Redefining the "Traveler"

I've always thought that the "traveling" types were the people who were born a different breed. They're the ones who were blessed with the care-free, adventurous gene that the rest of us missed out on when we were born. They're the people in pictures you see cliff-jumping or standing on the edge of mountain tops without a care in the world. They have that natural "one with the earth" glow that comes from their fearless attitude.
They're the dreamers, the inventors, the outside-of-the-box thinkers that the rest of us have accepted we could never be.

I am surrounded by 90 other students who have chosen to fly away from home to live in a different part of the world. Some of us have studied for a semester and others are studying for an entire year. I've met backpackers and vacationers of all ages who have made the decision to break free from their daily lives to live a different one for a while. 

I think of historical "go-getters" like Christopher Columbus and wonder if I could ever actually sail for that long, knowing full well that I could die of a thousand different things from Malaria to a violent storm, in hopes to find land. I'm not half as brave as that. 


I wonder, am I courageous enough to be labeled an "adventurer", a "traveler"?
I have fears, doubts, and anxieties.
This trip has shown me a lot of areas of my life that I could really stand to fix up a bit.


But, after 3 1/2 months here, I think I stumbled my way into a realization: we've got the wrong definition of "Traveler". Sure, there are some adventurers who's personalities line up perfectly with our made-up connotative definition of the word. But nowhere in the dictionary does it say "free spirit and type-C personality necessary". As a matter of fact, I don't think I've ever met a traveler without some fear or doubt.

I believe that it is the conquering of those fears and doubts that actually make someone a traveler.  It's the ability to say, "Hell yea I'm scared to death of this airplane ride, but that view from up there is going to be amazing." or "I'm a bit anxious about this, but I'm going to do it anyway." I think the adventurer is the one who sees the problem but chooses to focus on the outcome.

It's when we refuse to grapple our fears that keep us trapped in comfortable monotony and routine--the fear of the unknown, the fear of failure, anxiety from money, phobias. The adventurer has those same fears but ventures anyway. We're the ones who don't allow ourselves to be this way.

So, from one Traveler to another (and in the wise words of Ralph Waldo Emerson), "may you always do what you are afraid to do."

Emily Goes to Paris!

I suppose I should write about a trip I've taken since this is a blog about my study abroad adventures, after all. I've decided to share my adventure to Paris, France.

It all started a few weeks back when a friend and I saw a free weekend on our schedules. 60 Euros roundtrip later, our plain tickets to Paris were bought. Fast forward to just 3 days before our flight and I booked a last minute hostel. From there, we were set. Thanksgiving afternoon we started our 6 step travel process to Paris. We started by metro from our apartments to the train station, proceeded to take a 2 hour train to Milano Centrale (No train strikes that day. Always a good thing.), then ended with a 1 hour bus ride to Milano Bergamo airport. Step 4 of the process was the plane ride itself, followed by another 1 hour bus ride to the city and a metro ride to the Hostel. Deep breath. We made it.

We arrived at Peace & Love Hostel around 11pm, Thanksgiving night. Lugging our backpacks and ready for bed, we made our reservation payment and walked upstairs to our room...all 105 stairs that is.  (Yes, I found it necessary to count every last torturous step of that creaking wooden staircase). Finally arriving at the doorstep of Room 14, we passed out in our beds.

Did I mention our hostel was a bar?

View from our room

For the next two days, we ventured around Paris and Versailles.

First stop? Arc de Triumph.

Seeing this was Cooper's "Oh my gosh, I'm in PARIS!!!" moment

The first day of Paris was overcast and rainy... not Eiffel tower viewing weather. So we spent the day inside the Musee du Louvre (which is pronounced COMPLETELY differently in French than it's spelled, so don't even try). 


Some of the most famous art works and statues are housed here, from Aphrodite and the Mona Lisa to paintings by Delacroix and Jacques-Louis David (who are well worth your time researching if you're unfamiliar with their masterpieces).

Don't be fooled by this sassy pose. I WIPED OUT right after this picture was taken.

The next day was sunny and beautiful and perfect! What else would you do when you have that kind of weather combination, but go down to the Palace of Versailles? 
This was the home of French Royalty including the one and only, Marie Antoinette.

It took a 25 minute walk to get from her main palace to her summer guest house in the backyard

But it was later that night that we saw it:
The captivating pinnacle of all that defines "Paris",  
The cultivation of French passion and emotion all built into one massive display of light.


Before our eyes stood... the Eiffel Tower.

My "Oh my gosh, I'm in PARIS." moment

Well, you can't go to Paris without climbing up the Eiffel Tower. So the next morning, that's just what we did!
(Now for a series of pictures so this blog doesn't get boring with words).....

And so the trek begins

First of 3 stages completed!  We were oblivious to the fact that we had 2 more very high stages yet to climb. 

Looking across the tower on our hike to the top

The city is overwhelmingly huge

2,500,000 rivets to complete this bad boy. Impressive.

View from Stage 2--Note the hot air balloon. Picture perfect.

Waiting for Stage 3's elevator that would take us up to that tip of the tower. Never felt my legs go weak from heights until that elevator ride to the top.

It's amazing how everything suddenly looks like little play things when you're so high up.

The breathtaking views reminded me again why I like heights so much

Later that evening, we strolled on down to Notre Dame. It was as beautiful inside as it was outside.  (There was also a Subway restaurant across the street who's food was also worth noting- Delicious!)

Then we found a hole-in-the-wall bookstore that turned out to be my favorite part of Paris! So eclectic and artsy! 

Later that evening...
Our hostel, being a bar, had "Happy Hour". While my travel buddy, Cooper, sipped on her cocktail and I enjoyed some beer (cheaper and more satisfying than the fruity drinks), we discussed our plans for the next day. 
Before long, some Londoners staying at the hostel stopped by our table and bought us drinks. Yes, all three of them wore Argyle socks and carried strong English accents. 

"We created a great language and you Americans went and messed it up"
"No," I said, "We improved it."

The night brought a few rounds of shots that looked as delicate as the French language itself.
But let me tell you. They were nothing close to delicate. Imagine thick syrupy liquid Cinnamon followed by an aftertaste of vodka. I almost gag thinking about it. YUCK.

For anyone planning on visiting Paris: Stay away from any type of red shot

The night brought the opportunity to let go and just enjoy Paris nightlife. It was a whole new experience to be surrounded by such an atmosphere and to be care free. I hope to never lose that ability to simply let go of stresses and forget the worries of tomorrow. I never want to forget to dance. And that is just what we did; our London friends, the French locals, and us..we let go and we danced.

Underground local French nightclub

Paris was just as amazing as everyone had foretold. And I fell in love with it just as they said I would.
It was busy and bustling and pushing to grow, yet seeking to appreciate its own history and special place in this world. 


By the end of the weekend though, I began to get a pulling in my heart for home. I missed the familiar faces of my neighbors and the comfortable sounds of the language spoken around me. I was ready to fly back. 

Torino and the Alps from the Mole Tower

Yes, I was homesick for Torino.  I have become attached to Torino, comfortable in its slow paced life and animated people. I've become rooted in the environment.

With two weeks left of stay here in Italy, I am truly understanding the meaning to La Dolce Vita.  And I am planning on bringing that Sweet Life with me back to America.