I cry on my first day of anything. When my mom dropped me off for elementary school-cried. College-cried. Even Semester at Sea-cried. So it was no exception when I went to Europe.

I was supposed to backpack through Europe with my best friend. The two of us had planned this post grad adventure as little girls and wanted to carry out our life long dream now that we were finally graduating. We researched cities, routes, trains, hostels, food and tourist sites. We got as far as booking our plane ticket when my friend backed out. I was left with a one way ticket to London—alone.

My Dad dropped me off at the airport and I teared up for the mere fact that I was setting off on this journey that I had imagined my entire life. The heaviness of living out my dreams sank into my chest as the airline assistant wrapped my backpack up in plastic. I couldn’t believe I had a backpack. Or even a ticket. I had never flown overseas. I had never gone through customs alone. I had no phone and no map, just a scribbled piece of scrap paper with directions to the Contiki Basement. My passport was already flowing with stamps, the edges were fraying and I knew exactly what page opened up to my photo. I had some international experience under my belt and I planned to turn that experience into some feigned confidence. I got this, I thought.

I didn’t sleep much on the plane. Too anxious and excited. Too concerned by how dreamy the English man sitting next to me was. Too curious about the free wine. 

Another glass of red please. 

Before I could close my eyes, I landed in London.

I followed the people. I followed the signs. I looked for the red circle that would lead me to the underground. I waited on a long line for a ticket and proceeded to the tube. I took the Piccadilly line in the direction of Cockfosters. I giggled at the British voice announcing Cockfosters. I’d try to keep it together next time. I got off at Russell Square, walked a few blocks and found myself at the basement. At least a place to store my bag for now. 

I went and bought a cell phone to last me throughout my travels (it didn’t last past Paris). I called a friend of mine who I knew lived in London. We were supposed to meet up. I was invited to stay at his house just outside of the city. I hoped he would show me around. He didn’t answer the phone.

Plan B. I booked a hotel room. I stayed at a place where other Contiki travelers also stayed. I was told I may have a roommate. I waited up in my room hoping someone young and fun would barge through the door. No one showed up that night.

I couldn’t sleep. I was absolutely jet lagged and confused on what time I was even supposed to think it was. The T.V. barely worked and all of the shows were unfamiliar British programs anyway. I checked Facebook from my new phone. Homesickness began to kick in. I laid awake in my twin size bed alone for hours. It was four a.m. and I hadn’t closed my eyes once. I felt cooped up and abandoned. I didn’t know what I was going to do the next day. I didn’t understand why my friend hadn’t called me back. I didn’t want to be awake. I didn’t want to be there anymore. The sun started to come up and I burst into tears. 

I called my dad. “I want to come home,” I whined.

My dad laughed at me, which of course made me cry more. “You just traveled around the world. You spent one day in London and you want to come home already?”

Yes, yes, yes! I had no friends, I had no solid place to stay and I had no clue what I was going to do to entertain myself for a week.

“Get a bottle of wine. It will help you sleep,” my dad said.

“It’s four a.m. They’re going to think I’m crazy!”

There was no chance of talking me into a positive solution at this point. Delusional and homesick.

I sobbed and complained and babbled about all of my fears until I exhausted my body and was worried I would waste all of my minutes on my phone. I went right to sleep after that. 

The next day I made sure to buy a bottle or two of wine for the next couple of nights to fall asleep. It helped.

I went out the next day to explore the city on my own. First stop, Buckingham Palace. I stood in line at the underground again for a new ticket and some guidance on which direction I should go in. A group of tall and adorable English guys swarmed the queue (see that—see how I used that English terminology?). They came up to me in a panic.

“Excuse me, could you do us a favor? one asked me.

“Um…sure,” I said. I must have been blushing.

“We are on a scavenger hunt. Could you give me a kiss while my friend takes a picture?” 

I smiled and motioned his face closer to mine, turning his chin so my lips could touch his cheek.

“There you go. Good luck,” I said. 

They laughed and hollered. “And she’s a yankee too!”

Immediately my loneliness was gone. I may not have known anyone in the city and I may not have known where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do, but I definitely wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by people—people living and enjoying their lives. I was reminded of my humanity. I kept my head up as I walked around the city. I smiled at people as they walked by. People said hi and offered passing comments. I felt connected. I felt grounded. I felt as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be—all on my own.

I hit all the usual spots—Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey. I sat alone on park benches and in cafes. I read a lot and took photos. I didn’t cry after that first night. There really wasn’t any need to. I was doing what I had always wanted to do. I would make friends and I would explore. I would exchange more smiles with strangers. I would kiss more boys with irresistible accents. I would meet new people that would stay up with me when I couldn’t sleep and drink wine until the sun came up. It was worth all the fear and anxiety. I was living my childhood dream.

Where is the Grand Canyon? And why on earth am I wearing shorts?!

We left Vegas later than we originally planned. We took our time to wake up in the morning. Our room was strewn with button down shirts, dresses, heels and hooker cards. We were piled over one another, abruptly woken up by Sara pulling back the curtains. Anything for a candid polaroid shot. Brunch was necessary.

Sara and I wanted to reach the Grand Canyon by sunset. We believed this was possible, but our goodbye’s (and Butters’ desire to play Need for Speed) were delaying us. This was the last time I would see some of my best friends from L.A. This was my west coast family. I rushed the hugs to hold back tears. If it wasn’t for “Call Me Maybe” then I would have kept quiet almost the entire ride that day. Too many thoughts. When would I see these people again? Will I ever return to California? Am I making the right decision? Should I have tried harder? Shut up brain! Hey I just met you…

We were a little outside of Vegas when we saw it. The orange and pink sign that could only be Dunkin Donuts. As Ex-Bostonians we were thrilled. I hadn’t had Dunkin in years—it’s practically an East Coast delicacy. I needed that coffee. I had to have it. So we stopped and indulged our nostalgic taste buds.

A few hours later we were dealing with the consequences. Our bladders were growing larger by the minute. As my brain was getting the message that I should pull over, the caffeine was seeping through my veins and the sun appeared as if it was going down even faster. There was no time to stop. We yelled at Butters in the car as if he could hear us. Cursing him and pretending it was his fault that we might not see the canyon in daylight. Illogically blaming him for our small bladders. Signs started to appear, “Grand Canyon 20 miles”. We could make it. It was a straight shot. One long road in the middle of the dessert. We wondered why we couldn’t see it already since the Grand Canyon is supposed to be so grand. Maybe the it didn’t exist? Our thoughts were growing delirious. My bladder was yelling at me. I offered to pull over on the side of the road. Sara wouldn’t do it. I said we’d probably have to do it at some point. She thought people would see us. Psh.

“Grand Canyon 10 miles”. The sky was starting to turn gray. Must make it by sunset! But this didn’t seem like the sunset. It was a mix between clouds and smoke. We passed a sign that said “Prescribed Fire Ahead. Do Not Report.” What the hell? I babbled something about planned fires to prevent wildfires. “I took Natural Disasters in college”—that joke of a science class at art school. Sara mocked me later. White flakes began to hit our windshield but there was no moisture left on my window. It must be ash from the fire, we thought. We kept driving and it was getting darker. Our legs were shaking we had to pee so bad. The flakes fell more heavily now. Is this snow? Oh my God! It’s snow! It’s snowing at the Grand Canyon! Where the hell are we?!

We were confused, giddy and in desperate need of a bathroom. Can’t get out of the car to pee in the snow—that would be crazy. I thought about it. But I was wearing shorts still from when we left Vegas. What a climate change in just a few hours. Thankfully we pulled up to the entrance for the park.

“Are you girls coming back tomorrow?” the attendant asked.

“Nope,” we laughed. Still shaking, still in disbelief that we even made it and that it was SNOWING.

He hands us a map and let’s us in for free. All of the other cars were exiting the park. We rushed into the first stop with a sign for a restroom. There was no time to think. We threw on shoes and ran out of the car. We were laughing. It was snowing. We run as fast as we can to the bathroom. Ahhhhhhh. Sweet relief.

It was freezing out. IT WAS SNOWING! I was wearing shorts. People were blatantly staring. I looked like a hooker. Sara snapped pictures for future embarrassment. The worst part is, we still didn’t know where the Grand Canyon was. We were looking at maps. There are paths from this point to get to the rim. It’s too cold and I needed pants so we decided to get in the car and drive to a closer point. There was no sun. No chance for epically gorgeous shots of red rocks and a seemingly endless crater. We might as well just find a spot.

This map was confusing. I was still wearing shorts. It was getting dark and the snow was continuous. We found a parking lot near a lodge and walk.

Alas! The Grand Canyon!

Looks like a giant hole. 

Too bad it’s snowing.

It’s freezing. 

I had that urge to lean over the edge to see how deep it is but I don’t. We could barely see ahead of us, I doubt I could see the bottom even if I didn’t fall over. Sara’s already walking back to the car. Laughing.

Well, I guess that was the Grand Canyon.

We get in the car and note to ourselves that we should learn more about the Grand Canyon. We turned up the heat and drove on. It’s absolutely dark at this point and some of the cars ahead of me are stopped. I anxiously wanted to swerve around them like the Los Angeles driver I have become, but then an elk runs through our view. Oh my God! It’s snowing and there are elk! We get out. Our cameras can’t even take pictures it was so dark. I yelled at Sara to turn off her flash.

“These things will eat you,” some stranger said.

Then what in the world are you doing getting closer?!  

Pitch black at this point. The snow was reflecting light off of my headlights. After five minutes, we were the only people around. It was eerie out as we try to exit the park. Where was the exit? Would this snow ever stop? There was a giant black abyss to our left—clearly the canyon. It appeared more massive in the dark. I wanted to stop but when I parked and turned my headlights off I worried I’d get eaten by elk zombies. We kept driving. We drove on one road until we reached our hotel in Tuba City, Arizona where “they observe Daylight Savings”. A phrase I will never quite understand. Sara and I wondered if we ever actually left the Grand Canyon, if we were in a twilight zone of a road trip and if we would ever make it anywhere after this.

We laughed ourselves to sleep and I realized the best part is that we didn’t have to make it anywhere after this. I left. I got out of L.A. My best friend was driving across the country with me and all I needed to do was wake up and drive. Life was just instantly simplified to living. Each day for the next two weeks was focused on feeling. On keeping our eyes open. On dancing and laughing and coming back to who we really are.

The snowy Grand Canyon cleansed me. 

That first day I shed the skin I had been holding on to far too long. I rid myself of any regrets, negative thoughts, worries or fears that I had in the last year and a half. I suddenly could only remember the good that came of L.A. The parts of me that I built up. I was hundreds of miles away from what I became there and I could feel myself returning to the person I used to be. But this time I felt even stronger. I was bringing the old me to the new.

I was beginning to process what I was doing. I made a choice to go home. To return to a place I claimed I would never go back to. But I needed to return now, as this person, with a refreshed outlook on life and the memory of sunshine and love deeply seeded in my heart. I made the right decision and I was rewarded with a trip that I hadn’t anticipated to be so fulfilling. This trip was my gift for making the conscious effort to change myself and my future. And it was the perfect start.

Destination a Day 29

Amsterdam is the only place where you can leisurely ride your bike from the Anne Frank House, to The Sex Museum, to a “Coffee” Shop. 

Destination a Day 28

Dubrovnik, Croatia. We took a boat ride out on the Adriatic Sea. Exhausted and in need of some R&R, the ocean showed us the light.

Destination a Day 27

This is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. Anacapri is the highest point on the Italian island of Capri. You have to take a chairlift up to this top point where this statue awaits you.

Destination a Day 26

This is on my way up the Spanish Steps in Rome. It seemed all too poetic to find a red rose  at the bottom with the petals splattered about. I envision some highly dramatic romantic scene occurred right before I was there. Or maybe someone just dropped their rose.

Destination a Day 25

Leave me a love letter in Verona. My heart melts at the endless words in hopes of everlasting passion and love.

Destination a Day 24

I decided to get lost in Venice, Italy with my friend Jess. We took off from the touristy square in the center of the city and explored the local streets. We walked along the canals where Italian people spent their every day. Wouldn’t it be nice to do your grocery shopping here?

Destination a Day 23

Barcelona was warm and relaxing. I spent the siesta on the waterfront with a few friends just enjoying the sunshine.