I Came, I Saw, I Conquered: The Family Vacation

We meet again.

 Maybe I'm belaboring on my vacation a bit too much -- you've already had to hear my lead-in to my vacation, then my recap on returning to London -- but if you've loyally read my insightful posts (I use both "loyally" and "insightful" loosely), then you probably noticed that I left out mentioning just over half of my trip...until now! A month later and I still wish I was back there. Blame it on Kinder Eggs withdrawal or maybe a nostalgia for a guilt-free binge on pizza, pasta and gelato, but my visit to Italy is still on my mind.

Unlike the first leg of my trip where I was travelling solo, hoping to spend my days leisurely enjoying old sights and friends, I went to Rome (and Florence!) to visit my brother, who had been studying there since January. Not only would I be seeing my brother for the first time in months, but my parents were going to meet me and my brother there as well. Talk about switching gears.

My days in London consisted of sleeping in, sporadically gorging myself on snacks and big meals, and trying to survive night after night in a different club. I knew that my trip to Rome would be a completely different pace, not only because of the cultural differences between the UK and Italy, but because, well, I was suddenly going from one-time-pseudo-local to obnoxious American tourist sans fanny-pack. Instead of being able to seamlessly hop from tube stop to tube stop, I'd be dragging around my camera and map, hoping not to annoy anyone as I tried to get the perfect picture in front of the Colosseum with the obligatory cheesy grin.

Oh, hello, Colosseum. Lookin' good for your age

Not only was I going from familiar to foreign, but this time, I had travel companions in tow: my family. This was not your typical family vacation of yore. I can remember, as a kid, going to places that were pretty kid-friendly: beach resorts, Cape houses, Disney World, etc. Those vacations were pretty heavily structured mainly because of the fact that, at eight years old, I could barely tie my shoes let alone have a sense of time management needed to move the vacation along. I was incapable not only of packing for myself, but basically figuring out how to manage in this new vacation zone. Heck, I passed out on a ferry en route to Disney World -- do you think that I was capable of providing any input aside from "I need to take a picture with Cinderella!?" Exactly.

This time, my brother and I not only had more say as to what we wanted to do and when, but we were more familiar with being abroad than my parents. Yes, my parents' travel experience may trump ours in terms of being prepared, but when it came down to interacting with locals, figuring out the best schedule for sightseeing and being aware of the nuances of travel abroad, our suggestions suddenly held some legitimate weight.

There was less of a divide between us and our parents . We were no longer helpless or relegated to strollers. My parents could safely take a picture without the fear that we would wander off. We could go into a bathroom alone, and my parents would be rest-assured that not only would we emerge unscathed, but we wouldn't get lost en route back to them. My brother and I had become travellers in our own right, capable of navigating, adapting to the cultural differences and able to problem-solve when needed. The pressure of needing to take care of my brother and me in addition to planning the day-to-day activities of travel could finally be taken off -- we can take care of ourselves, we can help figure out how to spend our time on the trip, and better yet, we can all enjoy and appreciate everything we were doing.

I'll admit, it isn't quite a family vacation without an argument, but for the most part, my family and I were able to enjoy all aspects of our time together. Not only did we bond over being able to visit the Colosseum or admire the Sistine Chapel together, but we could all recognize the overwhelming impressiveness of each of these historical, artistic and cultural sights. Seeing these things for the first time was something that we did together -- and whenever we think back on seeing Michelangelo's David or walking through Palatine Hill, we'll think of being together too. We were able to share an knowing appreciation for the sights as opposed to just checking off another item on the tourist to-do list.

I suppose you can see why, despite being firmly grounded here in Boston, my thoughts occasionally float back to my trip a mere month ago. The sights, the food, the lack of alarm clocks... It's amazing that I was even able to convince myself to return home. In the mean time, I look forward to the family trips of the future -- who knows where we'll all go next?!

Reuniting with My Former Flame: London

society6.com

It's been just over a month since I returned from my tryst across the pond in good ol' London town. A little under two years since my summer there, I arrived at Heathrow airport sans companions, alone with my luggage, an old Oyster card and a wave of jetlag on the brink of rendering me incapable of functioning. I remember when I had arrived there in June 2011, fueled by nervous adrenaline and a pit in my stomach that can only be described as the harsh realization that I was thousands of miles away from every single person I knew. This time, both the pit and adrenaline were gone. I focused on getting a cab -- I knew exactly where to go, what to do and what to expect. The fear that my overseas excursion would swallow me whole and leaving me cowering in the large belly of a foreign city was a distant memory. Instead, I sleepily made my way to my friend's apartment, encouraged by familiar sights and early morning London traffic.

Despite all of this, hopping right back into things, it didn't actually hit me that I had finally returned to the place where I had so many fond memories. In fact, it wasn't until the next day (Saturday) that I was faced with the reality: I was back in London. It hit me when I was riding the London Underground -- the tube. After a bit of assistance, my Oyster card was not only re-activated, but even had some money on it. I headed to one of my favorite spots/events: Borough Market.

My friend was sleeping in, so I set forth alone, safely hiding my A to Z map in my bag, lest anyone mistake me for an annoying American tourist. I could hardly be called that -- I had a UK phone number! A working Oyster card! A decrepit tube map! As I headed towards the appropriate platform to board the tube, I was shocked at how effortless it all seemed. It had been two years, but all of the city's familiarity embraced me. Steadying myself for my ride towards the London Bridge stop, I felt like an old friend was hugging me -- granted, that may have just been the fact that I was packed like a sardine into the subway car, but I felt an amazing sense of contentedness. I was back. Had I even left? There may be a famous song about leaving one's heart in San Francisco, but in that moment, I was sure my heart had been left in London.

The rest of the week was a happy medium of sightseeing, relaxing and partying. There was no pressure to fit in tourist attractions/major sights nor was there an urgency to plan my schedule down to the very last minute. I had a few goals -- visit an old friend, see the British museum, have a Kinder egg -- that were easily attainable and would insure a successful trip.

I remember talking about my trip prior to leaving with a friend I met that 2011 summer in London. We were trying to figure out whether or not our love for London was something that would pass with time or with another visit. I wondered that too while en route to the city. However, once roaming those all-too-familiar streets, emerging myself in the London's busy activity and foot traffic, I realized that my love affair with London was far from over. If anything, it only reaffirmed my fondness for the city and its people. Certainly, I could list some of the things I love about London: the almost seamless way it blends modernity with its rich history, the wit and dry humor shared by its friendly inhabitants, the way it welcomes a diverse international population and yet still is very distinctly "British..." And yet, still, I know that other cities exhibit qualities similar to these (in their own way). I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but I believe Samuel Johnson says it best: "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." Suffice to say, I am anything but exhausted.

Ciao for Now...

My ex- boyfriend, Big Ben.
We couldn't survive the distance

I know there have been times when I go M.I.A. from posting, but this time, it's for a reason! If you've read two of my most recent posts, you'll know that I will be travelling to London and then to Rome over the next two weeks. Try not to miss me too much -- I will share tales of my adventures and, most likely, misadventures upon my return! Cheers!

 

Returning to Rome... three years later...

Why Hello, Old Friend: Thoughts on Returning Abroad

Oh, hey girl.
(http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/queen-e-pop-art-terry-collett.jpg)

I've had a case of the Fridays all day (is that a thing?) and all I've been able to do is look wistfully towards the weekend and my upcoming vacation in order to get me through the final afternoon slump. Freedom is on the horizon -- in the form of Saturday, Sunday and a ten-day getaway across the pond.

As I lose myself in daydreams, I realize that in returning to London and Rome (but especially, London) I will be reuniting with old stomping grounds. I visited Rome briefly for a few days during a college trip to Italy, but I spent an entire summer in London. How strange that a foreign city could seem so familiar, while remaining so geographically distant from my everyday life. I'm not sure how I'll react to landing back in Heathrow, riding the Tube and meandering through the same streets I explored just under two years ago. Will the city welcome me back or dismiss me as a once-tourist and now-stranger?

It's different from other vacations I've had where I've returned to the same place. Every year, my family skips out of suburbia and plops next to the beach in Cape Cod -- but that is a two-hour drive from home, littered with Boston-pride and New England's creature comforts. I have friends who live on Cape Cod and I'm not relegated to a once-a-year visit to Massachusetts' hook, or even once-every-so-many-years visit. London, on the other-hand, is obviously not so easily accessible from this side of the Atlantic. With a six to seven hour flight separating me from the the US's former frenemy (circa 1776), I wonder if I will seamlessly re-acquaint to the city or be overwhelmed by a surprising exoticism of it all. Is it just like riding a bike? Will I hop back on that metaphorical Schwinn only to find that I need training wheels? Or will I be able to pedal around the city, finely attuned to my place on the left side of the road?

My summer in London left me with an indelible affection and attachment to the city. Whenever I click through Facebook photos or peruse my old travel blog, the nostalgia inevitably resurfaces and I think back to everything I did there -- both the trivial and the anecdote-worthy. I'm obviously curious to be back there and perhaps even re-trace some of my old steps, to see if this nostalgia returns full-force and if I remember the same sights and smells. Some of my favorite memories are the least ostentatious or illustrious. I remember walking to Kings Cross in the morning to take the tube to work and just feeling like I was a part of it -- as though, I was one sort of minute piece of energy contributing to the overall life of the city. The air was fresh and crisp, the streets still wet from the morning rain, and yet, amid the serenity of climate, the people's vibrancy propelled me forward, invigorating me. I always felt a rush whenever I was diving into a different part of the city -- whether it was getting lost and then surprisingly stumbling upon my desired location or when I simply took the time to take in the people as I walked through the streets. I suppose this sort of sensation is not purely indicative of my experience of London, but of travel, in general, but because I had these inaugural feelings of developing familiarity with London, I now think of it as an old friend associated with a summer filled with memories.

I'm not quite sure what to expect, really. I'm hoping to fit in time to see some familiar faces, but also to  venture to corners of the city that were left unexplored while I was there.I'm sure this trip will not signify any sort of end to my love affair with the city. Instead, I'm almost certain it will rekindle it, as I feel as though once I am, again, caught up in London's energy, I will feel the overwhelming urge to ditch my flight, stay put, and peddle my way into some sort of Notting Hill apartment. 

If you don't hear from me in April, it's probably because I'm still there...

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

Because everyone loves the Go-Go's...

Hard to believe, but April will mark my one-year anniversary at my current job. Last March, I was sitting around my house, moping in boredom still wearing my post-workout clothes, talking to my dog and voluntarily vacuuming the house. Since then, I've been facing a tough commute, the much-more-difficult-than-it-looks-task of walking upstairs in pencil skirts and going to bed early. I could actually be qualified as a real grown-up -- that is, if you wish to disregard the fact that my bedroom is down the hallway from my parents.

In reflecting on the past year of 9-to-5 fun, early mornings and eight hours per day with my computer screen, I realized something that should have already hit me: my life is now (and potentially forever) devoid of vacations. Okay, yes, I know -- DRAMATIC. But hear me out?

Many jobs offer vacation time to employees or paid-time-off of some sort, but that's not really what I'm talking about. When is the next time I'm going to be able to take a three month hiatus in the summer, only to return to my beloved seat come September? Sure, that happens K-12, and then in college, but then what? Where do my vacations go!? Will I ever be able to take that much time off ever again? Winter break, spring break and summer break become nothing but fond, distant memories of a time where wrinkles were non-existent, coffee was mainly used to assist in all-nighters rather than to survive workdays and you could still get a student discount at J.Crew.

Once you participate in the daily grind of office life, ditching study carrels for cubicles, the most you can hope for is a flexible company policy that gives you a generous amount of vacation time. Even then, don't count on summer vacation lasting from Memorial Day until after Labor Day. Cue hand to forehead: doh! 

I realize that this is something that should have occurred to me last spring, after graduating early and working throughout the summer whereas my recently graduated friends had the summer off before joining me in the dire workforce that fall; however, the novelty of working hadn't yet worn off and my new routine was still foreign enough to throw me off of my game. Now, as I approach that one-year-mark of working full time, I've noticed that it has all begun to sort of wear on me. The winter has been terrible, it's always cold and I am wavering between being completely burnt-out and just chronic agitation.

On the horizon, though, is that old friend: vacation time. Just as I was beginning to feel defeated by the perils of my wintry suffering, I looked at my calendar and saw that I had approximately eleven days off from work (seven being business days.) Finally! My reprieve! This will be the longest amount of time away from my desk (and any sort of desk for that matter) since I started working  part-time last March. Even though I'm not going somewhere tropical, just the thought of leaving unpredictable and unseasonably cold New England for a week and a half is enough to light a fire within me. The transition from college to working full-time has been a difficult one, and even moreso when you factor in that real life does not give you a break -- any breaks. I haven't had my usual month off in the winter to collect myself and re-charge, nor have I had three consecutive months to sleep in, stay out late and enjoy the sunshine. Yes, I realize I may sound a bit whiny -- but after 16-17 years of being subject to a year filled with ample breaks and time-off, it can be jarring and disconcerting not just to your routine, but to your overall being. It doesn't help that US companies aren't exactly known for their generosity when it comes to paid-time-off. I am stuck at my cubicle for eight hours a day, five days a week and then trapped in my car for at least another fifteen hours a week -- who has two thumbs and is in dire need of a break? THIS GIRL!

Suffice to say, I am extremely excited for my 11-day excursion. I definitely need time to be away from my usual routine to re-charge my batteries and take on springtime (if it ever comes to Boston). Hopefully, I will return in April feeling inspired (and motivated to write lots of new posts!) 

I Left My Heart in San...Juan

view from our hotel room

Well, folks... I am back. My flight touched back down in Boston Sunday night and I returned a much crispier version of my former self. While on vacation, I certainly had a few goals in mind: relax, have fun and enjoy spending uninterrupted time with my family. Did I do all of those things, you ask? I believe that I was able to accomplish all of those goals and more. I'd like to share a few highlights from my trip with you:

Me ziplining with my family of exclamation points.

Zip-lining:
I have zip-lined before -- but never on this scale. My family and I booked a trip to go zip-lining at La Marquesa Forest Reserve in Guaynabo city, which is around 20-30 minutes outside of San Juan. All of us were at different comfort levels. My brother was seemingly fearless, I was excited-nervous as was my dad and my mother was absolutely terrified. Despite all of this though, it was such a fun experience. All of us were able to challenge ourselves to some degree. I was finding it especially difficult to learn how to brake. I knew what I was supposed to do to brake, but my reaction every time was getting in the way of that process. My brother seamlessly zipped from perch to perch, while on the other end of the extreme, my mother was just thankful to get to perch to perch. The whole time, we were zipping through the forest, weaving between the wildlife. All of us learned that doing something like this requires support and encouragement and a little bit of bravery.

Please excuse the terrible quality of this video... I was using my point-and-shoot camera.

But just wanted you to get a feel for walking for a little bit through Old San Juan

Shopping in Old San Juan:
While we spent most of the time hanging out on the beach or walking around our local area by the hotel, my mom and I decided to break from the rest of the pack and visit Old San Juan. The area has a European-charm with its colorful buildings accented by white, sun-bleached trim, crowded streets and small piazzas. Unlike Europe though, there was a sort of vibrant, friendly flavor enhanced by the locals artisans' friendly smiles or the latin music pouring out of restaurants and cafes. It was a nice afternoon, but the scorching heat definitely meant that we couldn't spend too long hopping from shop to shop. My mom and I enjoyed lunch looking out at the neighborhood before heading back to the hotel in need of serious rehydration and a dip in the pool. My favorite part of our early afternoon trip though was getting to buy a few trinkets from artisans, who explained to us how they made each of their items and were enthuasiastic to share their stories.

Just hanging out in Old San Juan

Dancing Queen:
One of my favorite nights during my trip was hanging out at the hotel bar. Doesn't sound too exciting when I say it like that, and in truth, it wasn't too exciting in the beginning. After a long dinner just outside the hotel, my brother and I weren't quite ready to call it a night so we decided to hang out in the lounge/bar in the hotel lobby. There was a DJ and a dance floor, but minimal dance activity save for two girls who were going off and on the dance floor depending on the song. Now, I don't know about you, but I love to dance -- especially when it's a song I love. So the combination of vacation mentality + good music (+a teensy bit of alcohol) was surging in my system and I now had this mission to dance -- and to get everyone else to dance too. At some points, it was just me and my mother (by force) dancing and goofing around on the dance floor. Other times, me and those two girls. But eventually, my shameless dancing was somehow inviting other people to dance and I started encouraging those lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor to join in. I had made the dance floor go from empty to filled -- and filled with energy at that. I even managed to get an impromptu latin dance lesson from somehow who seemed to dance flawlessly. Between twirling and laughing, I was basically a professional. By the end of the night, both my brother and I were not only having a great time, but making new friends in the process. It really shed some light on the phrase "dance like no one is watching," because just a teensy bit of bravery on the dance floor allowed everyone else to let loose and enjoy themselves as well.

Family time:
Obviously, my vacation in Puerto Rico was made possible thanks to my parents. They generously shared what probably should've been a vacation for just the two of them (as they were celebrating both a wedding anniversary and a birthday milestone) and it turned out to be a really great time. With both my brother and I having spent the last two years or so in college together at the same time, getting the four of us under the same roof can sometimes prove difficult. However, here was an opportunity for the four of us not only to be together, but to relax and have fun together. Sure, the trip wasn't without its squabbles, but for the most part, we were able to put that aside and soak in some sunshine and some especially good memories. I sometimes think as we get older we become more apprehensive to go on a family vacation and instead, opt for more trips with friends or even boyfriends/girlfriends. But I think there is something special about a family who can still have fun together and enjoy each other no matter what age -- and I think my family was able to do that.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Since my life has gone from zero to 60 in a matter of a few weeks, I have been trying to find a routine that works for me. However, amid the endless emails, constant tasks and various shifts at the mall, I have been patiently (well, maybe more like, impatiently) awaiting the day I would be leaving the currently cold and gray suburbs of Massachusetts and migrating to warmer climates.

Yes, you heard me! I am going on vacation. Despite my title's homage to John Denver, I do know when I'll be back again... so while I know I have been slacking with my posts, I promise that I will return from my beach vacation in Puerto Rico well-rested and ready to blog! So in the mean time, get excited for posts filled with my latest of life's pickles, beach pictures and anecdotes about my family vacation...Just the kind of amusement and anticipation you have been waiting for!