When Two Adventurers Come Together...

When two adventurers come together, there aren't many things that can hold them back. They become explorers, risk takers, and pioneers. They become discoverers, builders, connectors, and wanderers. The world is at their fingertips, and together they are an unstoppable force. 

                                                           So it is with Madeleine and Sarah. 

I can still remember so clearly back to that cold winter morning in Rome when I sat by myself on a hard church pew surrounded by a body of believers, yet feeling so completely alone. (Read the blog about it here). And yet even with an eagerness in me to meet people and make new friends, it took every ounce of courage inside me to approach that group of young people standing in a circle after the service and try to somehow introduce myself and integrate into their conversation in the most natural way possible. The awkward edge of that moment still makes me uncomfortable to think about. 

But there in that group of young people was a girl I never had a clue would end up being a lifelong friend, a partner in endless wild adventures, and a support to stand beside me in all my ups and downs of life over the next few years. 

Madeleine Wilgus. 

She was edgy. She was risky. She was completely spontaneous and independent. 

And our worlds collided that day, introducing me to a zeal and passion for life that only needed a little prodding and inspiration to be released. 

In the course of our friendship over the past two years, we have only seen each other face to face a handful of times. The rest of our relationship has grown thanks to the convenience of modern technology, but that still means that when we do get to see each other, it's a very special time. 

One might have picked up on this if he had observed the cinematic reunion of two friends torn apart for over a year when I exited my bus in the bus station of Portland, Maine. Our dramatic greeting with a running start and a lengthy embrace accompanied by squeals and tears was nothing short of theatrical, and already Madeleine's passionate zest for life was flying off from her in contagious sparks. 

And that was just the beginning :)

Each day of our week together ended with new stories to laugh about, new moments to remember forever, and new memories to tease each other about and new experiences to gawk at. There's probably enough to fill a whole book, but this is just a blog, so I'll just tell you the best :)

Day one began with homemade blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, a wonder I had heard about but never actually tried myself. It was everything I've ever been told it is. The afternoon found us taking a long walk along the sunny beach, several miles from our car. When we finally arrived at the halfway point where we were ready to turn around and head back, hunger and fatigue (must've been from the exhausting sun) overtook us and we concluded we would have to find an alternative way back. Our solution? Ask one of the cute ranger boys working the beach grounds to give us a ride in their golf carts. Rather than responding with the no we expected, they informed us they would be returning shortly and then came back a few minutes later with their nicest truck and a pre-prepared piece of paper with their name and phone number written neatly on it, which they made sure to suavely leave with us when they dropped us off at our car.

Day number two brought us to the quaint coastal town of Booth Bay where we spent our time wandering around the shops and restaurants, and basking in the sun on one of the docks out by the harbor. While I was off taking photos, Madeleine encountered a woman she knew, the mom of one of her friends from high school, who was loading up a little motor boat to take for a spin in the harbor. All smiles on her face, she joyfully offered to take us out on the boat and have us come visit her love nest cottage on a tiny island right in the harbor where she's staying for the summer months. It didn't take long for us to accept her offer. We spun around in the motor boat, just a short way across the water to approach a unique round house that Madeleine had always seen as a kid and dreamed about living in. Thanks to the wonderful hospitality of Madeleine's friend, we spent a few relaxing moments enjoying a tour of the beachy and bright house with the cool ocean breeze blowing on our faces as we sat on the sunny balcony overlooking the sparkling waters. Madeleine and I spent the rest of our afternoon in a lengthy and uplifting conversation over our fish and chip lunch, and then concluded our day with our Bibles and a glass of wine at dusk out on the dock by the lake behind her house. 

dominating gelaterias.

Day three's adventures got a late start but with no regrets about the relaxing and slow morning we enjoyed. By late afternoon, we had meandered through several coastal towns on our way to the city of Portland, where we set out to explore the Old Port section of town, specifically on a hunt for an Italian grocery store or gelato. After being temporarily sidetracked by a happy hour special, we stormed the streets boldly (and loudly) crying out in grammatically incorrect Italian any thought that came to our minds, particularly and frequently referring to our insatiable desire for good Italian food and/or gelato. We found the gelato and some pizza, and convinced several innocent passersby that we were actually from Italy. I'm certain  it was because our loud use of Italian words and gestures was so convincing and that it had nothing to do with Madeleine telling everyone we are from Italy. She sometimes forgets that our meeting in Italy doesn't quite constitute true ethnic connections. To conclude our evening, we met for birthday celebrations for Madeleine's older sister and experienced the wild nightlife of Portland on a Wednesday night (along with the three other people who had decided to go out that night).

The Portland Lighthouse

somewhere in the middle of yelling out random Italian phrases on the street

Celebrating with Madeleine's sister, Geneva, for her birthday

Day four's plan for an early morning departure didn't exactly pan out as expected when the early alarms went off and Sarah and Madeleine's hands hit the snooze. Finally on the road by eleven, we began our three hour drive to the tourist famous city of Bar Harbor. Not one hour of the road trip went by without our little Corolla's speakers blaring our favorite Eurotechno dance tunes - windows down, sunglasses on, and dance party happening with every pounding beat of the bass drum and scratch of the dj's tracks. As soon as we arrived in the breezy beach town of Bar Harbor, we went straight away to the bike rental and set off on an adventure through Acadia national park. After a few hours zooming around below the tall pines trees and gazing out at beaver dams and a glistening lake, the heat of the sun started to beat down on our backs. Eventually the bike path led us to a bridge, where we pauses for a moment to take in the view. I reached into my purse to grab my camera for the photo op, and before I knew it, Madeleine had disappeared down a tiny path that led down to the creek flowing beneath the bridge. I delicately made my way down the rocky trail in my sparkly silver sandals and called out after Madeleine with no response. I followed the trail deeper and deeper into the brush (all the while trying not to break my shoes), and all the nearer to the trickling water I heard, not knowing what to expect when I found my friend. Naturally, once I cleared past all the brush, I looked around and spotted Madeleine's bright blue shirt dangerously close to the waters that she was giddily splashing around in up to her thighs. "Let's go swimming Sarah! Come on!" she enthusiastically yelled out to me. I reminded her that we didn't have our swimsuits (or maybe that was just my excuse for not wanting to swim in questionable waters) but she even more excitedly suggested we just go skinny dipping. I'm pretty sure she was serious. Another gentle reminder that we had an audience on the bridge above us seemed enough to stamp out that idea, but not enough for me to completely stand up against her continual pleas that I join her in the refreshing (and dirty) water. 

And there we were, splashing around, hopping on the rocks, forging through bubbling waterfalls.

 Adventuring, exploring, living...

The night ended perfectly when I finally got to eat my Maine meal - a lobster roll with chips, blueberry ale, and mouth watering blueberry pie a la mode for dessert. Every bite was succulent. 

Day five was the last and greatest adventure, the biggest and grandest so far for the week. But you'll have to read the next blog to hear about that one :)  

The Irresistable Magic

The first time I went to Rome I fell in love. Italy was a dream. Before I had even left the U.S., my mind was filled with romantic ideas of the quaint streets, corner cafes, and scrumptious cuisine that Italy is so renowned for. When I finally arrived, what I encountered was even better than any of the enchantment that I could have imagined. Immediately I was hooked. 

From that trip, I knew I was in love with Italy, and my desire to return and spend a generous amount of time in the beautiful country only grew stronger with time. Eventually I made my way back to work as an au pair for a family in a little town called Foligno in the green rolling hill country of Umbria. Enjoying my days in the quiet ambiance of an authentic Italian town, I only ventured into the city out of necessity for practicalities that I couldn't otherwise find in Foligno. There, my opinion of Rome shifted. 

Instead of seeing the beautiful, romantic city that I had experienced once before, I instead found myself in a loud, chaotic mess... horns honking, people shouting, cars zooming past, tourists running people over, street vendors bombarding everyone in sight... and I was overwhelmed. Somehow, the city had lost its charm, and I longer felt the romantic pull that had once so powerfully drawn me in. Returning back to the quiet and calm streets of Foligno was always a breath of fresh air, and I could never wait to return home after visiting Rome and escape from the buzz of the city.

After what felt like too many visits to the busy and bustling ancient city, I alternated my weekend plans and began traveling to a different type of city: the cultural Renaissance hub, Florence. While still a popular tourist destination and bustling with people, Florence proved itself to be a much more tranquil city, and its small size was much less daunting. Its beauty overtook me, and once again the magic that I had once discovered in Rome began to resurface. This time, however, I found myself falling in love with the peaceful and serene Tuscan city.

That was all it took for me to leave my life in the U.S. behind and end up back in the city that had lured me in. But this story isn't about that city. It's about the first one. The one that I can't seem to make up my mind about. The more-than-2000-year-old-city that many find to be one of the best and most beautiful cities in the world. The city that defines Italy. The city that the world dreams about. 

Rome.

Magical. Chaotic. Romantic. Disorganized. Enchanting. Inefficient. 

Maybe it's mystifying fusion of these incongruous characteristics blended into a mellifluous harmony of beauty and charm that produces the magic and magnetism of the world's beloved ancient city. 

Whatever it may be, once you hear the tune of this harmony played sweetly in your ear, you will never forget it and will likely search for it again for the rest of your days. 

Rome.

Ancient walls. Street musicians. Pasta to die for. Hidden piazzas. Artisan markets. Shopper's heaven. Buzzing motorinos. Religion. Statues. Paintings. Fountains. Gardens. Wine.

Hate it. Love it. But you will never forget it. And you will never again find anything like it. 

There's an old tradition that says if you toss a coin backwards into the Trevi Fountain, it will ensure a trip back to Rome someday. 

Everyone I know who has ever thrown a coin in... sure enough... they've been back.

Maybe it's the coin.

Maybe it's coincidence. 

Or maybe it's the irresistible magic.

Midnight Marvels

 I started my Italian visit in the city of Rome to spend a few days visiting some of my friends there. If you have read any of my past blogs about Rome, you are certainly aware that it’s not exactly my favorite city in Italy. After only a few minutes there, I’m already overwhelmed by traffic, congestion, and tourists everywhere. However, a few adventures on my trip this time around may just have redeemed a small bit of my slight hostility towards the city.

The first thing I learned is that Rome is an entirely different city at night. When it's dark and everyone is safely tucked away inside their homes, there are no tourists walking out in the town, no cars driving all over the streets, no mopeds zipping past, and definitely no African men yelling at you trying to sell something. It's quiet, and all the city's ancient beauty that is drowned out by the congestion and noise of the daytime comes alive and shines in the magic of the moonlight.

I got to experience Rome in this magical way, sitting atop a balcony overlooking a classical piano concert below that was being held in the shadow of a 2000-year-old building. This building, the Teatro di Marcello, had once served as an amphitheater during the time of Emperor Augustus and was now, once again, providing a majestic stage for the resplendent notes coming from one single woman on a grand piano.

The concert was short, only an hour, but the enchantment of the night was only just beginning to unfold. As the evening wore on and darkness enveloped the majestic remains of the ancient world, a thunderstorm began to brew above. For a first row seat, I accompanied a friend of mine on a midnight moped ride through the prohibited gardens of the Villa Borghese to sit, perched on a ledge, overlooking the twinkling Piazza del Popolo below. Clouds enshrouded the moon, leaving the city lights below to illuminate the night sky in between flashes of colossal lightening. Thunder boomed above our heads and the cool of the night filled the air. Everything was still, except the violent call of nature expressing itself in grandeur all around us. 

Without the cars, without the people, without the noise, the ancient splendor of the eternal city gleamed brightly in the magnificence of the brewing storm.

But of course, with any thunderstorm, rain is sure to come at some point. Unfortunately, this thought had escaped our minds in the midst of the city’s beauty until it was already too late. The drops started to slowly fall. And so began the adventure.

Before I knew it, the empty streets of Rome were suddenly filled – with rain drops, water, and puddles, showering down upon us as we cautiously and quickly steered the moped through the rivers that were forming on the cobblestone streets. All hope was lost for staying dry. The downpour engulfed us, with nothing but the helmets on our heads as protection from the wet.

At that moment, the compartment on the back of the moped (that happened to be holding my purse and, consequently, camera) flew off the back and landed with a thud in the middle of the wet road. I watched from the back of the moped as the compartment popped open and my purse rolled out onto the ground, growing ever smaller as the distance between us and it continued to increase while we hurriedly tried to slow down.

A man was standing on the road nearby where it fell, and looked at us incredulously as we rode back, picked up our things from the middle of the road, and assessed the damage. He yelled something in Italian and while I have no idea what, I had no problem interpreting his astonishment at our helpless and slightly ludicrous situation.

All I could do was laugh.  My camera was a little banged up, but it survived and was fine. Ultimately I just found myself laughing at the situation and thinking, “What in the world were we thinking taking a moped ride in the pouring rain in the middle of the night in Rome?” But oh the adventures you find when you’re willing to do something crazy!

The rain continued to pour down on us the rest of our journey towards shelter, but I didn’t mind at all. We whizzed through the streets as the Colosseum, ancient walls, and ruins loomed prominently in the night sky, amidst torrents of water. It may have been the most beautiful Rome has ever looked.

By the time I got home, I was soaked from head to toe. And I absolutely loved it. :)

Rome #3

After my last blog, you may think I hate Rome. I don’t. I quite enjoy it actually; I’m just glad that I get to go visit it for a few days at a time and don’t have to live there. But when I am there I have a great time!

This weekend I went down on Saturday again to meet up with Madeleine. The only thing we had planned was shopping :) We met up in Termini Station around 1 (you can conclude from my last blog that I was not in the greatest mood when I arrived) and then decided to go back to her house to drop my stuff off. Madeleine has been in Rome since the summer working as an au pair but recently started working for a new family with five boys, ranging from age 2 to 18. When we got there, Mattia, the 16 year old, was cooking pasta on the stove while he was on the phone with his girlfriend. Madeleine and I chuckled at the thought of a very inexperienced sixteen year old attempting to cook pasta for the first time and then debated whether or not to eat at home or to go out. Mattia finished his pasta, put it on a plate, and Madeleine tried a bite. She almost spit it out. Apparently his girlfriend had instructed him to put a handful of salt in the boiling water. This measuring method may work if you are a girl with a very small hand, but for a growing teenage boy, a handful of salt is quite an excessive amount. Luckily, Nonna came rushing in to the rescue, dumped his pasta in the garbage, and immediately started a new pot on the stove. She told us she was making spaghetti for everyone. We stayed for lunch.

Over lunch, Alberto the 18 year old came home, so the four of us sat down to a wonderful homecooked meal of spaghetti, beef, greens, and fresh fruit from their garden. The rest of the family was out of town at their house in the mountains for the weekend, so Alberto informed us that he might be having a few friends over that night. His explanation of this get together was pretty vague, leaving us wondering what to expect when we got home that night. After lunch, Madeleine and I geared up for a trip to the Porta di Roma, one of the biggest malls in Rome (or Europe... not sure which). We weren't exactly sure how to get there, but hopped on what we thought was the right bus and figured that we would know when we got to the correct stop because it would be around an hour later and everyone else would probably get off too. Thank goodness we were right, and at the second to last stop of the bus' route, the whole bus emptied out and all the passengers headed into the mall.

OH my goodness.... I cannot begin to tell you how amazing it was to be in a mall!! I walked in and felt right at home again! Everything was sparkling, shiny, and calling my name. I have been on a hunt since I've been in Italy for stores that sell affordable clothes that people my age would wear. I haven't been real successful, but going to this mall certainly ended that streak! I found dozens of stores, just like American Eagle, Gap, Forever 21, Heritage, Hollister, J. Crew, and any other place with cute clothes that I might actually shop at. This was a fantastic thing, but also a very bad thing. I was supposed to be Christmas shopping for others, but you can't get much of that done when you're burning a hole in your own pocket ;) Needless to say, I walked away with just a few bags and the conclusion that shopping is a great way to build arm muscle. By the end of our trip, we were exhausted, beat, and totally ready for a relaxing evening at home.

Just a few bags to complete our shopping trip! ;-)

Before we even walked in the door of the house, we saw the cars out front. There were several unfamiliar cars that didn't belong to the family, so we knew that Alberto did indeed have "a few" friends over. We walked inside to find at least twenty high schoolers, booming music, and quite a spirited atmosphere. Madeleine and I retreated to her room and tried to come up with Plan B - because clearly our original plan of making pancakes and watching a Christmas movie was not going to work with dozens of people in the kitchen and music blasting through the walls. We knew we couldn't beat it - so we joined it.

It turned out to be a ton of fun, and we had a really great time. Finding English speakers in Rome is much different than finding them in a small town like Foligno, so we had no problem communicating with most of the people there. After meeting several of the high school students and hearing about their current preparations for college and studying abroad, Madeleine and I ended up outside with a group of Alberto's friends around us, asking us questions and making jokes about America and English. We spent the rest of the night making fun of ourselves and laughing at all the differences between Americans and Italians. We listened to music, heard the Italians sing every single word of all the American pop songs, and finally concluded the night with an Italian version of karaoke. Like I said... it was a blast. And there was no chance Madeleine and I were going to completely forgo out pancake craving. I don't know if I've mentioned or not, but it is impossible to find pancakes or even pancake mix in Italy. We basically possessed Gold in the eyes of the Italians because Madeleine's sister had sent her a Christmas package with Great Value Pancake Mix in it. Since the kitchen seemed to be the popular hang out spot for all the guests, Madeleine and I almost gave up our quest for cooking our favorite American breakfast, knowing that we'd have dozens of hungry and curious Italians to ward off. But you can't stare at a picture this amazing and just forget about it.

Needless to say, we followed our ravenous stomachs and somewhat crashed the kitchen party with a frying pan, a whisk, and a plate waiting for hot, freshly made pancakes. It turned out that our bag only made about 8 or 10 pancakes, so we had no problem hiding the evidence from the rest of the guests in the kitchen. As soon as a pancake came off the pan, it was quickly buttered and topped with Cinnamon Sugar (you weren't expecting a country with no pancake mix to have syrup were you??) and went straight into one of our mouths. By the time anyone noticed what we were doing and came to beg for some, they were already gone :)

Madeleine and I had promised ourselves that we would take pictures of our delicious American meal, but in light of the perilous situation our pancakes were in, the only memory we have is the savory taste of buttery, fluffy goodness melting in our mouths.

The next morning was painful. No one wants to get out of bed after only three hours of sleeping, especially when it's freezing outside. We had made plans to meet Jess and another friend for coffee before church, but when the alarm sounded at 8:00, we grunted, laughed at our misery, and rolled back over to go back to sleep. But as much as I wanted to sleep for the rest of the day, I knew I needed to get up and make the most of my time in Rome, especially since I don't get very many chances to go to church in the first place. I fought against my mind and my body, reminding myself of all the hundreds of times I've had to get up after three hours of sleep for Glowing Heart and somehow miraculously made it through all those days, and I got myself up, ready, and to the church - only 15 minutes late ;-)

I'm glad I went. I have to admit - I don't remember a whole lot that the pastor talked about (most of my concentration was going towards thinking how horrible I felt after sleeping so little), but I ended up meeting some really great people as soon as the service was over. I love the community of Rome Baptist Church. It's such a wide variety of people from all over the world, and I think it's great to be able to worship, still in my own language, with such a diverse crowd. Jess, my friend from Australia, introduced me to another guy from the"Land Down Under" after church. I asked how they knew each other and was informed that David had met our friends from Iowa while in Spain over Thanksgiving and was traveling on his own for a few months, so he made his way up to Rome for a visit. There he met Jess and was invited to come to Rome Baptist by her and the Iowa girls. It was his first time to church. We made plans to go to lunch with him, along with another friend named John who grew up in the Ivory Coast and is now a University student in Rome, and set out to find the perfect Sunday afternoon restaurant.

As we walked, it started raining and we knew we couldn't wander for forever. We walked around in circles for about 30 minutes before finally deciding on a cute restaurant that Jess had been to before. I ordered spinach ravioli and we all shared our food and tried each other's... just the way I like to eat! Madeleine joined us eventually (feeling much more rested than I did) and we set out to enjoy the rest of the rainy afternoon in Rome.

 

 

I forgot to mention - the main reason I went to Rome this weekend was to see the new Narnia movie, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. If I was ever excited about Harry Potter, I was ten times more excited about the Dawn Treader. Apparently it's not quite as popular as HP (this is news to me) and people don't really understand my obsession, so let me take a minute to explain. A lot of people grew up reading the Chronicles of Narnia and were familiar with the tales of Aslan and the Pevensies, but not me. I was not introduced to C.S. Lewis' collection until my sophomore year of college when a friend started reading through the series and encouraged me to do the same. I know the books are written for children, but they are so much deeper than that. C.S. Lewis has an incredible way of taking the hopeful and loving story of Christ and illustrating it in a beautiful, creative, and inspiring story of Aslan the Lion and his mighty and powerful reign over the land of Narnia. Perfectly knitted into Lewis' creative stories are precious lessons and pieces of wisdom that can apply to people of all ages, not just children. It is these lessons and these reminders of truth that have greatly impacted my life and shaped who I have come to be, which is why these books, particularly the Dawn Treader are so significant to me. The stories give me hope when things in my life seem a little too dark. The help me remember what I'm living for, what to fight for, and who I can be.

Sadly enough, even though my heart was yearning to see the cinematic approach to this inspiring story, I guess it's not popular enough to play in English in movie theaters, so I came and went without ever seeing it.

My first trip to the movie theaters when I'm back in the U.S. is going to be a special one. :)

We unsuccessfully searched for a theater that afternoon until we ran out of time and Madeleine and I had to hurry off so I could catch my train. After a very long two hour journey on the train, I arrived in Foligno and Aurelio picked me up from the station so I wouldn't have to walk home in the rain. It was good to be home, but I certainly had a great weekend.

The City

Rome completely exhausts me. Every time I take a trip there, I come back tired beyond belief and feeling like I just battled the world. I finally concluded that it’s Public Transportation. I hate it. There’s nothing more stressful than cramming into a space of four square feet with people touching you on every side, breathing their unbrushed teeth and cappucino breath on you, speaking way too loudly right in your ear, and uncomfortably staring at you, a stranger that they are now a little too familiar with. And on top of that, just wait until that group of twenty sixteen year olds decides to get on your means of transportation and completely change the entire atmosphere of your ride. If it was quiet before – and I say if, as it’s something very unlikely thanks to accordion-playing gypsies that try to take advantage of everyone’s inability to run away from them and deaf grandmas that think the person on the phone with them can’t hear anything they are saying) – if it ever was quiet, prepare yourself to be completely swallowed by obnoxious screams, ridiculous squeals, and irritating incessant laughter of immature teenagers. And there is no escape. Don't even think about trying to get away from these people. You won't even be able to find a seat to sit down in to give yourself some breathing room. And if you do find an open place to sit, it's guaranteed that there will be some sort of mysterious brown sticky substance or clear liquid already occupying your desired seat. So, if you are willing and brave enough to bear all of that madness and face the insanity of Public Transportation, you might be able to arrive at your desired destination in Rome. But you can't even count on that. If you want to take a bus, it might come in fifteen minutes, it might come in thirty, or it might not ever come at all. And by the time you realize you can no longer take the bus that will never come and instead have to walk to the metro, stand in line to buy a ticket, weave through the thousands of other people also trying to get on a metro, and walk up and down a million stairs, you will never make it to your destination on time. Especially if it's a train... which you can never count on either. It might leave exactly at the time it's supposed to (which is most likely to happen if you are running late) or it could leave ten, fifteen, twenty minutes late (guaranteed to happen if you are in a hurry). Then sometimes you fly right through all the stops - doors open, people off, people on, doors closed - and sometimes you just stop. In the middle of the tracks. Waiting....waiting...and all the while the whole train is quiet, save for that one person that is shouting to their friend on the other end of their cell phone... the entire ride.

So this is where I find myself when I travel through Roma Termini Station... only I get to get off my train and instead of finding a nice quiet place to rest, I am immediately faced with throngs of people - travelers from all over the world, business people, homeless people, and really shady people that will steal your wallet or your purse or your suitcase in a heartbeat. Ok then, so run through the station, spend as little time there as possible, head outside, breathe some fresh air. Or... run outside to have a huge city bus fly past you, three cars honk at you as you cross a street, dozens of vendors trying to get you to buy their amazing (amazingly cheap) product, and noise, NOISE, Noise. Everywhere!

There is no better feeling than arriving back in Foligno, walking through the quiet town, coming in the door of our apartment, and realizing that I am home. I can breathe. I can rest. I can relax, and it's calm. I love the stillness, the mountains, the small town, the simplicity. I love coming back to my family here and joining them at the dinner table and sharing all of my crazy adventures with them. And I absolutely love curling up in my warm, comfortable bed - lamp lit, blankets piled on - and just sitting.

My friends in Rome have quite a different experience than me. They get to go out every day. They see the city life, the people, the famous historical sites, the art. They have an endless number of people to meet and become friends with, they can go to the movies anytime they want, take a language course if they desire, walk past ancient buildings on a daily basis, travel anywhere they want conveniently and easily, shop every day, and experience true city life. But while many of these things are appealing to me and seem fun, I can't help but be a little proud of the experience I get to have. I may not have tons of Americans or other au pairs around me, but I get the opportunity to become friends with actual Italian people. And people here may not know very much English, but what a great chance for me to practice and learn a little Italian! Foligno is not The City; it's not big and bustling, but there is life, there is community, and there is so much beauty. People from Rome travel to Umbria on field trips and day excursions to see the things that I get to see every day. I live fifteen minutes away from the very well-known city of Assisi and only minutes from spectacular mountains, wineries, olive mills, and medieval hilltop towns.

Foligno is beautiful.

And I live here :)

I'm so thankful for the plan that God had for me all along. I may be missing out on a few things in Rome or if I were to be an au pair in another city, but God has given me abundant blessings to enjoy right where I'm at. I have such a unique opportunity, in such a unique place, and I know that it's exactly where God wants me to be. I may not understand the significance of all of it right now, but I'm sure in time I will see why He so clearly opened all of the doors for me to be right here, right now, right where He has taken me.