I’ve felt airy all week. Day dreams fill my head. I mindlessly pick up my apartment. I’ve gone to Target more times this week than in the past three months and purchased several nice-to-haves, like a new water bottle and a pair of comfy sweatpants. My to-do lists are long and include tasks like “download books onto Kindle” and “wash towels and sheets.”
If you didn’t know, now you do. I’m traveling again.
I’ve always loved exploring new places. It’s one of the many reasons I moved to New York. This city is where the globe intersects, with nearly 700 languages spoken and 3.1 million immigrants from every corner of the world who call it their home. I travel to different countries by simply leaving my front door. I walk to Little Caribbean, which is just steps away from my apartment building, stroll through Chinatown on a night out, and eat as much food in Little India as I possibly can. Stepping into slices of the world in my own city excites me.
But it feels good to leave the country again.
My first big trip was with my mom. When my siblings and I graduated eighth grade, my mom agreed to take us all to our location of choice within the contiguous US - meaning no trips to Alaska or Hawaii. My sister chose New York, my brother chose Boston, and I chose Washington, D.C.
I was an eighth grader obsessed with politics. The only city for me was Washington, D.C. On my trip, I met my US Senator, toured the White House, and scoured the Newseum. My mom and I dined at fancy restaurants, took the metro, and lounged on the National Mall. I believed we were living like locals did. And I wanted to do that in every city I could.
After this first taste of travel, I was salivating for more.
In 2013, I went on a trip to Europe. Twenty of my high school classmates and I landed in Rome and two weeks later went home from London. We hit the classics. Our guide led us through Vatican City, under the shadow of the Duomo in Florence, in and out the alleyways in Venice, around the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and past Big Ben in London.
I will never travel that way again. We ran on a strict schedule and were led by a tour guide. The group was too big and there was no room for spontaneity. But it was a beautiful taste test to international travel. And I wanted more.
During my early college years, I called myself Tourist Tess on a trip through the East Coast. I started in Connecticut and acted like Rory Gilmore, traveled to New York City with a friend and got drunk at a horrible dive bar in the East Village - Bar None for readers who are interested. The trip ended in my college town of Philadelphia where I explored more parts of a city that was already familiar. I proved to myself that I could navigate travel logistics alone. It was a solo meal that was satisfying but still left me hungry.
My next international trip was less of a trip and more of a relocation. I lived 4 blissful months studying abroad in Belgium during the first semester of my Junior year of college.
I spent my weeks learning and drinking in Leuven, and working and eating in Brussels. I pretended to be Dutch at the cafes I frequented. I commuted on the train to the European Parliament where I worked as an aide for a Maltese member. I drank a lot of beer and coffee. I was puffy with substance and glee.
On the weekends, I traveled. My trips took me back to London, Paris and Italy, where I slowed down and was able to really see the cities. I cried while looking at the sparkly Eiffel Tower during a solo trip. I danced in a night club with friends in Florence until the sun came out. I spent Thanksgiving in London with family friends and snuggled with their cat.
I visited Ireland, Germany, Nice, Prague, Budapest, and Amsterdam for the first time. While I aim to travel like a local, I often fail. Sometimes it’s fun to experience what’s popular. On my excursions to new places, I enjoyed the Cliffs of Moher and the Hungarian baths. I nervously stopped at coffee shops in Amsterdam and apprehensively tagged the Lennon Wall in Prague. I fell asleep on a bench in Monaco and rode rollercoasters at Oktoberfest in Munich. I experienced an adventurous side of myself that I didn’t know existed. And I loved her.
Studying abroad was magical for me. It filled me up.
As I progressed through college, I visited Ireland once more with some of my best friends. I didn’t notice it during my first visit, but being in Ireland felt like being at home. A large part of my ancestral makeup is Irish and my bones knew where I was. My heart was warm as I traveled through the countryside. I saw a rainbow over the water, drank a lot of Guinness, and watched a friend get that sparkle that only travel can provide.
This trip was a nourishing snack to tide me over until the next big adventure.
After I graduated from college, my friend and I embarked on a two and a half month journey around Europe. Together, we traveled from Ireland all the way to Rome. I planned the outline and she booked our housing. During some cities, we spent a lot of time together. In others, we did our own thing.
We started in Ireland with other friends. It felt good to start such a journey somewhere familiar. We spent the majority of our first week in Galway where we strolled along the bay, swam in the water, and laid in the sun.
Our next stop was to London, where the same family friends I spent Thanksgiving with in 2016 showed us around and I got very drunk. Next was my study abroad town, where I showed my friend where I lived and danced and drank and fell that one time.
We hopped on the train to Paris for a lightening fast stay. Lovely Parisian unions were striking and our flights were cancelled. We quickly booked a bus from Paris to Madrid that took nearly 16 hours and stopped at many teeny restaurants where we stretched the limit of our Spanish.
In Madrid, we were awestruck by Flamenco dancers, drank sangria, and wandered around the lush city. We traveled to Grenada in Southern Spain. On a walking tour there, we heard an old man fart so loud that we both laughed until our stomachs hurt and our eyes filled with tears.
We met up with a friend in Barcelona and danced at clubs, kissed strangers, and stayed out until the sun rose. The next day we stared at the Gaudi Cathedral while violently hungover.
From Barcelona, my friend traveled to Switzerland while I flew to Cinque Terre. I spent 5 day hiking the mountains, lounging on huge rocks that bumped against the sea, and eating fresh calamari with hints of lemon. I sat on the singular street in Riomaggiore and watched a World Cup game with strangers. Cinque Terre reminded me of the beauty that is traveling alone.
We met back up in Rome where another friend joined us. We stayed in a mouthwatering apartment that opened up onto a green courtyard. We leveraged the stereotype that Italian men love blondes for free drinks. We stayed out all night with new friends and sang in the streets. We made wishes in the Trevi and fell in love with the Tiber.
The last stop on our trip together was Florence. We shopped in the leather market and laughed all through the Gucci museum. My friends found temporary love in a karaoke bar and I made us all, including the two random men, stay up to go to a secret bakery for fresh croissants.
When it was time for us to leave - me to meet my mom in Greece and my friends to travel back to Paris - I cried. My tear drops were the size of my thumb. This was a dream trip. The complete opposite of my high school one. This trip wasn’t rushed. There was no agenda. We just explored and strolled and lazed. We indulged in adventure. My friend was the perfect person to travel with because she honored my cravings. And when either of us wanted our a solo meal, we ate it.
From Florence, I flew to Athens - a city for which I truly have nothing good to say. My mom and I then went to Santorini where we lounged on beaches and ordered cocktails from cabana boys. We ate Greek salads and gazed at the sharp landscape of the island made from volcanic ash. Most importantly, we relaxed. We didn’t sight see, we just chatted. It was the perfect ending to a perfect journey.
This trip was a 10 course meal at a Michelin star restaurant and I devoured it.
My last trip abroad was with my sister to Iceland. It started with the bumpiest flight ever flown and ended with a snowstorm. Visiting Iceland in January was a bold decision. Yes, we saw the Northern Lights, but the sun was only up from 12 PM to 4 PM. We shivered as we explored Reykjavik and never adjusted to the lack of vitamin D.
I left this trip feeling hungry.
I haven’t been abroad since that trip to Iceland in early 2019.
My explorations around New York City were delightful. I visited new corners of the city. I moved to a new borough and felt right at home. New friends opened up even more of the city that was waiting for me. My trips around America were sweet, too. I traveled to Seattle with family and Colorado with old friends. I escaped the city with fellow New Yorkers to relax in the Catskills.
I tried my best to sustain my travel cravings, but after two plus years of relying on my international city and some trips within the US, I’m starving! And I’m so grateful to write that I’m leaving this country.
While you’re reading this, I’ll be exploring Croatia with my lovely friends Emily and Alex. I’m absolutely giddy about getting on a plane and experiencing somewhere brand new.
I know that even though I’ll come home refreshed and full, there’s still room on my plate for another trip. Because I’ve got the whole world to eat up.
Wow girl that’s ten lifetimes of international travel. Never stop
You've always got a place to stay in London - can't believe it's been so long since you last visited!