Life...or something like it.

Where to begin?
I guess the beginning would make sense. What constitute as the beginning though? The moment I was born, the moment I knew I was going to Italy or the moment I got on the plane.

Well maybe i'll start here.
In November I found out that I was placed in Vicenza, Italy. In my mind I had all of these ideas of what it would be like and the trips I would take and the people I would be spending my time with. However, this is life. When is it ever as expected? I can tell you this much though...

The wine is cheap, chilled, and amazing. Spritz looks a lot better than it actually taste.
The food is incredible when found in the small alley way places. Donkey and horse meat is common. fish on pizza brings nothing but disgusted faces and sadly empty pockets.
Trains come when they please and are cancelled frequenty.
the shops and ristorantes are also known to be open when they please and the good ones should always be reserved for in advance. I learned that after waiting for the perfect one in Verona for an hour to open.
Gelato never gets old...ever.
Riding my bike to work alongside italian traffic has made me feel like I can officially be called a badass. The fields and the view make the ride worth it in the end.
Even just taking a train to Tuscany is worth every penny. The scenery is much more than just beautiful.
Pisa...not much to do there but seeing the tower was a little surreal even with all of the tourist.
Swimming the Mediterranean sea with all it's warmth and wind makes me feel apart of the world more.. I don't know exactly why but it just does.
Laughing, being silly, making fun of eachother, being there for eachother, and being so entirely united with the girls has made every one of these moments magical. From watching a late night movie to walking around the late night Venetian streets. There seems to never be a dull with these "beezies".
Gondola rides with a handsome and sweet gondolier who sings italian lullabies during the venetian summer night was perfect.
My letter to Juliet has yet to come through but please keep rooting for me. I still have hope...and I don't even know why.
Being lost in translation is beautiful.

The strangest part about all of this to me is how normal it all is. Taking a train to tuscany, venice, or even a bus to my own amazing italian city makes me feel at ease. It's like the whole school year was just a dream and I'm picking up from right where I left off in London last september. I felt at disequilibrium all year. There was something off. My world didn't feel normal. I didn't feel like I belonged. Traveling and experiencing the world is what I'm meant for. It's more apparent to me now more than ever.
What kind of person feels more at ease halfway across the world than her own home town?
I'm clearly a flawed woman.
I guess if you're reading this blog. I want you to know that everyday is a new day here. There's the good and the bad just like there is over there. I want you to know that there has been some things that have been hurting my soul (as pierre my gondolier would phrase it) BUT i'm carrying on and I'm living all of these precious moments to the fullest in the warm Italian sun or even in the stormy italian rain.
I've been here 3 weeks but it's felt like much longer. I'm living in the moment therefore it is extremely hard to keep up with this thing. You're probably not reading at this point anyways. I mean shit some celebrity cut their hair again and you're looking at all the hot gossip about it on E.com. If you are reading I just hope you do things for you and go out on a limb every once a while.
Ciao! x x x