anywherebuthereitis

Lately I've been suffering from a strong case of what I like to call anywhere-but-here-itis. Being in one place for four months is seriously wearing on my sanity, which is bothersome and worrisome and many other somes I have yet to identify. But mostly I'm just scared. I have one more year of college left and after that things seem very final. Pick a career, pick a city, pick an apartment, and stay put. I'm afraid of being stuck, and I'm afraid of making the wrong decision, and more than anything I'm afraid that I'll never be able to find a home if I keep wandering. But I suppose it will all turn out in the end.

In the meantime I dream of far away places.

Mostly when I dream I dream of Florence. Florence with its little cars and cobbled roads and Italian sunsets.

But who knows? After all, life's a mystery.

norway.

About a year ago now, my brother and I set off on our Norwegian journey. Now, some people might think it's crazy to travel with only a sibling for company. I have to say there were a few times I wanted to take his head off, and I'm sure he felt similarly inclined, but it was an amazing trip.

It's true what they say about blood running thicker than water. I don't mean that in the distinction between loyalty for family as opposed to friends. It's just that the almost eerie similarities in our personalities makes us good co-travelers.

Then again, who wouldn't be a good co-traveler when every day you wake up to this:

Seems like yesterday, feels like a decade. Isn't that the way of things.

Time Capsule//Shells, Familiar Shores

It is an unimpressive place, significant only to those 

who have collected memories on its shores.

Perhaps if I lined up the shells of my childhood 

you could read in them the things my unkempt 

words can never say. 

siena.

As much as I love Florence (and I do love it dearly) there are times when a wanderer feels a bit claustrophobic. After all, even remarkable cities are cities. Walking the same streets in my tiny pixel of existence everyday can make me forget how lucky I am to be here. At such times one needs a bit of what the world likes to call perspective. For me that means getting my ass out of Florence. ASAP.

One of the lovely things about this city is how easy it is to get away. There are countless little towns all around. Some are nestled in mountains, some laze by the sea, Siena is tucked in the hills. Its sights are those of Tuscan postcards: uneven land rising like rounded waves and the tall cypress trees that proudly guard their villas. Even the view from a highway tells the character of this land.

Then there is Siena itself. Like many of the cities here, it was once an autonomous city-state. A solid wall surrounds it, to keep out those pesky Florentines, and to hide the treasures within. It seems that the early Tuscans took "hiding your valuables" seriously. My friend and I spent our day visiting the museums and and cathedral, getting a workout climbing steps, and (for me) enjoying a last summer peach. And when we got home at the end of the day, I felt my city was itself again. As beautiful as Siena is, I know where I belong.

Because Florence changes me; the essence of who I am is shifting here. If I don't look too closely, I can see it.