Memento Vivire

R E M E M B E R

T O

L I V E .

M E M E N T O “ R E M E M B E R

K E L LY

V I V I R E T O

R E E V E

L I V E ”

I TRAVELED TO Italy for the first time in 2012 on a National Geographic Student Expedition. During my trip, I was

lucky enough to meet a National Geographic photographer and learn the difference between a traveler and a tourist from the most highly respected exploration organization

in the world. Experiencing a new culture is not about the relaxation and comfort of a vacation. It is learning how

others live by accepting their culture, hearing their stories, eating unique foods, and absorbing their ways of life. It requires respect and constant curiosity.

1 3 1 9

C O U N T R I E S 1 1

F L I G H T S

3 0

3

M E T R O 8

T R A I N S

2 2

B U S E S

3

T A X I S

S Y S T E M S

B O A T

R I D E S

2 0 , 4 2 9

M I L E S

4 2

G E L A T O ’ S 3 7 5

1

D A Y S

M I L L I O N

M E A L S

M E M O R I E S

During my semester abroad in the spring of 2016, I carried

in my heart what I had learned about traveling as I ventured out to live in a foreign continent for four months. My home base was Florence, Italy and I had the opportunity to learn

from some of the most passionate people I have ever met at a school called Lorenzo de’ Medici Institute. In addition to

my studies, I visited nine countries including Spain, France, Switzerland, Germany, The Netherlands, Ireland, England,

Austria, and Lichtenstein. I was blown away by the various

characteristics of nearly every city and natural landscape, as well as the people, foods, and hospitality within them.

I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity that I had to study in and travel around Europe for four months. All

of my explorations and stories are encased in this travel journal as a reflection of the 131 days I spent abroad.

Welcome to my adventure!

D AY 1 D AY S 2 - 8 HOME D AY 1 3

B R E A T H E

&

B E

S P A I N F L O R E N C E L U C C A

D AY S 2 7 - 2 8

L I G U R I A

D AY S 3 2 - 3 5

S W I T Z E R L A N D

D AY S 4 0 - 4 2

F R A N C E

D AY 4 6

S A N T A

D AY 5 2

I T A L I A N

D AY S 5 4 - 5 6 D AY 6 3

C R O C E

G E R M A N Y E A S T E R

D AY S 6 3 - 6 6

T H E

D AY S 6 7 - 7 0

I R E L A N D

D AY 7 6 D AY S 8 2 - 8 4

C U I S I N E

S U N D A Y

N E T H E R L A N D S

F I E S O L E E N G L A N D

D AY 8 9

T O P

D AY 9 5

P O G G I O

D AY 9 6

P I A Z Z A L E

D AY 1 1 1

O F

F L O R E N C E A L

C H I U S O

M I C H E L A N G E L O

S E T T I G N A N O

D AY S 1 1 7 - 1 2 1

S O U T H E R N

I T A L Y

D AY S 1 2 1 - 1 2 8

N O R T H E R N

I T A L Y

D AY 1 3 1

H O M E

D A Y

1

B R E A T H E

&

B E

THE DAY BEFORE I left home, my sister-in-law, Grace,

handed me a little envelope with the words “open at the

airport” written on it. As I waited for my plane to board, I unwrapped the letter and found some of the best advice I could have asked for.

“This is a time to take chances, make memories and live in the moment.”

Grace has done a great amount of traveling herself, and as time went on during the semester I began to understand

the wisdom in her words. At the end of the letter she wrote,

“Breathe and be. Be present wherever you go.”

M O N D A Y ,

J A N U A R Y

2 5

M A D R I D

&

B A R C E L O N A

S P A I N

D AY S M A D R I D & B A R C E L O N A ,

2 - 8 S P A I N

L A N G U A G E :

S P A N I S H

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

P L A N E ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

A I R B N B

F O O D :

T A P A S

T R A I N ,

M E T R O

“The best

journeys in life are those that

answer

the

questions

you never thought t o

ask.”

– Rich Ridgeway

The glass castle in Madrid’s Parque del Buen Retiro is modeled after London’s crystal palace, built 36 years prior. It is home to art exhibitions in connection with the Museo de Reina Sofia in Madrid.

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D I S C O V E R Y ON JANUARY 25, 2016, I boarded a plane to Madrid, Spain, where I would meet up with my two friends, Kylie and

Megan. We arrived in the morning on January 26th and set off to navigate the underground metro system to find the air bnb where we would stay for the next three nights.

Instantly, we were humbled by our lack of knowledge of the simple differences in this foreign culture compared to the usual comforts of home. In just the first day, we learned

how to unlock a Spanish door (after quite some struggle),

restaurant etiquette, how to use public transportation, how to read a map, and a few words of Spanish. We were like

little kids as we re-discovered the simple things in life. We were constantly self-conscious and everything required an immense amount of mental effort.

We had planned this trip to Madrid and Barcelona for the week before school started in Italy, and this became our introduction to discovering the basics of European life.

T U E S D A Y ,

J A N U A R Y

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F I R E

R U N

DURING MULTIPLE OCCASIONS over the course of the

semester, we stumbled upon various cultural celebrations.

The Correfoc Festival in Barcelona was our first instance of the excitement of being in the right place at the right time.

The “fire run� is a Catalan tradition that lasts five days.

Devils dance through the streets at night carrying fire-

spewing dragons while onlookers follow dangerously close in their wake. Groups of them also stop at street corners

to build human pyramids that are often four or more people stacked one on top of the other.

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B L A D E

O R

D I E

A GREAT WAY to see Barceloneta Beach is to grab some

wheels. During our first day in the area, Kylie, Megan and

I watched people exercising on bikes, scooters, and roller blades and enjoying the views along the coast.

We couldn’t resist the feeling of a fresh sea breeze blowing through our hair.

The next day we woke up early, made our way to the beach, met some locals working at the rental shop, and went

for a morning “blade” along the beach. The exhilaration,

athleticism, and embarrassment of it all still has us giggling, so we labeled the adventure “Blade or Die.”

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D A Y

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P O R T

V E L L ,

B A R C E L O N A

M U S E O

D E L

J A M O N ,

M A D R I D

D A Y

8

F L O R E N C E

I TA LY

H O M E F L O R E N C E ,

I T A L Y

L A N G U A G E :

I T A L I A N

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

P L A N E ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

C E N T E R - C I T Y

F O O D :

T R A I N ,

L A M P R E D O T T O

B U S

F L A T

“In I t a l y , they add

work

and

life on to

food

and

wine.”

– Robin Leach

D A Y

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P I A Z Z A

D E L

D U O M O

2

F L O R E N C E

ON OUR FIRST day in Florence, Kylie, Megan and I

walked to the main office of our school and retrieved the key for our apartment. After walking the Google maps

route to the address we were given, we found ourselves

in Piazza del Duomo, home to the famous Santa Maria del

Fiore Cathedral. This was one of the churches that we had studied and seen in art history textbooks and it seemed impossible that we would be living right next door.

As we hiked up five flights of stairs, we fully doubted

that our keys would work and figured we must be in the wrong place, but to our surprise, the lock opened and we speechlessly entered our flat.

It felt like we had stepped into a movie.

The floors were tiled in red-orange and white walls

with tall ceilings enclosed the rooms. The ceilings were painted with patterns and figures in Renaissance style and four large windows framed views of the Duomo.

For a good ten minutes none of us could say a word. The flat was perfect. From then on, we decided that if we

ever had a bad day, we would just look out the window at the cathedral and know how lucky we were.

T U E S D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

2

L U C C A

I TA LY

D AY L U C C A ,

1 3 I T A L Y

L A N G U A G E :

I T A L I A N

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

T R A I N

F O O D :

P I Z Z A

S A T U R D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

6

D A Y

1 3

THE HISTORICAL TUSCAN town of Lucca dates back to

the Roman times when a wall was built around the city for military protection. Throughout the centuries, the wall

was expanded and updated for greater defense; however, enemies never tested its structure.

Today, the wall still stands and a pedestrian trail spans the length of its top ridge.

Runners and bikers enjoy the trail for exercise, teenagers

find escapes from parental watch, and tourists soak in the views of the city and its surrounding area.

Inside Lucca’s winding streets stand many brightly colored churches, homes, shops and restaurants. Piazza Anfiteatro is an oval-shaped forum that sits in the heart of the city.

The piazza was formerly a Roman amphitheater where up to

10,000 people could gather to watch games or participate in public meetings.

Lucca’s small-town friendliness is defined by the relaxing

nature of families and friends as they gather on weekends at local art shows and book fairs.

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F E B R U A R Y

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P I A Z Z A

D A Y

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D E

A N F I T E A T R O

Piazza de Anfiteatro is an oval-shaped courtyard that serves as a gathering place for locals and visitors of Lucca.

Restaurants and shops line the first floors and residences stack on top of them.

S A T U R D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

6

L I G U R I A

I TA LY

D AY S L I G U R I A ,

2 7 - 2 8 I T A L Y

L A N G U A G E :

I T A L I A N

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

T R A I N

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

H O T E L

F O O D :

M I G N O N

F O C A C C I A

P O S T A

B R E A D

Twenty years

from now you will be more

disappointed by the things that you d i d n than the ones you d i d d o .

’t do

So throw off the b o w l i n e s , s a i l a w a y from the safe harbor,

c a t c h the trade winds in your sails.

Explore.

Dream.

Discover. – Anonymous

T E R R E C I N Q U E D A Y

2 7

ONE FRIDAY NIGHT in February, we planned a route to

the coastal region of Liguria, Italy. I had been here before

with National Geographic and generally knew where to go.

On Saturday morning, we left for the Cinque Terre, a group of five quaint towns along the bluffs of the sea, without

knowing whether or not we would come back that night. We

went with one thought in mind – to experience the culture of the seaside towns.

When we arrived in Corniglia – the middle of the five towns – we found it deserted except for one small café serving

pizzas and paninis. This was off-season for the picturesque

towns, which thrive on summer tourists, and only a handful

of people were out exploring or tending to the terrace farms.

After a quick meal of focaccia sandwiches, we hiked up

the cliffs, through olive groves and vineyards to the next

brightly colored village, called Vernazza. We knocked on the doors of a few tiny hotels to inquire about a bed to sleep in for the night, but due to the winter season, we found that none were open. As a solution to our lack of planning, we

decided to eat gelato and watch the sun set over the water.

We were engulfed by the vast blue Mediterranean in front of us, and embraced by the sleepy little town hanging from the cliffs behind us.

Although we could have stayed there, hypnotized by the

water forever, we eventually decided to move on and find a place to stay for the night. We caught a train to a town farther up the coast to the north, called Rapallo.

S A T U R D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

2 0

R A P A L L O RAPALLO IS A small city that boomed on tourism from its seaside resorts in the 1950s and 60s. Today, outdated yet

still classy restaurants stretch the length of the harbor. The seafood is served fresh and delicious, straight off the boats that are moored there.

Rapallo sits between tall rolling hills and a horseshoe

shaped bay. Charming old couples who take up benches

by the sea set the pace for the city’s character, and a flea

market by the beach invites families and children to shop for antique goods and used toys. Both the women and men seem to have an unspoken competition for the most stylish winter coats, as everyone, it seems, makes a fashion statement.

S U N D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

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D A Y

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S A N T A

M A R G H E R I T A

L I G U R E

AFTER A COUPLE hours of exploring in Rapallo, we decided to catch the 1 minute and 30 second train ride to the next

town, Santa Margherita Ligure. Upon arrival, we noticed a

large white tent, from which loud music was playing, set up in the center of the town. It was ready for a festival, but no one had yet shown up for the party.

We continued to walk around Santa Margherita Ligure

and admired the cheerful looking sail and fishing boats

lingering in the harbor. We reached the end of the line of boats and planted ourselves on a dock to once again be enthralled by the waves.

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F E B R U A R Y

2 1

D A Y

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C A R N E VA L E ONCE WE WERE too chilled by the sea breeze to stay by

the water any longer, we got up to find a small coffee shop

for a few minutes of warmth. When we left the shop, to our

surprise, we saw a parade, erupting with confetti, making its

way towards us. Led by a marching band of angels and devils, and followed by bikini-clad, middle-aged men and their

tropical float, the parade was in celebration of the last day of Italy’s Carnevale, which takes place in February.

Children were dressed in costumes, families followed the parade all the way to its ending, and marchers threw fistfuls of confetti as they passed.

After covering the main street with so much shredded paper that the concrete was no longer visible, the parade stopped at the large white tent that we had misjudged when we

arrived. Everyone in town seemed to be participating in the celebration and they were now serving hot chocolate and

french-fries from the tent. The giddy spirit of families and friends was contagious and we are still finding confetti in our clothes and backpacks from the trip.

S U N D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

2 1

S W I T Z E R L A N D

I N T E R L A K E N

D AY S I N T E R L A K E N ,

3 2 - 3 5 S W I T Z E R L A N D

L A N G U A G E :

G E R M A N

C U R R E N C Y :

C H F

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ; A C C O M O D A T I O N : F O O D :

C H A R T E R S W I S S

B U S

Y O U T H

F O N D U E

&

H O S T E L

C H O C O L A T E

...started the day with a bowl of

BirchermĂźesli,

Wilderswil to W e n g e n to Klein Scheindegg, took a train from

took the

E i g e r n o r d w a n d lift, got lost in

Eigergletscher, and skiied the

Jungfrau.

While wandering through the neighborhoods of Interlaken, we discovered beautiful Swiss houses like this one framed between the towering mountains.

D A Y

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P I C T U R E

P E R F E C T

ON THURSDAY NIGHT Kylie, Megan and I caught an overnight bus to Interlaken, Switzerland with a large group of other students.

We arrived at the Swiss Youth Hostel around 6 a.m., took a short

nap, and started the day with a bowl of Swiss birchermüesli, fresh baked bread, and home-made jam.

Friday was our day to explore the town and surrounding area.

We started down the river walkway to one of the lakes that

sandwiches the city. There is no other way to describe it than

“picture perfect.” You can Google Switzerland for hours and never believe that a place could look so beautiful, but I’ve seen for myself, the country is nothing less than flawless.

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F L A W L E S S AFTER WATCHING PARAGLIDERS gently float down from

the mountaintops; exploring the shops, green spaces, and waterways; and indulging in olive bread sandwiches, we

decided to learn the train route to the ski slopes. The hostel

had given us free train tickets and we asked the desk worker at the station which destinations we could reach with them.

She spoke rough English scattered with long, complicated German names, and we somehow concluded that she was

telling us we could take any of the trains one-stop in each direction. The next one was leaving in 5 minutes.

Without double-checking our decision, we hopped on the train. The screens inside said that the next stop was 15

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minutes away at a place called Brienz. We crossed our

fingers hoping nobody would ask to see our tickets because on second thought, we decided that they probably weren’t valid for that route.

However, spur of the moment decisions always seem to turn into great memories.

The train curved along the length of the crystal clear lake

between towering mountains and ended in the less populated town of Brienz. The view over the lake and between the alps was majestic as we watched the day turn to dusk.

F R I D A Y ,

F E B R U A R Y

2 6

D A Y

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J U N G F R A U SATURDAY WAS THE day I had been waiting for since I signed up to go to Europe. I got to ski in the Jungfrau region of the Swiss Alps. The girls and I rented skis, met up with some

friends from Kansas State University, and caught a train to the top of the mountains. The slopes led us down steep, powdery

passes, along a creek and through the trees towards the town of Grindelwald. At the bottom of the runs, people gathered in lines for the lifts, chattering in German and other languages.

The skiers and snowboarders swiped lift tickets at the gates and shuffled into the chair swings that gently graced them

into the air, above the powdery snow, and left them off at the start of their next adrenaline rush.

By 5:00, the slopes turned icy and people shifted their paces to socializing at bars and restaurants on the mountain. The

local crowds seemed on top of the world as they celebrated

the completion of another seasonal weekend soaking in the rush of swerving down the chilly terrain.

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N I C E

F R A N C E

D AY S

4 0 - 4 2

N I C E ,

F R A N C E

L A N G U A G E :

F R E N C H

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ; A C C O M O D A T I O N : F O O D :

C H A R T E R V I L L A

B U S

S A I N T

C R E P E S

E X U P É R Y

D A Y

4 1

M E S M E R I Z I N G WE HAD TOSSED around the idea of traveling to France during the week but didn’t take any action until Friday

morning when we woke up, drank some coffee, and decided to buy bus tickets. We booked a hostel and planned our activities when we got to there.

Most of this spontaneous trip was spent sitting by the ocean, watching the mesmerizing waves as they crashed into shore.

S A T U R D A Y ,

M A R C H

5

F L O R E N C E

S A N T A

C R O C E

IN AN EFFORT to contribute to a country that has given me so much, I gave tours to English speaking visitors of the

Santa Croce church in Florence through the Ars Et Fides

Firenze program every Thursday morning. I learned about

the history of the church through an orientation session and also through my Italian Renaissance History class.

The Franciscan people who followed the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi built Santa Croce in Florence in 1294.

The church is home to the tombs of Michelangelo and

Galileo as well as famous renaissance paintings by Giotto

and sculptural pieces by Donatello and Vasari. The artistic pieces in the church illustrate religious stories and the beliefs of the renaissance people. In its 722 years, the

church has seen many damages and restorations, one of

which was caused by the flooding of the Arno River in 1966.

Numerous burial sites of Florentine people rest below the church’s floors.

During the course of my tours, I educated many people

about the history of the church and met people from all

over the world, including, Ukraine, Whales, New Zealand,

England, Pennsylvania, Washington, Russia, Kansas, Texas, Louisiana, California, and Germany.

T H U R S D A Y ,

M A R C H

1 0

M U N I C H

G E R M A N Y

D AY S M U N I C H

5 4 - 5 6 G E R M A N Y

L A N G U A G E :

G E R M A N

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ; F O O D :

C H A R T E R

B U S

S C H N I T Z E L

G E R M A N Y

THE JOURNEY TO Germany was not an easy one,

prostitutes stepping into their client’s cars,

well worth the ride. Megan, Lizzie and I planned

with invalid passports got kicked off the bus, and

but visiting Munich and its surrounding areas was to take a bus directly from Florence to Munich, but got confused by Europe’s 24-hour time. Long story short, we missed our bus, and found another one

that took twice as long. We stopped in Bologna and

switched buses, stopped in Milan where we observed

stopped at the German border where two people

finally arrived in Germany after a long afternoon

and all night. Our eyes and hearts were opened to the realities of the world during that journey and

we found many reasons to be thankful for our own simple and fortunate lives.

F R I D A Y ,

M A R C H

1 8

N E U S C H W A N S T E I N

ON SATURDAY MORNING we took a two-hour train ride

to the mountains surrounding Neuschwanstein castle – the

one that inspired Disney’s castle. King Ludwig II of Bavaria built it as a fantasy escape from the reality of his duties in Munich in the late 19th century. He was young, had very little political experience, and was more interested in

new technologies, performance art, and the idea of a holy

kingdom. Every wall, crack, and crevice of the interior of his castle was decorated, which reflected his interests in the

arts. Ludwig spent more time in the mountains than he did serving as head of state and was eventually dethroned in

1886. The next day, he mysteriously died in Lake Starnberg with the psychiatrist that declared him insane.

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D A C H A U FOR THE SECOND time in two days, the three of us were deeply humbled when we visited the Dachau

Concentration Camp on Sunday morning. Dachau was the

first concentration camp in Germany and it hosted 200,000

men in the 12 years between 1933 and 1945. 41,500 of them were killed. The entrance displayed the words “arbiet macht frei,” meaning, “work sets you free.” Gas showers, burning ovens, and mass graves became a reality for us when we walked through each area of the camp.

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Crowds watch as surfers glide back and forth on an artificial wave made by an underwater dam connected to the bridge. They surf as long as they can, then fall downstream and the next person takes a turn.

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E N G L I S C H E R

G A R T E N

M U N I C H MUNICH IS A beautiful, well-kept city with the perfect mix of modern and old architecture and design. The buildings are spread out enough to make the city feel breathable,

yet landmarks are within walking distance of each other.

Englischer Garten is the city’s gorgeous public park where

people get exercise running the trails, playing soccer in the open fields, and surfing on an artificial wave in the river.

Others relax with a picnic and friends or gather at the beer garden beneath the 25-meter tall Chinese tower. Munich’s

food resembles home-style cooking and every schnitzel and B E E R

G A R T E N

pretzel is made with authenticity.

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M A R C H

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FLORENCE TRADITION

E A S T E R

S U N D A Y HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE assembled at the front steps of the Santa Maria del Fiore cathedral on Easter Sunday to watch

the “Scoppio del Carro,” or “Explosion of the Cart,” For over 350 years, people have congregated outside the cathedral during mass, starting at 10:00 a.m.

People dressed in elaborate historical clothing threw flags and beat drums in the square between the cathedral and the baptistery in preparation for the explosion The Florentines led two white oxen with bouquets of

flowers adorned on their heads into the center of the piazza.

They pulled a three–story tall wooden carriage, built in

1622. At the end of the service, “Gloria” was sung inside

the church and the Archbishop lit a rocket disguised as a

dove (representing the Holy Spirit) that was tied between the cathedral and the carriage. The dove swung down a

cord to light the carriage, which erupted with fireworks.

The explosions lasted for about 15 minutes. Tradition says

that if all of the fireworks explode properly, the Florentine people will have good luck for harvest.

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F L O R E N C E

S U N D A Y ,

M A R C H

2 7

&

A M S T E R D A M

N E T H E R L A N D S

E I N D H O V E N

D AY S E I N D H O V E N & A M S T E R D A M

6 3 - 6 6 N E T H E R L A N D S

L A N G U A G E :

D U T C H

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

P L A N E ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

S H E L T E R C I T Y C H R I S T I A N H O S T E L

F O O D :

T R A I N

C H I C K E N

S A T E

E I N D H O V E N

WE NEVER PLANNED to go to Eindhoven because

and modern. A section of exposed brick with a neon

to avoid flying into the design-forward, high-tech,

side of the restaurant, whose ceilings towered three

we didn’t know anything about it. In fact, we tried modern, inspiring, gorgeous city in order to take a

more convenient route into the more widely known, Amsterdam. To say the least, we were blown away with design inspiration during the 24 hours that we spent in the city. Most of our time was spent wandering the city streets and neighborhoods on foot, and occasionally stopping to immerse

ourselves in the flawless interiors of coffee shops, boutiques, and restaurants.

On Sunday night, we spent three hours taking in the perfection of De Vooruitgang, a restaurant without an inch of space left un-designed. The tables were made of beautiful oak wood with black wrought

iron legs, and the trendy mix of chairs were upscale

“secret garden” sign and a plant wall made up one

stories high. An enormous bar spanned the length

of the opposite wall. Wooden boxes created dividers for various liquor bottles, and steel staircases zigzagged up to catwalks. The staircase continued up into the ceiling, from which a blue light seeped,

creating the effect of a never-ending stack of drinks.

The bottles were neatly organized and lit with

golden beams produced by ceiling spotlights and

under cabinet light fixtures. The upstairs loft was a comfortable lounge and other quarters of the

restaurant were themed and modern. The food and beer were just as stylish as the interior and the

waiters and waitresses seemed happily surprised to speak English to us.

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M A R C H

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E I N D H O V E N

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A M S T E R D A M

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A M S T E R D A M EVERYONE THAT GOES to Amsterdam comes back with his or her own impression of the city. I would describe two different parts of the city in two different ways…

The city center felt like it was built by a drunken, dirty

sailor. That’s not to say that I disliked it or undermined it as a community. The history, tilted buildings, dirty

houseboats, mossy canals, and prostitutes all contributed character to the city. Amsterdam was first established in the 1200s as a fishing village and houses were built on wooden foundations.

The areas outside of the city center were design centric and modern. Beautiful cafés, art museums, and newer, well-kept buildings make up the “suburbs” of Amsterdam. One café

called Hütspot shared the same interior design genius as the eateries in Eindhoven.

Our good friend, Liz, met us at the train station in

Amsterdam to travel with us for our spring break. After

catching up for lost time with her, we set out to discover Amsterdam. We visited Anne Frank’s house to see the

hidden space that kept her family safe for over a year,

explored the modern art museum, took a boat canal tour, walked around the red light district, and enjoyed some

delicious meals together before catching a plane to Ireland.

W E D N E S D A Y ,

M A R C H

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D U B L I N

&

D I N G L E

I R E L A N D

D AY S D U B L I N

&

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D I N G L E ,

I R E L A N D

L A N G U A G E :

E N G L I S H

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

P L A N E ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

R A I N B O W

D R I N K :

T R A I N ,

G U I N E S S

B U S

H O S T E L

You will n e v e r be c o m p l e t e l y

at home again, because part of

your heart will always be

elsewhere, that is the p r i c e you p a y for the

r i c h n e s s of l o v i n g and k n o w i n g

p e o p l e

in more than one

p l a c e . – Miriam Adeney

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I R E L A N D IRELAND BECAME ONE of my favorite places in the

entire world because of the beauty of the country, polite

hospitality, and friendliness of the people. My friends and I started our visit in Dublin for a half day, took a train to

Dingle on the other side of the country, and ended in Dublin for another half day before we went back home to Florence.

Every single moment of our trip made us smile.

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T H U R S D A Y WE STARTED THIS day at a cheap hostel in Dublin where we ate breakfast and wandered around the city. We had to catch a train by midday so time was limited. Luckily Kylie had been to Dublin on a previous trip and knew

the highlights of the city. Naturally, as college kids, we

followed the signs for Guinness and went to the famous

Temple Bar where Kylie and I shared a beer (for breakfast).

After this, we gathered our backpacks and caught the train and then a bus to a small town called Dingle.

As the bus pulled into Dingle, a car marked for the Rainbow Hostel also drove up. A man around 30 years old wearing a stocking hat and rain jacket stepped out of the drivers seat (on the right side) and opened the trunk of the car.

“Elizabeth� he said as we walked up, expecting that we were his last guests to arrive on the day.

We were pleasantly shocked by this unexpected first impression of generous hospitality.

Odin drove us along the bay and up the hill just outside of

town, about a mile from the bus stop and parked the car in

the driveway of a large cabin. The rooms each had six bunk beds and were all connected to a central kitchen stocked

with cooking supplies and furnished with a wooden table

and chairs. We claimed our beds, put our backpacks down,

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and Odin offered to drive us back into town to get dinner.

He gave us a quick tour of the town, pointing out bike rental shops, small-town bars, restaurants, and attractions. Dingle seemed to be a friendly little Irish fishing town.

Odin dropped us off at a restaurant called John Benny’s Pub that served fish & chips and fresh Guinness.

After dinner we stopped in at a bar up the street where

we attempted to show off our talents at pool, then went

to the bar next door to listen to the traditional Irish band that was playing. We stayed until the bar closed at 11:30.

Everyone else had left and the bartender sat down next to us to find out why five college girls were in Dingle in the

middle of March. He shared some Irish history with us and

told us about all of his ancestors that were stars in movies over the years.

After the red-headed bartender kicked us out for the night, we caught a cab back to the hostel and asked the driver about the famous “Fungie the dolphin” that the town is

famous for. The dolphin has lived in the harbor for around 30 years and makes the town a lot of money from the boat

tours that take visitors to see him. The driver jokingly told

us, “Yep, I know his name, address and phone number… he’s been around a number of years!”

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F R I D A Y WHEN WE WOKE up the weather was gloomy and raining.

We were disappointed because we knew that we were going to want to go biking around the peninsula. Odin picked

out a breakfast place for us and dropped us at the door.

We ate a traditional Irish breakfast and then walked along the street leading down to the bay. We stopped into a few

shops to duck out of the rain every few minutes along the

way and Lizzie purchased a soccer ball. Lizzie and I decided we might as well make the most of the day so we found an

open field full of mud and puddles to chase the soccer ball

around in. We got soaked but didn’t seem to notice or care.

We couldn’t stop laughing. At one point in our overexcited

giggles, I even purposely jumped in a puddle, exactly like a four-year-old child would do.

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We ran through the field and met the other girls at the edge

of the water. We took some photos and Megan mentioned the idea of getting some Irish coffee to escape the rain for a few minutes. Lizzie and I ran back across the field towards the

restaurant and when we reached the boat ramp, we walked right into the chilly water with our sneakers and socks on.

The other three girls kept walking past us and laughed at our ridiculousness as they told us they would meet us for coffee.

Lizzie and I said okay and told them we would meet them there. When we came up the hill from the boat ramp, we

saw the sign for the Dingle Aquarium and didn’t think twice

before saying “let’s go!” We fit right in with the children and their families that were oohing and ahhing over the brightly colored fish, lizards, and penguins.

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When Lizzie and I went back outside, we found the other girls looking for us and they scolded us for not telling

them where we went. We all continued on to John Benny’s together where the wait staff saw our soccer ball and

challenged us to a game of soccer on their afternoon break.

After lunch we went up the street to the bike rental shop

and met a sweet, older gentleman that outfitted us with gear and sent us on our way around the Dingle Peninsula with a small paper map.

With every turn the road led us on, the scenery got better and better.

We rode the bikes along cliffs and beaches, through fields of sheep and cows, near ruins of prehistoric houses and through tiny villages. The first breathtaking sight was a stretch of cliffs jutting straight out into the ocean. The

waves crashed up on the cliffs and we could have sat all day soaking in the beauty. We were in awe, every one

of us had the biggest smile on our faces and we jumped

around in the rain as we took photos of the landscape. We eventually got back on our bikes and kept riding, anxious for what would come next.

We stopped at a wide, sandy beach where a few kids were splashing in the icy water. Lizzie, Kylie, and I walked into

the water with our shoes on and soaked in the salty water once again.

We continued to ride further along the road until Megan and Liz stopped to talk to a shepherd who showed them how to feed a newborn lamb.

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As we rode along, the views became even more gorgeous

than before. We passed cliffs and came to the very tip of the Dingle peninsula. There stood a statue of the Crucifixion overlooking the sea and islands. When we saw it, we

thanked God for the beauty of the world and the fantastic adventure we were on.

We kept riding and came to a hidden beach that was at the bottom of a steep cliff. Stone walls surrounded the beach,

secluding it from the road. We were lucky enough to catch

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the beach when the tide was shallow enough that we could walk in the sand.

It’s funny how the opportunity to see all of this made us so

greedy to see even more of the peninsula, but unfortunately,

by this time we were losing daylight and decided to ride our bikes back the same way we came.

All of these sights left us with hearts full of appreciation and eyes fixed with beauty.

By the time we got back to Dingle, we were dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted and Odin drove us once again to

John Benny’s for dinner, even though he was no longer on his work shift.

For the third time in two days, John Benny’s fed us and

treated us with perfect generosity. They had two musicians singing, and playing guitar and flute. Between songs they asked us where we were from and who we were.

Their attention to our presence was unexpected and they made us feel like an important part of their community.

The lady sitting in the booth next to us was also

unexpectedly gracious. She and her husband were visiting

from Australia, and by the end of the night she had invited the five of us to stay at her house some day if we ever

visited Australia. When the performers were done for the

night, we bought their CDs, talked to them a bit longer, and then walked home to our beds.

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Have you ever l o v e d a place s o m u c h that you would

give up everything to stay there?

A place that made your h e a r t double in size with happiness, made you s m i l e ear to ear from the m o m e n t you arrived to the moment you l e f t , f i l l e d your dreams with images of the

i n f i n i t e b e a u t y of the landscape, ser ved you l o v e with ever y s w e e t new handshake, and you b a w l e d your eyes out when it was time to leave...

Well I ha ve.

It’s a little place called

Dingle, Ireland.

S A T U R D A Y IN THE MORNING WE stretched out our soreness and drove the bikes back to town. We ate breakfast, returned the

bikes, and investigated the options for boat tours to meet

Fungie the dolphin. The one-hour ride took us into the bay where Fungie swam up to us and chased the bubbles from the boat’s engine. We drove out of the bay into the ocean

to catch a new view of the cliffs that towered above us, and eventually cruised back to the dock.

After the tour, we walked back to the hostel where Odin greeted us with a friendly, “Hello girls, how was your

night?” We picked up our backpacks and Odin drove us to town one last time. He gave us hugs before he left us and

said “We have deals for students coming up next month… free stay.” When I hugged him goodbye I turned around

and tears started streaming down my face because in that moment I realized how much I loved Dingle in all of its

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friendliness, and perfection. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the town. Dingle is one of those places that I could give up everything for. I promised him “We will be back.”

The laid-back fishing town and its ocean breeze were

refreshing and completely fulfilling. Every person I met was

extremely friendly and truly cared about my friends and me.

On top of that, the incredible scenery was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

While we waited at the bus stop to leave town, a blonde

haired woman around 65 or 70 years old walked up and

started a conversation with me. She told me that she was on her way to Tralee to visit her neighbor in the hospital

because he was very sick. She said to enjoy every moment

of life, be thankful, and to see the world while we are still

young. I couldn’t even try to hide my tears once again as she lectured me. I told her that Dingle was my favorite place in the world before we boarded the bus to go back to Dublin.

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TOWN WITH A VIEW

F I E S O L E

TWO OF MY friends from Iowa, Brad and Amelia, visited me in Florence at the end of their nine month travel excursion between September and April. The couple got married in

the fall and left shortly after their wedding to explore Asia.

They decided to stop by Italy on their way home and we spent some time together in Tuscany.

On Saturday, we caught a bus to a small town called Fiesole.

The charming town rests on top of a hill overlooking

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T U S C A N Y

the bustling Florence below. Fiesole feels like a breath of

fresh, natural air compared to Florence’s constant energy.

A flawless view of Florence can be seen from the highest

point in town where a monastery is built. The view alone

is worth visiting the small town, but it also offers a history of ancient settlement as it was founded 400 years before

the Romans established Florence. Ancient Etruscan ruins of an amphitheater, a church, and public baths remain as an outdoor museum today.

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L O N D O N

&

T H E

C O T S W O L D S

E N G L A N D

D AY S T H E

L O N D O N & C O T S W O L D S ,

8 2 - 8 4 E N G L A N D

L A N G U A G E :

E N G L I S H

C U R R E N C Y :

P O U N D

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

P L A N E , T R A I N ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

R I V E R S I D E

F O O D :

M E T R O , B I K E

E N G L I S H

I N N

B R E A K F A S T

T H E

C O T S W O L D S

OUR THREE-DAY trip to England included a

The local bartender at our dinner spot that night

at least a week. After Kylie, Megan, Lizzie and I

bikes along that highway and reminded us of how

whirlwind of activities that should have lasted

landed at the London airport on Friday morning we immediately caught a train to Swindon, the

connecting town to a quaint area of England called the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds are a group of very old, classic English villages, which we planned to

explore on bikes. We rented from a bike restoration shop in Swindon and rode along a busy highway to

Highworth and Lechlade where we stayed the night at a charming riverside hotel.

told us that we were very brave to be riding

naïve we were. The next morning when we were

scheduled to travel back to London, the weather was cold and snowing. After no luck finding alternate

transportation back to Swindon, we decided to ride

as fast and safe as possible in hopes that everything would work out.

I’ll spare all of the details, but here are the

highlights of the journey back… Lizzie and I lost

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Kylie and Megan when they took a wrong turn, none of

us had working cell phones, Lizzie fell off her bike and

sprained her wrist, and a couple of exceptional locals went out of their way to help us out.

To them we will forever be grateful.

One of our rescuers, Mark, was the mechanic at the

Salvation Army bike shop in Swindon. He broke insurance policies to drive us in the company van to pick up Kylie,

Megan, and all four bikes, and on the drive we learned his

story. Mark had grown up in Swindon and married a woman who later divorced him and took all of his money and

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to volunteer every day at the Salvation Army Recycles

bike shop, learning how to repair and restore bikes. He lived off of the food at the Salvation Army Booth House

cafĂŠ connected to the shop. After months of volunteering, a mechanic position for bike repairs opened up and

Mark applied for the job. Today he is one of two salaried mechanics on staff and absolutely loves his job. A year

ago, he found the woman of his dreams, who has also been

through some rough life experiences including a divorce and hearing loss, and they have wedding plans for this summer.

In his free time, Mark takes long distance bike rides with

his co-workers. From his understanding of the lives of the

volunteers at the bike shop, he helps and encourages others to work hard and achieve success.

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L O N D O N

SOMEHOW, AFTER ALL of the chaos of the morning, we

made it to the train station in time to catch our ride back to London, but the excitement did not stop there. Lizzie had found us each a ticket to the Chelsea vs. Manchester City

soccer game at Stamford Bridge stadium for that afternoon.

The contagious enthusiasm of the crowds had us cheering at

the top of our lungs and we ended the day following the fans around the city and feeling like locals.

While in London, we also saw the Big Ben, London Eye,

Changing of the Guard, London Bridge, Westminster Abbey, London Underground, and talented street musicians.

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THE DUOMO & GIOTTO’S TOWER

V I E W

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F R O M

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T O P

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TUSCANY WINERY TOUR

P O G G I O A L C H I U S O WITH A PROUD sort of chuckle, Dario tells his

class, “this is the last time you’re all going to be rookies, after this you’re all going to be snobs.”

Dario Parenti is an enologist (winery consultant) and teaches Wines of Italy at Lorenzo de’ Medici and Umbra Institutes. Before teaching, Dario

worked on wine making techniques and refinements for harvests in New Zealand, Denmark, France and

California. His passion for wine making is infectious as he teaches us about each region of Italy and how the climate, tradition, soils, and grape varietals factor into the flavor of every wine.

“Some wines can be more complex than people,” he says.

After a semester of studying wines and attending

two professionally conducted wine tastings, Dario loads his class onto a bus that takes us into the

heart of the Chianti vineyards. Poggio al Chiuso is a

family run winery set in the rolling hills of Tuscany.

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Dario does consulting work for the family whose

legacy runs four generations deep. Marco, one of

the sons that currently does most of the work on the vineyard, greets us at the driveway. He leads

us into the bottling and fermentation building as

he describes which steel tanks holds which wines and how they maintain stabilization. He patiently

answers each of our questions about how they keep

the perfect amount of oxygen in the tanks, how they

seal labels onto the final bottles, and what the grape harvest was like this year. He takes us into the

vineyard and explains where each grape varietal is planted and why the soil is best in those locations.

Marco then brings us inside the guest house kitchen and lets us taste each of his wines. We give Marco and Dario our feedback on the flavors and they

discuss in their rhythmic Italian the finer details of this year’s harvest.

“I am glad you have all learned so much,� says Dario as he puts us back on the bus and waves goodbye.

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CITY VIEW

P I A Z Z A L E

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M I C H E L A N G E L O

F L O R E N C E

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WILD ROSEMARY IN

S E T T I G N A N O I FOUND OUT about Settignano from a little book that I found under the couch in our

apartment called, A Room with a View. The book made mention of the small town that attracts

photographers due to its impeccable landscape

views of Tuscany and Florence. On one of our last days living in Florence, we caught the bus up the hill to Settignano. As we stepped down from the bus, the scent of fresh rosemary and blooming flowers instantly hit our noses.

It didn’t take us long to find the giant rosemary bushes growing wildly along the sides of the

road that led us to encounter a beautiful view of the hills. We sat on a wall flanking the one-lane

road and admired the olive groves and vineyards through the lenses of our cameras. After long

moments of appreciation for the countryside,

we wandered back into the main square of town

and stopped at a simply beautiful restaurant that

served fresh pasta and crisp wine. Our thanks to E. M. Forster for the perfect day.

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S A T U R D A Y ,

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L A Z I O

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C A M P A N I A

I TA LY

D AY S

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S O U T H E R N

I T A L Y

L A N G U A G E :

I T A L I A N

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

T R A I N ,

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

V I L L A G G I O

D R I N K :

B U S C A M P I N G

L I M O N C E L L O

Vistas are painted b l u e & a z u r e ,

iridescent green, lemon y ellow.

F a r a g l i o n i c l i f f s and cascading macchia hang above the e m e r a l d w a t e r .

The aromas of

citrus fruit, sea, vanilla freshly-filled puff pastries.

And a

v o l c a n o that silently a d m i r e s all these wonders.

We are in the

s o u t h of the

I t a l i a n P e n i n s u l a

We are in heaven.

– Meraviglia Paper & Tiny Atlas Quarterly

C O L O S S E U M

R O M E AFTER COMPLETING MY studies at Lorenzo de’ Medici, I said one last sad goodbye to Florence, the place that will

forever hold a place in my heart, on the morning of May 20 as I walked to the station with my belongings. I took the

high-speed train to Rome where I would meet up with my three other great friends. Bre and I waterski together in

Iowa, Chiaki was my freshman year roommate from Japan, and Evan and I are in design school together at Kansas.

Rome may be the most historically rich city I have ever been to.

From the unbelievable art history of the Trevi Fountain,

Sistine Chapel, Rafaello’s room and the rest of the Vatican to the deep religious history of Catholicism, and the

ancient city that makes up the ruins, Rome is nothing less than magnificent .

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R O M A N

R U I N S

V I E W

F R O M

S O R R E N T O

S O R R E N T O WE BOARDED THE Circumvesuviana train in Naples to

travel down the coast to Sorrento. The rickety old train is

notorious for showing up late, skipping scheduled journeys, and breaking capacity limits. The eccentric vehicle would never be allowed to operate in any place with regulated

safety codes. Nevertheless, we were on our way to the first big taste of summer.

Sorrento is located in the middle of all of the places we

wanted to see – Capri, Positano, Mt. Vesuvius and Pompeii – but it lacks nothing in attractiveness with its stunning

view and delicious seafood. A collection of colorful hotels and resorts span the shoreline and a faint outline of Mt. Vesuvius is visible in the distance. We stayed in a small

cabin at a campground with its own beach and secluded

view of the sea. After spending the day exploring the city, we hung up the hammock at the cabin and soaked up the remaining daylight.

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C A P R I “LOOK FOR THE old guys with mattresses on the front of

their boats,” our friend Allie from Kansas told us. She had

raved about a private boat tour of Capri that she had been

on the year before and was so excited to hear that we would be visiting the island. We took the ferry from Sorrento to

Capri and set out in search of the “old guys.” After minutes

of searching, all we could find were large advertisements for

public tours of the blue grotto. We were about to give up until we ventured to a smaller area of the harbor where a couple

of men were cleaning and preparing their boats. We talked to a few of them in broken English, asking for rides, but all of

them were previously booked. Finally, we ran into a man who

appeared to be organizing the boats and he made a phone call to his friend Giovanni to take us around the island.

A couple of minutes later, Giovanni pulled up in his beautiful wooden boat and we climbed on board.

Giovanni is a native of Capri and has the best job in the

world. He took us around the circumference of the island, stopping to show us blue, green, and white grottos at the

base of rocky cliffs. He let us jump into the Tyrrhenian Sea and drove us through the natural arch of the Faraglioni

rocks. The water was crystal clear and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “We are in the south of the Italian peninsula, we are in heaven."

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F A R A G L I O N I

N A T U R A L

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A R C H

C L I F F S

G I O V A N N I

&

H I S

B O A T

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P O S I T A N O THE ONLY TWO ways to get to Positano and the rest of the spectacular Amalfi coast are by boat or a steep, winding

road along mountain cliffs and over a peninsula. My friends

and I took the 45-minute bus ride from Sorrento to Positano in the late afternoon as the sun was setting. Several times,

the bus had to stop at corners to let other cars go by before it could pass through the slender roads. We climbed higher and higher up the road leading away from Sorrento. At

the peak of the bluffs, the window on the right of the bus revealed the northern side of the peninsula and the left window exposed the wide-open Southern side.

Shimmering azure water stretched out for miles below the towering rocky cliffs of the Monti Lattari Mountains and their vibrant towns nestled within.

Positano’s picturesque streets were lined with boutiques

selling bright colored kitchen supplies, gifts, chocolates and gelato. Giant lemons, twice the size of those in the United States, were displayed outside of most shops to impress curious visitors. These shops sold glistening bottles of limoncello, and countless bags of lemon candies.

According to positano.com, legend has it that, “In ancient

times, a Turkish boat became beached just off the shores of what has since come to be known as Positano. Aboard the ship there was a painting of the Virgin Mary. The captain

heard the painting whisper "posa, posa" ('set me down, set me down') and, obediently, threw the image into the sea.

Miraculously, the ship floated. The locals built a Church on

the spot where the painting washed ashore, interpreting the episode as a sign that the Virgin had chosen their town as resting place.�

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P O M P E I I IN 79 A.D. Mt. Vesuvius erupted, casting molten rock and ash over the city of Pompeii. The Roman city is

extraordinary because the volcanic materials preserved

much of it, including walls, streets, buildings, and paintings.

Public records from the Roman times indicate the existence of Pompeii, but it was not found until the 1700s. It was buried under a mound of earth, which is still being uncovered today.

Pompeii was a major trading port in the Mediterranean Sea and the city catered to sailors with its many bars,

restaurants, brothels, and entertainment venues. Public

baths were fueled by futuristic plumbing systems and the streets were engineered for convenience and cleanliness.

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M T.

V E S U V I U S

I ACED A science project on Mt. Vesuvius in 7th grade, so

naturally I already had a brilliant impression of the volcano.

We caught a bus from Pompeii to the bottom of Mt. Vesuvius where we then jumped into a green army-looking bus that took us almost to the top. The 12-passenger truck was

strictly kept in low gear, topping out at about 15 miles per hour as it jostled over volcanic dirt and potholes.

The white fog of a dense cloud limited our visibility to about 10 feet on the treacherous road and obstructed our view of the red dirt.

At the top, we were told to hike a quarter mile up to the crater. Between gusts of wind, the fog shifted to reveal

yellow and purple wildflowers cloaking the mountainside.

Halfway up, a makeshift wooden bridge covered a shallow valley where lava once carved the earth, and higher up, a small shelter was built at the edge of the crater. A

volcanologist excitedly greeted us there and passionately taught us Mt. Vesuvius’s history, then sent us to wander

along the path leading around the crater’s perimeter. On a

clear day, we could have seen the entirety of the cavern, but instead we saw only small portions of the rugged rocks as the wind continued to draft.

The distinctive terrain astonished me, and if I didn’t know

any better I would have thought I was on the moon. We only had a short time before the bus left us, but the matchless landscape burned a picture on my eyes forever.

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Just when you t h i n k you’ve s e e n a small bit of e v e r y t h i n g the n a t u r a l w o r l d has to offer,

G o d l e a d s you to an u n s u s p e c t i n g new place, f l i p s your heart, t w i s t s your mind, s h o c k s you with astonishment,

and leaves you with simply the

deepest humble appreciation for something you’ve v e r even dreamed

ne of seeing.

V E N E T O & T R E N T I N O - A L T O A D I G E

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N O R T H E R N

I T A L Y

L A N G U A G E :

I T A L I A N ,

C U R R E N C Y :

E U R O

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N ;

C A R

A C C O M M O D A T I O N :

H O T E L ,

F O O D :

G E R M A N ,

A I R B N B

C A N E D E R L I

L A D I N

L i v e in each s e a s o n

as it passes;

b r e a t h e the a i r , d r i n k the d r i n k , t a s t e the f r u i t , and r e s i g n y o u r s e l f to the i n f l u e n c e of the

e a r t h .

– Henry David Thoreau

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V E N I C E I FIRST LEARNED about Venice from the children’s book The Thief Lord which I read multiple times between

elementary school and high school. It’s about two young

orphans that sneak around the back alleys and canals of the city built on water and live in an abandoned movie theater with other orphans.

At our arrival in Venice, we felt devious like Prosper & Bo

(the two orphans). We were staying in a cheap, unmarked hotel with an intimidating landlord, in a back alley. The “hotel” was actually an apartment with locks on each

separate bedroom and a shared bathroom. It was decorated in a typical Venetian style of the 1960s and was not well

maintained. I had only booked the room for three people

because Evan hadn’t decided if he would come on the trip yet at the time, but we ended up sneaking him into the

room, barely sliding by on our white lie. Late at night after

sneaking around the back alleys and canals of the city built on water, we quietly brought him in and told him not to

make a sound. Then we snuck him out early in the mornings so that the landlord wouldn’t catch us.

Venice is a city of secrets, and we were one of them.

During the day, our identities blended with the thousands

of other people walking around the skinny city streets. We

observed as it functioned just like any other, except by boat rather than car or truck. Boats brought food deliveries to

grocery stores, boats collected trash, hop-on/hop-off boats took visitors on tours, and bus boats transported people.

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M U R A N O

WE TOOK A bus boat to the exuberant islands, Murano

and Burano, known for producing glass and Venetian lace respectively. The buildings on these two islands look like they wake up each morning with a vividly fresh coat of

paint. Together they create a spectrum of vibrancy unlike any other.

Venice is a maze and a navigational nightmare, but it is by far the most unique city I have ever been to and certainly one of my very favorites.

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G L A S S B L O W I N G

P A I N T E R

I N

B U R A N O

B U R A N O

W E D N E S D A Y ,

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B L U E

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H O U S E

I N

B U R A N O

G R E E N

H O U S E

I N

B U R A N O

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C O R N U D A ON OUR DRIVE between Venice and the Dolomites, we

stopped in a small city called Cornuda to surprise a group of Kansas students. Our classmates were studying abroad

at Tipoteca, one of the oldest letterpress workshops in the

world. The quaint city is surrounded for miles by prosecco vineyards and steady hills.

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L E

D O L O M I T I

WE STOOD OUTSIDE of a bar in Venice, borrowing the

wifi the night before, to book an air bnb for the Dolomites.

On Thursday afternoon, after a couple hours of driving, we

arrived in the Dolomite Mountains – a snow skier’s paradise in the winter and a hikers haven in the summertime. With rugged rock spires and remains of via ferrata trails from World War II, these mountains describe a spectacular history and are home to a great variety of culture.

Every turn led us into a more remarkable view of the valley ahead of us as we climbed winding roads. The GPS led us

to a mountain at the heart of the Dolomites, sprinkled with

Austrian style houses making up small villages. Each house had its own name and many of them had cows or chickens

in their yards. We took a right at the fork in the half paved D A Y

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road but it was unclear which house was our air bnb until we asked a woman and her young daughter. She enthusiastically pointed higher up towards a town called La Valle.

When we pulled in the driveway, Isolde greeted us with

perfect English. She showed us around the modern interior

of the cabin and we were stunned by the view from the back deck of the house. Mountains stretched as far right and as far left as we could see.

Isolde suggested that we eat at a restaurant in a house down the hill, run by a middle-aged woman. She also

answered our questions about the area and told us about the local language, Ladin, which only 2,000 people have

declared as their native dialect. Many of these people speak T H U R S D A Y ,

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Ladin, Italian and German because northern Italy used to be owned by Austria.

Isolde was the only person that we encountered that knew English, but it was challenging and rewarding to communicate in bits of Italian.

After soaking in the view for a long while, we wandered to the little restaurant down the hill. The woman was sweet

and patient as we struggled to ask her for dinner the next

night. She regretfully said that she was already booked, but

to come over for coffee in the morning instead. He yard was decorated with wooden furniture, garden flags, flowers and a little white dog.

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In the morning we wandered down to her house and she

prepared the most perfect breakfast of hard-boiled eggs,

coffee, fresh bread and milk, homemade jelly and cheese.

Her dog, Daisy, ran around exploring the yard as we ate. We

graciously thanked the woman for her warm hospitality and then drove to the Puez-Odle Parco Nazionale to hike.

A rack train took us halfway up the mountain and we caught the trailhead from there. The panoramic view stretched in front of and behind us as we hiked along an open grassy plateau. The sun was shining on a perfect day as we marveled at the natural beauty of the peaks.

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The t r e e s on the mountains a c r o s s the valley l o o k e d l i k e fluffy

cotton balls,

and all I wanted was to r e a c h a giant hand t o t o u c h the

out

soft, gentle texture of nature on the m o u n t a i n f a c e across from me.

The next moment, I wanted

to sit beneath the foliage and

feel so small under the p o w e r of the e a r t

h.

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ALTHOUGH IT RAINED almost the entire time we were around Lake Maggiore, we still enjoyed the beautiful

views. Lakes Maggiore and Como in northwestern Italy

are surrounded by mountains in the south of the Alps. We

stayed in Baveno, a neighboring town to the larger Stresa home to many resorts and villas.

In our last days in Europe, Evan dropped Bre, Chiaki and

I off at the airport near Milan and drove to catch up with

the Kansas students again. The rest of us flew to Barcelona where we met up with a few other friends from Iowa that happened to be visiting at the same time. We spent two

days lying on the beach, watching the crystal clear water

wash over the sand. “Mojito, mojito, my friend!” rang out

over the beach as people walked around selling drinks. On

June 2 we said a sad “see you soon” to Europe and flew out of Madrid for home.

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H O M E I RETURNED TO the United States on June 3, 2016. I

couldn’t have asked for a more rewarding experience, from

living in a foreign country to traveling to new places almost every weekend. I am so thankful for this opportunity to

expand my understanding of the world and I will cherish the memories forever.

A huge thank you to my parents, Ted and Patty, for

supporting me and my travels. I couldn’t have done it

without you two and I hope that you have many chances to see some of the amazing things that I did.

Thank you to my good friends Kylie, Megan, and Lizzie for

encouraging my adventurous spirit, traveling with me, living with me (thanks also to Camille and Taryn for putting up with us), and constantly making me laugh.

Thank you to my brother, Scott, and sister-in-law, Grace, for your support and travel advice.

Thank you to all of the other friends that I got to meet up with over the course of the semester, which made it that

much more awesome – Liz, Devon, Brittney & the Franklins, Brad & Amelia, Morgan & friends, the Sneltens, the

Dressmans, Madeleine, Bre, Evan, Chiaki, and Cory & friends.

Grazie mille! Love you all!

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