note to self

Lugano was one of the best days that has ever happened to me. The morning I left, I woke up early to sit near the lake and watch the sunrise. I felt the air change and the light shift; I wrote a full page of goals for these coming months and then I ran a quick self-evaluation of the moment, trying to memorize everything I was feeling right then. And you know what? I realised that, while there are a million things to improve and work on, I like this person I am becoming.

So, note to self: you're okay. And full of bloomability.

all roads

Rome, surprisingly, feels like home. Probably just because it's nice to feel somewhat settled and back with people I know, but home nonetheless. Plus, it's summer here. I've missed the heat.

From my balcony at the hotel, you can see the Vatican---only a few minute's walk up the hill. A few of us just got back from a late-night visit, St. Peter's all lit up and the air finally cool and calming. I love this; I love this so much.

I just wish you all were here.

Svizzera! Bella, bella Svizzera!

Mostly this week has felt more like a celebration of Europe's various forms of public transportation, but you really can't complain of the long hours on a train when you have Switzerland outside your window. Today I arrived in Lugano, and I don't think I ever want to leave. For a girl who forever wants to live her literary loves, it doesn't get much better than this.

My friends, this is such the best.

parlez-vous frenglitalian?

It took a ferry, a train, the metro, and an unexpected night in Cherbourg, but I made it! And Paris, for the day that I get to spend here, has been mostly happiness. Biggest problem? I speak just enough French that people reply as if I'm fluent. It only gets worse if they happen to see my last name.

I also have the hardest time separating my French lessons from the Italian, so I make for quite the mangled mess of a conversationalist.

turns out,

I'm allergic to London. At least, it seems like I am: each trip I've made to this grand city ends in a terribly red, itchy rash on my ankles. Only London, every time. The good news is that it's gone within twenty four hours, and tomorrow I leave London for good (until I come back, of course).

It's been a crazy weekend, and a rather good farewell. Saturday was all markets, and Sunday all churches, and today was all me, wandering (Andrea left me this morning, and now I am all alone). I walked from Westminster to Covent Garden, and up through Camden to Oxford Street. I braved the Notting Hill Carnival for some excellent people watching and long thoughts of What Is This World Coming To, and by the time I wandered back home I had fifteen miles behind me and one new blister on my pinky toe. A glorious place, London. I am going to miss it.

But now, to the Continent! By Saturday I will be in Rome, and in between is all sorts of train rides and hostels and adventures. I have absolutely no idea exactly what I'm doing, and it feels great.

Huzzah!

what's on your mind

Goodbyes. So many of them. To Strait House, to Wales, to Andrea, to London. Usually I do not like them, but today I am okay with a few farewells. Today they seem more open than closed, more bright than shadowed. Airplanes, buses, trains whisk us off to every corner of this country toward home but, eventually, we'll be back. And in the meantime, there's ever so much for us to do.

da bo

Far away a voice is calling

Bells of memory chime

Come home again,come home again

They call through the oceans of time

We'll keep a welcome in the hillside

We'll keep a welcome in the Vales

This land you knew will still be singing

When you come home again to Wales

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{CYMRU AM BYTH}