Our last day in Italy, me trying to suppress my increasing sorrow, Ri eager to eat some real food with lots of meat. We boarded the train from Roma Termini to Venezia Mestre to fly out from Marco Polo Airport. We stay at the most luxurious hotel on this trip, with not just 1 but 2 King size beds. The blinds are operated on a switch kind of fancy. I am eternally grateful for this trip and even more so the person accompanying me during this adventure, my husband, Riri. Without you, I definitely wouldn’t have had as much fun as I did. Also, major thanks for my parents for chipping in to pay for this trip!
During our flight, spanning the entire 10 hours from Frankfurt in broad daylight, we flew over Greenland. The captained used the PA to inform us that this is a rare opportunity to look out the window. I snapped a few photos, so this is what Greenland looks like. I heard Ri murmured to himself “so Greenland isn’t green”. :P
And this one is somewhere over Canada.
Now I would like to end this journey with these words, and thank you for following us to Italia!
“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.” It’s nostalgia for studying abroad that one semester. Travel is realizing that “age thirty” should be shed of its goddamn stigma.”
Nate Miller