters. 

Tip #1: Eat crepes. Specifically, crepes loaded with chocolate and/or Nutella, because no one can sh*t-talk a country that is responsible for this kind of scrumptious treat.   

Cheese: the glue of friendship

It may be many years of friendship (Brooke: 21 years, Lindsey 8 years, Nicole: 4 years) that have bonded me to my best friends. It may be our shared memories, like high school shenanigans and malicious mischief with Brooke and Lindsey, or the past summer we spent backpacking Europe. Nicole and I's college memories of freshman dorm debauchery, road trips, and an 18 hour day at Disneyland probably did a pretty good job of solidifying our bestie status.

However, in all those collective years of amity, my college best friend and my high school best friends never really came together. There was only one thing that could bond my lovely ladies together after all this time: ooey gooey melted cheese. 

Adios Spain

When it came time for my last day in Spain, I descended (via sketchy bus) from Ronda to the seaside city of Málaga. 

Even though I knew I was flying to my next destination from Málaga and therefore would have stop there eventually, I somehow had myself convinced I was only rolling in for the morning and not actually spending a day/night there. I was wrong: I had a whole day! 

So with that I booked a quick bed at the Oasis Backpacker's Hostel and went out into the hot sun to make the most of my wholly unplanned day. 

Barcelona Bites Back

Sometimes unfortunate things can happen while you're traveling, and like in life, you just have to take them in stride and handle the situation. Our second day in Barcelona started well enough, but concluded with a bit of a struggle, in the form of two stolen cell phones. 

We all like to think that we're conscientious enough to not get our stuff stolen. That all those crime alerts about ripped away cell phones are just dumb people not paying enough attention. Really though, it can happen to the best of us, especially when traveling in a foreign country known for its master pickpockets. 

Barcelona sits on the southern coast of Spain, along the Balearic Sea. Brooke, Lindsey, and I thought we would take advantage of a beach day, being the California girls we are. However, though they may be beautiful, Barcelona's beaches are nothing like California. People line every inch of the sand, and there are panhandlers consistently harassing you. 

"Mojito! Mojito! Fresh mojito!" 

The promising start to Barcelona

After a late entry into the Spanish metropolis of Barcelona, the first thing to be found in the morning light was food. A whole warehouse size market of every food to be imagined, to be more exact. 

A day (and night) in Dublin

After 10 glorious days in Greece, I said farewell to Bre and headed off to Ireland. After a long day of travel I arrived at my hostel in Dublin, Abraham House, and hit the hay. 

I had just one day to explore Ireland's capital, so I started off bright and early. 

The Italian Riviera

We stepped off our train (the second time, since we may or may not have originally got off at the wrong stop) into the cool Mediterranean sea air. We weaved through brightly colored buildings down the slope to Santa Margherita Ligure, where the bright mare blu awaited. 

Sharing "La Dolce Vita"

The first weekend I was in Florence I found myself living la dolce vita (the sweet life). With Mom & Jewel in my city, I wanted to show them that same perfect day I had; that first day when I found all my favorite things in Florence. 

We started with what is the essential kick off to any great venture: gelato. Not just any gelato, but the sweet creamy delight that is Gelateria Vivaldi. 

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art my dinner?

They best way to introduce someone to the very essence of Italy is to feed them. Therefore upon arrival, my Mama and Jewel learned instantly that the core of life in Italy is (as we should all know) food. Their first night (hours) in Florence, there was wine, lasagna, and bread. For some reason the entire time I was with these ladies, we were served bread with every meal. It really isn't fair, because contrary to what they now believe, bread is not an everyday gift with your meal. But in any case, I shall stall my rant and move on to the next day. 

After Mama and Jewel got an appropriate amount of sleep (with no jet lag because they took my expert advice of just not sleeping at all until you get to your destination country) we did some general site-seeing. Soon from site-seeing we moved to food-eating, as it was that I had to get to class and needed some lunch. Mom mentioned an appreciation for cured meats, and I knew just the place to take her: La Prosciutteria. 

At this restaurant-not-restaurant you enjoy the company of your neighbors at a shared table while drinking house wine, FREE water, and eating delectable meats & cheeses. It hits the "essence" of Italy on the head, minus the free water thing. That's a novelty. 

La dolce vita

Wake up, it's Saturday morning, and there are not buckets of rain coming down. Easy to make a plan for the day: just meet up with your friends at the over 600 year old Duomo. 

You and your amiche walk down the bustling streets of Florence, alive with people no longer forced to hide from the rain. You're not sure how to get where you're going, but you have a general idea, so you'll find a sign eventually.