It has now been over a month since Dan and I took our two-and-a-half-day trip to Tenerife, one of Spain’s Canary Islands. This post has been dormant, half-finished, for nearly as long; spring break and assignments, sadly, pushed it to the back burner. In light of my recent trip to Barcelona, I realized that I couldn’t write a blog post about one Spanish city without the context of the other. Plus, I’ve been working on this one long enough….
It's Friday, April 14, and I’m writing this post from Milano Porta Garibaldi, one of Milan’s train stations, while waiting for my 23:17 train to Rome. I’m sipping lukewarm Pepsi from the station’s supermarket because (surprise, surprise) all the coffee shops are closed at 9 o’clock at night—even in Italy. I've spent 1.10 Euros to use public bathrooms today. (Now, it's late on Saturday night and I'm publishing this post from Rome. Lack of internet has delayed this posting so it's happening now. Treat the narrative as if you're reading on Friday. 😉 )
Paris has officially ruined Europe for me. It took every romantic notion I had dreamt up and confirmed it with absolute, relentless perfection. It’s times like these when I curse my poetic ineptitude; I wish I could accurately express how deeply in love I have fallen with Paris in the words it deserves. But alas, we’ll have to settle for this choppy love letter.