During our 2018 French class trip to France, we had the best tour guide ever. Rania was the sweetest Italian woman with whom I shared my deep love for ice cream and chic sunglasses. Part of what made her so amazing (among countless other things) was that she planned out daily photo challenges for us students.
These challenges ranged from “best Eiffel Tower pic” to “re-enact pirate activity on the shores of the English Channel”. The winners of each day got a special treat hand-picked by her. My best friend on this trip (Hailey) and I always gave it our best attempt, but only had one winning submission during the entire trip.
The day when we went to the Louvre, our challenge was to bring artwork to life. We BODIED this challenge, and would stop at nothing to nab this win. Honestly, I don’t really remember much of anything else from the Louvre other than this challenge.
Enjoy our collection of submissions below, ranging from least to most chaotic.
Soooo anyways we won by a landslide. Nobody came close to our creativity and willingness to lay on the floor. We won some fancy lilac candies in Honfleur for our efforts. Although, I have 0 recollection of how they tasted or if we even liked them. Upon texting Hailey, she states “I feel like they definitely tasted like air freshener”.
There are very few things I would change about my trip to Italy in December of 2024. Specifically, Florence was nearly 100% perfect from start to finish.
However, there is one moment that stands out as potentially not being my finest. The night prior, we had the best experience EVER at our wine tasting and brought a bottle home. Obviously, this needed to be finished by the time we left Italy in just 3 nights (light work).
The time is early afternoon and the vibe I was looking for was wine cheese cracker grape if you know what I mean. The person I was traveling with had the bad habit of leaning into the jet lag, so she wanted to take a nap. No problem! I would just run out and grab the snacks while she slept.
I set out on my little walk with no set destination other than to find a block of cheese to gnaw on. Everything else I imagined this vibe with we had already, but I just needed the cheese. We are literally in Italy, this definitely would not be hard.
I begin walking around the blocks and am casually window shopping as I go. After about 30 mins, I am starting to be a little confused about how I have yet to pass a single grocery or cheese store on this trek. After an hour, my concern turns into frustration.
I texted my two friends who had studied abroad here asking about where I could find cheese and they jokingly responded along the lines of “anywhere”… Finally I was given the name of a grocery store. I maps-ed it and the closest was conveniently a full hour in the opposite direction of where I had walked 🙂
I was honestly giving up on my dream of wine and cheese. I walked into LUSH to calm down and rubbed free lotion samples all over my body to try to distract from my failed cheese mission. Am I just stupid to think that walking around Florence for an hour that I would just stumble across cheese?
I moped back to the hotel a different path from the one I had taken originally and, you guessed it, still did not come across a single vendor selling cheese. I did find this outdoor leather market which was cool, I guess…
When I got to the hotel room I laid down on the bed with my glass of wine, cheese-less, and cried. I wasn’t actually that torn up, but I just REALLY wanted a piece of cheese </3 You just wouldn’t understand unless you craved parm reg as much as I do. The person I was traveling with certainly didn’t, LOL.
Finally I got over myself and we made our way to dinner and everything was fine. But I will never forget my failed cheese mission and feeling so humiliated over a block of parm.
p.s. I DID get my cheese when I made it to Venice and had my moment, so this is a life lesson that good things come to those who wait.
In December of 2026, I booked a yoga retreat on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala with Eagles Nest Atitlan. I was looking for a retreat that was more or less all inclusive in Central America and this checked all of my boxes. I booked the reservation, my flights, and closed my computer.
I got an email later asking if I would like to book a shuttle from the airport to the retreat for $150 one way. Do I look like I am made of money??? I would figure it out one way or another how to get there. Thankfully, I did my research ahead of time and came prepared for what was in store.
step 1: guatemala city to panajachel
I booked my shuttle ticket through Guatego ahead of time to pick me up from the airport at 1:45pm. My flight was landing at 1, so I figured that was probably enough time to get through customs and find my driver.
They sent a very stern “we will only wait 5 minutes for you” message and if I missed it I would definitely be SOL because the next shuttle wasn’t until around 6pm.
Customs took a smidge longer than expected, and I found myself running out the door. The Guatemala City airport exit is a lot more overstimulating than one might expect! There are many taxi drivers offering to drive you wherever, family members greeting their loved ones with big, flashy balloons, and a lot of people in not a lot of space.
I made it through the crowed and exited the airport to be sure I knew where my shuttle driver was picking me up. I figured I would get my eyes on this spot, then go back into the airport vestibule to find an ATM to take out some Guatemalan Quetzal (cash). Unfortunately, once you exit the only way back in was through security again.
I wasn’t super stressed about not having cash at this point. I knew I would eventually need cash for the ferry and tuk tuks, but we had a stopover in Antigua and there must be an ATM there, right?
I connected with my shuttle driver and took the back seat. I notice that there are no outlets, so I am immediately mindful of how much I am using my phone. I knew I had a long trip ahead of me. Our shuttle ended up leaving with 3 less passengers as they had not been as lucky as me to make it through customs in time.
We were off to Antigua! I spent my time napping, reading, and journaling during this trip. I was especially obsessed with the Chicken Busses which are reclaimed school busses decorated beautifully and used as public transport for the locals.
After about 3 hours, we made our stop in Antigua. My plan to find an ATM here was quickly lost after our “stopover” consisted of me stepping from one shuttle into another and immediately leaving the city. I’m still not stressed though!
By the time I got on the second shuttle, the sun was setting so reading and journaling were off the table. I used this shuttle to continue catching up on sleep. About an hour before our destination I made a bit of an alarming realization.
The last ferry to get from Panajachel to San Marcos leaves at 8pm, and it looked like we were going to get to Panajachel at 7:45 pm. Which left very little time for me to find an ATM and the docks, lol. I’m still not really stressed, honestly. One way or the other, I am making it to this damn yoga retreat.
step 2: panajachel to san marcos
As we arrived to the docks in the shuttle, our driver’s accomplice met us. He, in broken English, explained that the last ferries have left and our only option is to pay for him to take us on his private boat. But don’t worry, he takes card!
The crew he was telling this to included me, 2 British girls, and a Mexican man (A). A came in clutch here because he was the only one of us that spoke Spanish. He was offering us the discounted price of $13 per person if the 4 of us went with him (the ferry is typically $3 per person).
Personally, I am completely down for this option. $13 is not ridiculous to me and I don’t have cash! Once we walk down to the docks, the other public ferry operators are yelling “last call” and the 2 girls take off. Apparently to them $13 WAS ridiculous….
This left me and A. The private boat operator now was saying that because they bailed, the price would be raised to $26 per person. Honestly, I’m still ok with this LOL. This seems to be my only option at this point and I still don’t have cash. A and I chat and A thinks he can get him lower on the price.
I watch like a damsel in distress as they have a bartering match in Spanish over the price. Finally, they settle on $19, which- you guessed it- I’m fine with! We boarded this boat in the dark and set sail across Lake Atitlan to San Marcos.
A offered to put his card down and then I could give him back cash once I found an ATM. The ferry ride was about 20 minutes and we pondered if there was a Loch Ness Monster-adjacent entity living in this lake (or anything else that could kill us)
step 3: downtown san marcos to eagle’s nest
Once we landed at the dock, there is a narrow street of vendors leading from the water to the main downtown of San Marcos. I figured A was just going to accompany me to find the ATM, but he decided to part ways towards his hostel. This left me wandering the streets alone at 9pm for an ATM.
To get to the retreat, I could either hike up a very steep volcano in the dark or hire a tuk tuk to drive me up. I figured the latter was slightly safer at this time. The downtown wasn’t super massive, so I figured I could just wander around and come across an ATM.
While I found many beautiful Christmas lights, dogs, and locals cooking delicious-smelling food, I did not find any cash. Let me just remind you that I have not had access to a bathroom or any food since the airplane approximately 10 hours prior 🙂
I eventually decided wandering around aimlessly was probably a bad idea. I approached one of the tuk tuk’s and was surprised to find the driver to be a boy who couldn’t have been older than 8 years old. I held up my phone at 10% with “Where do I get cash” in google translate to Spanish. He pointed me to a little bodega and finally I had my quetzals.
I came back and found the same little boys and they offered me the ride for $2. I honestly loved this random little ride with these boys and felt like I was funding the livelihood of Guatemalan youth. Even if at the end he told me it was actually going to be $2.50… Sneaky little boys.
Finally, I had made it to the entrance of the retreat. Any by entrance, the beginning of the 10 minute hike through the jungle to the retreat. Of course my phone was dead by this point, so I was just vibing with my moonlit hike and made it there in one piece!
The most clutch part of this experience was having a super light backpack so it was easy for me to quickly transition from transport to transport. At no point did I ever feel truly unsafe or stuck. I guess that is just the magic energy of Guatemala!
At the end of the trip, I was greeted with a bowl of warm soup and super great vibes at the retreat! And THANKFULLY a bathroom. I had officially made it in once piece and was excited to finally able to relax! The end.
From June-August of 2025, I was on my first physical therapy clinical rotation in Cape May, NJ. I was working in an outpatient physical therapy clinic treating orthopedic conditions (think joint replacements, strains, broken bones, etc.).
I had a really mixed experience at this clinic. I enjoyed my patients, the location, and the autonomy I was allowed as a student. On the other hand, I was lacking in mentorship, had an extremely busy schedule, and was frustrated with the experience I was having with my advisor.
In an outpatient clinic you see each patient 2-3 times per week. I was only there for 8 weeks, so most of these patients I had been seeing the entire summer and developed great relationships with. I don’t know what it is about goodbyes, but for some reason I always cry. This day was not excluded from this pattern as I was given thoughtful gifts and said farewell to patients.
I think I may have even been loud enough about wanting a grand farewell that a patient I didn’t even see that often brought me an ice cream cake. I was gifted books, gift cards, and very sweet notes of appreciation. I was having a really great day and looking froward to an even more fun evening. As my farewell gift, the staff were going on a booze cruise in Wildwood, NJ together at sunset.
I was on top of the world and feeling so proud of my time here. One of my last requirements to finish clinical is reviewing the rubric students are graded on by their clinic advisor that is sent to their school, which determines if we pass or fail.
We sit down in this meeting and my ego is instantly popped. I see the words “decreased in competence and initiative” in the very first box. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!? I felt every single human emotion in the span of 5 seconds, but landed on rage as the winner. You’re meaning to tell me, after a summer of teaching myself, this is how you’re summing up my experience to my school? BUT, you still like me enough to pay for a booze cruise to send me off?? Honestly none of it makes sense to me to this day.
I held it back as best as I could and stayed professional. I let it roll off my back and knew that the patient’s didn’t share his opinion and that was what mattered to me. I also knew there was no way I could fail this clinical. I finished the day quietly and let a single tear creep out as I headed to my booze cruise.
Flash forward about an hour as I watch this same man shotgun a White Claw on the side of a boat in a mildly-offensive golf shirt with a lei on. We only booked an hour, so he wasted no time pouring drinks. I just kept asking myself what the hell was going on. But hey, I will never say no to a free boat.
As we finished our trip, I promised I would come back the next week before officially leaving NJ (I didn’t…) and Irish goodbyed that man and my strange strange experience.
Leaving confused, tipsy, and with really mixed emotions about the experience, I found myself in Stone Harbor. Something about everything going on told me I needed to take myself out to dinner and specifically for a margarita.
Some people have a really hard time asking for a table for 1 at a restaurant. I don’t have whatever gene that is. I would take myself out to dinner every single day if I was rich. This night, I had a coconut margarita, chips & guac, elote corn, and fish tacos at Agave. YUMMMM.
Once I finished my meal and reset my vibe, I was ready to celebrate. I texted my friend living in Philadelphia and asked how soon she could be here. I was DETERMINED to have a damn good last day. Once she said 2 hours, I knew I had just enough time to run into the ocean in the dark, get home, shower, and be ready to party.
So anyways, that was the weird story of my weirdest last day of work. The moral of this one is that it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you, so you should probably just do whatever you want all the time. You’re the only one that can fix your own vibe!
Currently, I am typing this from an airplane to Atlanta. Once I land, I will seek out either a slice of cheese pizza or the impossible burger from Burger King. Then I will make my connection and head to my new home for the next 3 months: San Francisco. Poignantly, I am reflecting on the last time I moved across the country in 2022.
In 2022 I was wickedly depressed and freshly broken up with. All I could think about from my snowed-in dorm room was how much happier I would be living somewhere hot. I liked kids, I liked Florida, and I liked doing things seriously out of my comfort zone, so I applied for a job at a summer camp in Palm Harbor. I assumed the name “Calypso” and became the pseudo-mommy of fifteen 7-9year olds weekly.
I LOVED this time in my life. I was the head of the zipline course and spent my days encouraging girls to face their fears. When I wasn’t on the zips, I was paddling in the Gulf of Mexico, lounging on a beach, making the BEST banana boats over a campfire, and consoling little girls with splinters (there were a loooooot of splinters).
When I look back, I wasn’t afraid whatsoever to leave my home and dive into this. I live for that tingly feeling in your stomach when you step into the unknown.Traveling for leisure versus traveling for escape are very different things.
So now, nearly four years later, I am once again packing the same luggage for another trip across the country. Instead of tiny crop tops and bikinis, I now have scrubs and lab manuals. Thankfully I have left the depression in 2022. Once again I know not a single soul living in my accommodation or pretty much anything about the job I am walking in to. My only line of defense against the anxiety of it all is leaning into how exhilarating it is to be able to do what I do.
I love my home and I love my family and I will ALWAYS cry hugging my mom goodbye. That doesn’t change the fact that I silently cringe when my peers tell me they are choosing to do all of their clinical rotations at home (or even worse staying in Ithaca!) I feel so lucky!
If I hate it, it’s only 3 months. When I love it, I will be begging the days to go slower and time to freeze. And then in a few years the cycle will start all over again. Maybe Hawaii? Arizona? Australia 😉
