I’ve warned myself off this city so many times, listening to everyone's horror stories and convincing myself it wasn’t for me... but with the sun finally out, I decided to give it a fair shot. And honestly? I didn’t mind it. Naples is gritty, chaotic, intriguing in a way that suprises you. Or, at least, me. Considering I was in Maradona’s kingdom, I figured I should pay homage. So I looked up "Maradona" on Google Maps… and off I went, weaving through the city, fo

Yes, we still made it to Ravello and Amalfi... though not without a trecherous detour. The driver had to take a different route, which meant a two-hour journey up and along the winding, mountainous roads over to the coast... full of ups, downs, curves, and constant braking. Packed into the van like sardines with a bunch of strangers, I spent most of the ride silently rocking back and forth, trying to talk myself out of feeling nauseous... and praying I wouldn’t be sick all ov

Pompeii was fascinating. It's one of those places where history rises up all around you. Long before the eruption, Pompeii was a thriving Roman city... lived in for centuries by traders, artisans, merchants, and families who filled its streets with everyday life. It sat at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, close enough to enjoy fertile soil but completely oblivious to the danger.

After a full week, I finally left Palermo… and I really did leave a piece of my heart there. I was absolutely mesmerized by that city… and if I ever return to Sicily… it will be the first place on my list to visit. Cefalù On one of the days I was there, I took the train to Cefalù… a seaside town only an hour away. It was charming… and I enjoyed it, but I felt myself beginning to wear thin. Cefalù was lovely… smaller... and much quieter than Palermo. It was a Sunday, so more

I think I've eaten so many spinach arancini... at this point I could probably become a critic. The bad ones? Sure, I still eat them... but then I get irritated with myself for having ruined a perfectly good meal opportunity on something a bit ick. The Arancini of Palermo But the good ones? Man . l have to physically tear myself away... to prevent me just staying there and eating one right after another... I've taken this strange pride in tracking them down too... pinpointing

The other day, I took a tour up to some of the ancient ruins of Sicily and to a medieval town called Erice… and I will get to that part later, I promise. But first, I need to talk about the conversation that unfolded in the van on the way there. I was riding with three ladies from Houston, Texas... very thick accents, very kind, kinda quirky. Sicilian Street Art BUT... When I mentioned that I loved Palermo because of all its brilliant street art, one of the ladies shot me a

I left Ragusa early to catch my bus to Catania... again ... where I’d have to transfer to a train that would take me all the way up to the northwestern area of Sicily, Palermo. It was going to be a very long day. Ragusa For once, I actually felt confident about my bus from Ragusa. There was actually a bus station... AND a man at the ticket desk who specifically told me where to go, where the bus would be arriving, when to get on, and when it would leave. Phewf! What a refre

I have something I really need to admit... I am absolutely addicted to spinach arancini. I actively hunt them down. Yes, arancini is everywhere; of course, it's Italy. BUT it’s almost always the meat kind. The spinach ones are a different shape and size... and you can usually spot a hint of green peeking through... so I really do have to seek them out. I've become a bit of a pro, though. My two loves I’ve had to limit myself to one a day… even though, in my heart of hearts,

Then came Ortigia... a small island off the coast of Siracusa. The Temple of Apollo “According to the legends of Greek mythology, Ortigia was the island where Leto sought refuge while fleeing Hera's wrath after becoming pregnant by Zeus. Enraged by her husband's affair, Hera forbade any land under the sun from offering Leto shelter to give birth. Eventually, Leto found safety on Ortigia, where she gave birth to the twins Apollo (God of the Sun, music, and prophecy) and Artem

Who takes a carry-on to cobblestone-street-filled Italy? Trying to keep a smile on my face whilst dragging this contraption around. No one. No one in the entire world. Oh... hold on. .. Me. I do. Silly, ridiculous, " not-thinking " me. Of all the places I could've chosen NOT to bring a backpack, I chose Europe … and instead, opted for this roly-poly-ollie, carry-on. Big mistake. BIG . Huge. The only time I will ever succumb to rolling luggage again is if I have some kind of w

Catania. I'm unsure how to say it. Seriously. Do I put the emphasis on the “t”?? Or on the “nia”? I’ve been desperately trying to listen to how people pronounce it, but it seems to vary from person to person. Hmmm... Anyway… the flight from Geneva was relatively drama-free. No significant incidents... except that my phone was dying... but that ALWAYS happens. No big news story there. The flight was far from full... and because of it, I managed to snag myself a window seat.

I want to start off this blog with a little bit of ’splaining. When I travel, I write. I always have. It’s one of the few true forms of expression I genuinely love to do... whether it’s here, rambling on my blog... or scribbled into one of my many memory books. I have quite a few of them. Writing things down is how I make sense of things... no matter what they are. It’s where my ( occasional & perceived ) humour meets honesty ( often mixed with a bit of exaggeration ) ...and

You won’t believe what happened to me. Most of my blog could start that way. Seriously. ZC and I were exploring Siena the other day... and we happened to come across a local market. It was mostly clothes, plants, and shoes... nothing touristy at all... and no artisan stalls. BUT... I happened to find a hoodie that looked cozy... and it was only €6. Steal of a deal! It was off-white, which isn’t usually my best colour, but for that price… and because it felt so snug, I bou

So our final day in my beloved Florence arrived… and I was already sad to leave the city... but I had no idea it would turn out as rough as it did. Something strange happened to me on my final morning... I got "dizzy." Was it perhaps the cause of excessive amounts of wine window Aperol Spritzes? No. At least I don't think so. My dizzy was not your average “ stood up too fast ” or " overindulged " dizzy... but the full-on spinning room of doom dizzy. Ya. Not fun. During that

WHO hands over their entire financial lifeline over... in Italy... the pickpocket capital of Europe... to a complete stranger?  WHILE I'M STANDING ON THE ROAD DRINKING!!! Me. Apparently, me. I spent the next ten minutes berating myself for committing what might (potentially) be the stupidest mistake of my entire travel career. Rookie move. Classic me.

I was beyond ecstatic to see the Florence Duomo once again. Anyone who’s ever talked to me about travel knows that the Duomo in Florence is one of my all-time favourite places in the world. In fact, I call it one of my “Nessun Dormas.” It fills me with such overwhelming joy and awe that I feel like Pavarotti should appear in the background, belting out the triumphant final chorus of Nessun Dorma. The power of that music perfectly captures what I feel when I see places like t

I caught sight of the pastry counter and motioned to the server that I’d like to take a closer look. You’d think I’d asked to inspect their cash register. He gave me a haughty once-over, then sharply informed me I wasn’t allowed past the second step. Oh... Ok. It felt so unnecessarily cold… completely dismissive. Even the lady inside, behind the counter, could do nothing but glare at me. So… I left. Unmistakenly banished... again.

Today was my birthday. I really hadn’t thought the day through when I decided to book tickets to the Vatican. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable birthday activity. Right? What better thing to do on one's birthday than to go into the most churchiest of churches out there... whilst in the midst of intense jetlag? Now, anyone who’s read my blogs knows how I feel about churches... especially Catholic churches. They annoy me to no end. Why? Because they parade “ s

The 'travelling pro' side of me failed miserably as soon as I reached Termini, one of Rome's main station terminals. When the airporter train arrived, it was time for me to navigate the dreaded Metro. I did consider walking... as it was only 34 minutes to my hotel... but, as I might have mentioned previously, I was too shattered, sticky, and snappy to manage that.

Well… It’s that time again. I’m off. Packed, passport ready, and currently on the train en route to YVR. This one feels a little different, though. Not even a little. A whole lot. First off... I’m poor. Well, if we're being honest... I’m always poor, but this time I’m poor without the usual credit buffer I tend to lean on when I wander abroad. Long story. Banks suck. Actually, I suck — and that’s why the banks suck. But yeah… long story. The summer didn’t pan out on the sid

So… we’re all probably wondering… what happened with the key? Nothing yet. No angry emails, no surprise invoices. I think this should be...

Whenever I mentioned I was going to Bordeaux, the response was almost automatic… “You must visit the Cité du Vin!” The what? Apparently,...

In my last post, I talked about what I really love ( and don’t love ) about Paris… but really, what I should have done was sum it all up...

I caught the train from Soissons to Paris on Sunday morning, with Matthew. He was a sweetheart and stayed with me as I navigated the...