Some say that travelers are running away from real life, that there is something wrong with being in love with living somewhere else.

I would argue that there are places that fit better than others–places that evoke emotions and ways of being.

Just like certain people draw out different sides of us, I believe that places do the same thing.

I’ve lived many different places, and each had a different feeling.

We just moved from San Francisco to Miami 3 months ago, and I have to say. There’s something in the Miami air that makes me feel more confident and authentic.

Not that Miami will be my home forever. Other European cities and countries have already captured my heart and spirit. Italy in particular makes me feel like the version of myself I love the most.

                      In Italy, I am extra outgoing. For the pure joy of speaking Italian, I will talk to old men, children, dogs, people collecting signatures…pretty much anyone that is willing to talk to me about anything! I am fashionable and chic. I always wear heels and great Italian outfits. Red lipstick–of course! And I am very confidence and bold. I don’t know what it is about Italy that makes me feel extra confident and comfortable with who I am. I march right into places and ask to speak to their manager about collaborating. I try new things. I ask questions. I go for what I want without a moment’s hesitation.

I’d love to hear from you: What city or country makes you feel like your favorite version of yourself? 

The desert is a funny place. The extremes that exist side by side.

I wasn’t sure what this cross country road trip would be like. We’ve driven cross country once before (North Carolina to San Francisco) in my car. The first road trip was fast driving, visiting friends and exploring on a whim.

This a different sort of trip. We literally packed up our entire life and are carrying it across deserts and hundreds of miles like a turtle with its shell.

Driving cross country with a moving truck much slower. It’s more like a meditation, helping me to slow down and collect my thoughts.

I’m seeing things more deeply. It’s more about the journey, the drive, the process than anything.

Plus, it’s kinda hard to stop and see a lot of things anyways. Maneuvering a 16ft truck with a car behind (that you can’t back up) is like playing the snake game. You always have to think about where you tail is! 

Today we are driving through Arizona. It’s a beautiful mixture of unique rock formations, cactuses and huge open spaces.

We stop for Cracker Barrel & some pictures with cactuses! Then we are back on the road, heading towards Las Cruces, New Mexico.

It’s taking much longer than we estimated to get to our destination because we can’t drive faster than 55mph.

The desert is quiet and freezing cold. The stars are a bright tapestry, and the moon is HUGE. I smile as I finish off the fried apples from Cracker Barrel.

Life is good.

—

Have you ever driven across the US? I’d love to hear about your experience! 

We start our drive from San Francisco early. There’s a nervous excitement when starting something new. Somehow I am able to wake up at 5am after packing and cleaning all yesterday. That is a major accomplishment for me. Anyone who knows me can assure you that I’m not a morning person. We’re driving a 16ft moving truck and pulling my car on a dolly behind. We pull out slowly and the first hour or so and we are wide-eyed and hyper focused on everything going on around. With time, we start to relax.

It’s miles and miles of rolling bright green hills and blue skies in Northern California that give way to orchards and then vineyards and then desert until we start coming up on Los Angeles. You always know when you are getting close to LA because the traffic gets thicker and thicker until everything slows to a stop.

It’s the first time I’ve enjoyed traffic. Since we are towing a car, we can only go 55 miles per hour, so after hours and hours of every car and truck passing us, I was nice to be going the same speed as everyone else. Haha

We finally roll into Blythe, a small town on the border between California and Arizona at midnight. We reserved a hotel through Hotwire, which usually works out beautifully. Tonight is not our night. Our reservation had gone through and Hotwire had charged our debit card, but when we arrive at the hotel, Joshua at the front desk said the card was declined. Two hours and a crazy loop of phone calls later, we find out that it was Hotwire’s card that was declined and we got refunded. We finally crawl into bed at 2am, and sleep has never sounded so good.

Thought for the day: It’s the challenges and funny stories that really make a trip memorable.

Stay tuned for more adventures. Follow us on Periscope to see our live videos –> @canaldafavela

In my books, it’s a crime not to visit Lake Como if I’m anywhere near Milano. 

Not that Milano isn’t wonderful…(more of that later), but Varenna is a peaceful haven, a sleeping princess.

Every time I visit Varenna, I leave feeling inspired and incredibly relaxed. There’s just something about it…

Today is cloudy, but very peaceful and fresh. It gives Varenna a mysterious and magical feeling.

From the train station, I walk along the water to get to the town center. I love walking along the narrow winding cobblestone pathways.

The sun finally starts to peak its head out shyly, and the lake is shimmering.

I walk over to Bar Il Molo, pick at a little table outside and order a big glass of wine. During aperitivo, my wine comes with peanuts, olives, and (of course) a breathtaking view of the lake. Varenna is a silver shimmering goddess. There’s a hushed sense of awe. Almost feels like I should whisper.

Just now, the bells begin to chime and the sleepy town feels enchanted. Lake Como has a quiet grandeur that wins you over. The calmness just washes over you.

I’m supposed to get on the next train back to Milano, but I don’t want to leave. “I’ll catch the next train” I think to myself. It’s hard to think of going anywhere else when the view is this beautiful!

My Videos of Varenna

Tips for Visiting Varenna:

Getting There

-Varenna is a 1hr train ride from Milano. Trains leave once an hour. You can buy tickets at the train station, but not online since it’s a regional train.

-Once you get to ‘Varenna-Esine’ train stop, it’s just a 15 minute walk to the center of town. You can take a taxi, but the walk is alongside the lake and is very manageable. It’s the perfect introduction the Lake Como.

– Even if you only have one day or a couple of hours to spend in Varenna, it’s completely worth it!

My Favorite Hotel – Villa Cipressi

The garden at Villa Cipressi is romantic and divine–complete with fountain, beautiful gardens and luxurious rooms.

My Favorite Restaurant – Ristorante La Vista

With a gorgeous view overlooking the lake, Ristorante La Vista is truly magical. The downside is that you’ll pretty much only hear English at dinner, but with a view this beautiful…you can understand why.

Looking for more tips on Italy? Come check out my Italian website: Italianissimo

San Francisco, CALIFORNIA–

When I’m not traveling, I get major travel withdrawals. I feel grumpy, discouraged, and majorly stuck in a rut when I do the same thing every day.

I recently bought these cool adventure prompters called “Anywhere Travel Guide” to help me try new things and hopefully keep my travel bug satisfied until my next trip.

I need a good reminder to keep exploring no matter where I am because let’s face it…there are amazing new things to see and try no matter where you are or how long you’ve lived there.

If you’re feeling in a rut…do these with me and  leave me a comment about your own adventure!

Round-About Card: Choose the longest way today, the most inconvenient, difficult, and unnecessary. Notice the route and the obstacles.

After a long day of work, I’ve accepted the challenge of going to watch my Brazilian husband play soccer. When it comes to Brazilians, soccer is a serious thing. I want to be there to cheer him on, but the field he’s playing at is 30-45 minutes away by bus.

I don’t have much time to get there so I walk a fast 15 minutes to the bus stop. Time is ticking, and I’m worried about making it in time to see even part of the game.

The bus comes…and rages past when I realize I’m on the wrong side of the street. Damn it. 12 minutes til the next one, I think to myself.

Loaded down with a bag on each shoulder, I’m checking the route on my phone when it runs out of battery.

Just then, the bus pulls up and a huge group of us pile on. I think it’s the right bus, but I have no idea where to get off.

As the bus bumps along, I’m balancing my bags and wondering how in the world I’m going to find this soccer field.

It’s back to intuition.

A seat opens up and I plop down next to a friendly looking older man. I explain my situation, as well as the ridiculous fact that I cannot actually remember the name of the neighborhood I’m going to.

He says that his phone died as well. So we are verbally going through the neighborhoods in San Francisco out loud while drawing a map in the air.

“So, you think the neighborhood is south of the Mission…”

“Yes, but a little more to the right. Like over here, if you know what I mean…”

He says a neighborhood I think I remember reading on my GPS, and I feel a little better.

He still thinks I should get off at the next stop and recharge my phone at the McDonalds, but I’m don’t have time. Either I go straight there, or I’ll miss the soccer game entirely.

I’m going for it! The man wishes me luck and hops off. I continue onward.

More stops and lots more people. I’m searching my gut for what feels like the right spot to get off.

Finally, I feel like it can’t be any farther,  so I hop off and walk to the corner convenient store to ask. The man working there doesn’t know. He just started the job and is new to the area. I tinker around and find a chocolate bar while I wait for him to finish with the other  customers.

“Why don’t you look it up on your phone?” he asks with a confused look.

“My phone died,” I reply.

His eyes warm up, and he pulls out his phone to look for the soccer field.

Amazingly enough I did get off at the right stop, and the soccer field is just a few blocks away.

I start walking again with chocolate bar in hand. In circles, round and round, until I finally stumble upon the tiny turf field hidden in this industrial neighborhood just next to a demolition shop.

My husband’s teammates are packing up when I arrive.

I missed the entire game, but honestly I just felt proud that I made it there.

I’m a little nostalgic for traveling before smart phones. There’s something beautiful about having to figure it out the hard way.

It’s just you, your intuition and the people you meet on the way.

You might not get where you intended to go (at least on time), but it’s always an adventure!

How do you feel when you do things in the most difficult way? What obstacles did you experience on your adventure?

To sit on his back, I have to climb up a whole story to the second floor! Nothing could have prepared me for the pure exhilaration and awe of sitting atop an elephant. I put my foot on his back, and I’m surprised how dry and tough his skin is and he’s got these funny long hairs growing at random. Once on board, I feel as small as a pesky ant.

As Bobo starts to move, I realize how small I am, and how powerful and huge he is. Riding an elephant is like being on a see saw. From one leg to the other is a huge dip–as if he doesn’t even care to bend his knees at all. As he saunters through the jungle all I can see are green leafy trees while I listen to the trumpeting of his elephant friends in the distance. I feel so alive, aware and in the moment.

Back in the day, elephants were used for war. I’m imagining how long it would take to catch up with someone by elephant!

“Bobo is 30 years old,” our guide tells up from his perch atop the elephant’s head. That big head has so much storage space. Maybe that’s why elephants have such a good memory, I muse to myself. I wonder how Bobo sees the world and if he will remember us. 30-years-old seems pretty old to me, although I have no idea how long elephants live.

Step by step, back and forth til we get to the river. Bobo wades knee deep in the water and start shooting water at other elephants that have already found their way into the refreshing water. It’s a perfect moment and I cannot stop smiling.

These gentle giants with kankles and an affinity for miniature bananas have stolen my heart, but the baby elephant takes the cake. He’s big but small at the same time with a little trunk and small flapping ears. Now I just have to figure out how to take him home with me!

It’s morning in Venice. The sun is beautiful, the sea is sparkling and the tourists are starting to swarm.  I came to Venice on a whim last night, stayed in a youth hostel, and have been contentedly wandering the streets since 7am. By 9am the tourists are piling into the city from the cruise ships, engorging the streets and small bridges. I duck into a bar that’s just opening and order a cappuccino and brioche and shamelessly eavesdrop on the older Veneto shopkeeper and the Polish barista about my age gossiping quietly about some other regular customers and shop.

Ma Lei e’ veneziana? “Is she Venetian?”

No, non Lei  è Veneto ma non è veneziana. “No, She’s from Veneto, but she’s not Venetian.”

Apparently the regular customer they were speaking about was from the state of Veneto, but not from Venice itself. I asked the shopkeeper if she was Venetian , and she said no. She’s from a small town close to Venice, but she has lived and worked in Venice for the last 30 years. I’m always surprised at how attached Italians are to where they are from. It’s almost like their city runs in their veins. I would have just said I was from Venice!

She informs me that there is an accent that is just purely “Venetian.” My curiosity is burning. Who are these people  with the very exclusive and mysterious status of being Venetian?

I cross a few bridges to get to Piazza San Marco. This square is Venice’s living room. There’s space to walk, stroll, dance, laugh, drink and eat. There’s something about Venice that is so magical. It seems to exist in a world all to itself–separate from time and space.

I’ve always been enamored with Venice. It’s mysterious nature and the intertwining streets and canals just delight my inner explorer. These trip, after many visits to Venice, I am dying to know about the people who work in Venice. What their life is like? How do they view the “City of Love” that people come to visit from around the world? What is it really like to live and work in Venice?

Today, I’m hanging out near The Florian. It’s the epitome of elegance, with a fabulous live band always playing and drinks so expensive you’ll want to sit there for a hour or so to make it worth your time. It’s pure elegance and the view and atmosphere is hard to beat. This time, I’m just watching the ebb and flow of tourists that wander over, sit down, order something, pay and drift away. All the while, the waiters in their white attire are flinting back and forth between the cafe and the outdoor tables on the piazza tiptoeing around, taking orders, and delivering pricey treats to tables.

Are they Venetian? What do they think of tourists? What is their real life like?

After 20 minutes of hanging around, they notice me and we start to chat a bit when they aren’t too busy. One server has worked here for 25 years (although he doesn’t look like it), and the other just started here 3 years ago. It’s his birthday today, in fact. I feel a little bad that he’s working today. No customers that would know and congratulate him. I wonder what it’s like serving people you will never see again.

Before I go, I ask to take a picture with them. It’s hard to find someone to take the picture of us with the swarms of tourists in constant motion so I gesture for us to take the picture ourselves.

Facciamo un selfie? “Let’s take a selfie?”The older waiter suggests.

Si, è meglio.  “Yes, it’s better that way.”

After the photo he asks me a question that just made me chuckle,

“Avete la parola ‘selfie’ in inglese?” Do you have the word “selfie” in English?”

I was just tickled by the questions and said “si” politely but I wanted to burst out laughing.

It’s amazing how some words, symbols and icons travel around the world, integrating themselves naturally. They sneak into our lives without us even noticing it, uniting us with a common understanding while our individual languages, cultures and beliefs are still so foreign and mysterious to one another.

I’m still on a quest to discover the Venetians in Venice. I’ll keep you posted!

I’ve been thinking a lot about how travel opens our minds. I’ve always believed that travel was what made me bold and confident. I’m starting to realize why: it’s a catalyst that enabled me to open my mind and loosen the grip on my tightly held paradigms and perspectives. It has helped me to free myself to be other versions of myself that I didn’t know existed.

Travel is amazing, but don’t forget that the boldness and confidence you have found while traveling was inside of you all along, just waiting to be discovered.

This week I’m challenging myself (and you!) to be our bold, fun-loving, and spontaneous traveler selves no matter where we are! Happy Tuesday!

It’s so easy to get caught up, zone out, jump ahead to the future or stress out…but this moment will never return again.

In this moment, you can change, act differently, do that thing you’ve been putting off. You can smile.
These are the moments where you can choose to alter the course of your life…even just with a small change. There is the “you” from the past–from yesterday, last month, 2 years ago. But the you today is what you choose. I think we forget; we forgo our power to choose in this moment.

Why are we rushing so much? Life is now.

Life is a string of beautiful days, not just zoning out waiting for some day in the future. In Europe I find this to be so easy, but I have a hard time following this when I’m in the US. It’s hard to avoid the huge push to DO, DO, DO MORE!
I’m over it. I’m going back to the basics. To the moment. To what I know.

For me, the key–the secret–is to enjoy every moment as much as possible. To enjoy every day as much as possible. It’s a mindset, a way of living.

It’s the lifestyle of making life beautiful moment by moment that makes life amazing!!!

How to you slow down and get back to the present moment? 

I have an obsession with being a local. Wherever I travel, I want to blend in so well that I could be mistaken for a local. As you can imagine, that works well in some countries, and not at all in others! When I’m in Italy, it’s a little easier since I speak Italian and I lived there for a year and a half. I get a deep sense of gratification when others mistake me for an Italian (or a Brazilian when I’m living in Brazil) but there’s always a level of frustration.

I feel a little cramped. A little less free because I’m always wondering what others are thinking. If I “make the cut” or I’m just another lousy tourist.

Traveling in Italy for 3 weeks last month changed my perspective. I stayed in my adopted hometown of Firenze (Florence) for one week. I stayed in the apartment I used to live in when I studied and worked in Florence a few years ago. I did my “local thing.” Went grocery shopping. Visited my friends’ houses. Went to my favorite restaurants and coffee spots. This trip, I also had to do a few touristy things to take pictures for my travel company. I visited hotels and talk to them about what they offer for their clientele : tourists.

Some of these hotels had gorgeous views of the Duomo (famous church), adorable rooms, and lots of support and resources on how to enjoy the city.

I realized that there IS something wonderful about being a tourist. Tourists are here to enjoy the BEST that the city has to offer. They see the most beautiful sights and enjoy the uniqueness of the city. Don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing to experience life like the locals do. Living like a local you’ll probably eat better, but I think being a tourist is underrated. Tourists bring life and energy to the city, and sometimes tourists enjoy the city more than the locals do!

Being a local (or a wannabe local), you can miss out on some of the wonderful experiences because they are “touristy.” I know that’s true when I’m in San Francisco. I’ve only been based here for about a year now, but I’ve realized that I’m not taking time to enjoy the city I’m living in.

These days, I’m trying to visit more of the “touristy” areas. It’s actually kinda fun being a tourist.