Beginnings

I wish I could say that I was a jet-setter before it was cool, but that would just be a lie. I was never the kid in elementary / middle school who came back from spring break with the braided, beaded, and bedazzled hair, courtesy of the islands.*

Nope. If anything, over spring break, I would get angst-y and cut my hair into “stylish” side bangs to better frame my acne-prone face. But I digress.

Anyway, I got my first real taste of traveling in college with one extremely lucky phone call home during my junior year...

“Dad, can I go to Ireland?” I dared to ask into the flip-phone receiver. And pulling out “all” the stops (aka the only reason my dad would EVER say yes), I added desperately, “ It would be school related... and a real resume booster. ” # classic

I listened whilst holding my breath, knowing full-well that I had only really called so that:

1) I could say that I made the attempt

2) Fail.

3) Remorsefully move on

Walking down the dimly lit lawn of my college’s campus, I never imagined in a thousand decades that my dad would reply with the simple answer (that truly changed my life)... “Sure!”

So, I was off to Ireland for two months with one of my best friends from college and all the expectations that you can pack into three suitcases.

Yes, I said it: 2 months, 3 colossal suitcases. (I am not a diva, but I need outfit options)

( ( ...that makes me sound like a diva, doesn't it ) )

Anyway, my friend and I stayed with an AMAZING host family and lived out our days on the western coast of the Green Isle. Luckily, I journaled religiously - so much of this blog will be stories from that experience until I can travel again…

...in 2 summers.

Until then, I hope you like reading poorly written, comma-happy sentences, my friends!

Skål xx

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*I have since vowed to never go to a place where there is an option to braid, bead, and bedazzle hair. We'll see how long that lasts.