I think I have officially found the error to my ways. I'm sorry it has taken this long! But it's seriously impossible to post about every event from our travels with play-by-plays. Impossible, I say! I will try my best to write the important bits. 
    Remember that one time I flew across the world and spent 10 days in Europe? Yeah that was December of 2014, it's safe to say I am a little late on this. It was an amazing, thrilling experience. I'm determined to go back and hit up the highlights but to most importantly- SHARE THE PICTURES.

    Right before we boarded our flight I thought I might have a little breakdown. I was a complete mess as I checked, re-checked, and re-re-checked to make sure everything was in its place. It was my first time leaving the country. We had passports, 4 small suitcases filled to the brim, 3 jackets a piece, a camera, snack bag, itinerary notebook etc etc etc. We had two flights, one to JFK and another to Milan, which were not connecting. I mistakenly bought rather short layovers which was cause for much contention. I was responsible to see that we had all four boarding passes printed/available, picked up luggage from the first flight and redelivered to the second airline and essentially that we would have everything squared away to go through 2 different security checks. (Not to mentioned the 8 hour red-eye.) And Graham was miserably sick with a fever, poor thing. I felt like I was going to go absolutely crazy.
    We flew smoothly to New York, rushed around like loonies upon arrival (Including: getting lost near the luggage pick-up, being unable to reenter the airport for th second flight until we spoke with Delta Reps and then waiting an hour to get through security checkpoint. My anxiety was through the roof.) After everything we sat windowside on an enormous plane and took off.
    As soon as we touched down in Milan we were to follow a strict schedule I had painstakingly made. Of course, The mountains covered in snow in the distance reminded me that this wasn't the Southern winter I was used to. I decided to exchange my flats for my tennis shoes to keep warm. I rummaged in my bag and rummaged some more and rummaged a little more after that and came up empty handed. Ughhhhhh. So I opted for my black flats covered in black rhinestones since that was all that I had.
    We trekked and carried on, which you can read more about here and here. But Cinque Terre's truly spectacular views came with a price. Every day we had to climb hundreds of steps at a deep incline, up and down, then back again.
     This is where I noticed my shoes were beginning to be a BIG problem. These fit, but were just a hair tighter than I preferred and the constant steps were making my toes throb, particularly on my right side. Now as cute and quaint at CT was, there wasn't any shoe shop nearby (not to mention we were stranded by a train for hours anyway). So I did the only thing I could think of, I folded the back of my heel, on the right side, down to ease the pressure off my toes.
    Did anyone remember up there where I said the shoes were completely rhinestone studded? Yeah, well, they were. With each step they pricked my foot, but not quite as unbearable as my toes jamming against the shoe. On and on and on and on and on and on as I walked. I was my own biggest enemy with the stupid little schedule held in the colorful notebook tucked under my arm. It might say "walk .8 miles" and we walked it, again and again.
    By Day 4 we had just endured a torrential downpour in Rome. We spent an hour finding our apartment. We missed our Colosseum appointment. We were harassed by another crazy Island Boy about buying knock off purses. And my feet were aching. It was a day where I wanted to crawl into the gutter.
    Then as we walked along the street market we popped into the Italian equivalent of a Dollar General. And staring at me was a pair of gray sandals with green and pink floral accents. They were hideous, but I knew them to be mine- call it destiny, fate, or maybe a revelation of sorts.
    The following morning I searched for the only thick pair of socks I had brought. A lush navy blue and white pair, also unattractive. As self-conscious as I knew I should have been, I wasn't. There was no longer time to play any games; it was me, these shoes, and these socks. We would be a trio to remember forever. And I kid you not, that very day was when our trip of mishaps and aggravation wrapped up. I'm telling ya'll, it had to of been fate.

Throwing a little shade with my super awesome footwear. I hope to never forget this.

That Time I Threw Up on the Coral Reef

    As we left our little bungalow in Key Largo. 

   Monday morning, Labor Day, was a day I was looking forwards to and dreaded simultaneously. The highlight of the day: snorkeling, a 4 hour trip of it! Considering Graham had only went once in 6th grade and I had never went, I was ready to go full blown Dora the Explorer mode. Unfortunately after snorkeling we had to make the 6 hour drive home, in order to be at work the next day, so it was like a give and take kind of thing.

    We had snacks prepared, a towel and oodles of energy. We stepped on the boat and things were good. It took an hour to get 5 miles from shore, all the while we stood at the front of the boat, eagerly letting the water splash all over our legs and, occasionally, faces. I sung songs from Celine Dion to Graham as we reenacted Titanic. It was glorious.  

    When time came to add on the gear, I was ready. We were given small life jackets, flippers, masks and snorkeling mouthpieces (whatever the heck those are called). When we were given access to leave the boat I was one of the first people off, Graham however was slow poking. As I watched everyone swim past me I couldn't believe there was a hold up, so I pleaded with him and then scolded him, ready to go. Finally we were off to the coral reef! As soon as we were there Graham kept hanging back, so I went off on my own as I scoured the reef for interesting fish and plant-life. Eventually Graham told me that water was seeping into his mask, so he couldn't enjoy a thing. I felt pretty guilty since I had been pretty selfish until then, so I tried to fix the mask, it broke! Woops. So we swam back to the all the way boat for a replacement. The distance wasn't exceptionally far, but enough to wear me out after making the trip. While he jumped aboard I just relaxed in the ocean, since the captain threw me a noodle to rest my feet on. After a minute or so Graham jumped in and we were off again. As we started to swim, I suddenly felt like the way back to the reef was so far away. Out of the blue (pun?), I began to feel incredibly nauseous. Graham, who had missed out of all previous adventures, was ready to make it up by searching now. I waved him on and couldn't fathom why I felt so miserable all of a sudden. He dove and inspected, having a great time. I slowly paddled over and took that stupid mouthpiece away from my face, it was making me more sick than anything. I explained how I felt to Graham, so he decided we should say a prayer. About 4 words into the prayer I couldn't hold back and retched all over. 

    Yup. You aren't legally allowed to touch the coral reef and I just threw up all over it. Yup, of course I did.

    After that I felt pretty horrible, my stomach wouldn't settle and I kept feeling the urge to gag, but we payed $40 bucks and I couldn't just swim back! So onward we looked, despite feeling super nauseated. When the horn blew signaling us to get back to the boat my heart rejoiced. While Graham wanted to slowly trudge back I was on "full steam ahead" mode, ready to get out of the lapping waves.

    Graham snorkeling near the statue of Jesus.

    Finally climbing on the boat was weird, the rocking, usually not an issue for me, must have paved the way for sea sickness because I spent the next bit traveling next to fellow ladies who didn't gain sea legs as we took turns leaning our heads over the boat to gag or whatever else. 

    And pretty much, that's what happened throughout the duration of the trip. I couldn't get the strength to jump off the boat so I stayed aboard for the remaining two expeditions. I really wanted to see the underwater statue of Jesus, but that was where the waves were the most rough and there was no way I was getting off. All in all, I was pretty disappointed (and even now wish I had of at least attempted to go) but I did manage to get sick at every stop, so who knows how miserable I would have been actually in the water. One time I figured maybe not having any food in my belly was the problem, so I bit into a cheezit and immediately threw it back up. It was a sad experience.

    Different people took turns staying on the boat during the excursions after everyone seemed to have little blips of headaches, blisters, sunburn, etc. At the same time, everyone also had a pretty enjoyable experience. The first two hours were awesome for me! Just the remaining ones were horrible. On the boat ride home Graham and I actually put our heads together and slept. The whole day was very exhausting. 

   I really hope I don't have perpetual sea sickness? Is that even a thing? My father said, "oh it's all in your mind!" Wrong, it was real, I definitely feel more compassionate towards people with motion sickness now. (By the way, I never have it and Graham constantly does, ironically he had a great time minus a little spurt of nausea.) So now I'm ready to try snorkeling again. After this hapless adventure... Let's just say I need to redeem myself!

     HA. This is what a long snorkeling excursion sans sunscreen and energy loos like.