If you've been following me on Instagram or Twitter, then you probably know quite a bit about what I've been up to this year (hint: not writing). Image credit: Pixabay. I write this post over a breakfast of bagels and cream cheese and American coffee, the likes of which I haven't tasted in a year. Sitting here in a familiar routine I have not had the time for, nor the resources (bagels are hard to come by in Italy), it is almost easy to slip back into the life I once lived. B
Those who have been following me for a while know that last year I did quite a bit of solo-traveling, documenting my adventures on here and on my Instagram (@awendtwriting). After classes ended and my last thesis assignment was turned in before the first, polished draft at the end of July, I had to get out of Florence for a while. I had to detach myself, for a few days, from what I can only describe as a stress-filled, stifled, pressured environment. In the hopes that when I
There are a lot of new changes and adjustments in my life to get used to, what with the start of grad school, so I'm going to try to go easy on myself with what I'd like to get accomplished over the next few months. Image credit: Pixabay. SUMMER REVIEW I actually got a lot more done over the summer than I thought I would. I studied for two evaluations that I just took during orientation for my Master's program, and I managed to do a LOT of revisions on SHORE OF DARKNESS, my "
Note: This was originally published on my old blog in May 2017. For my last semester of college, I had the wonderful experience of curating an exhibit with my African Art class. First, I want to acknowledge how much I enjoyed the class itself. African art is completely unlike anything else I've ever studied in art history. It's rich and fascinating and there's still so much room for exploration. I really appreciated my experience in the class. It opened my mind to a broader d
I've always wanted to visit D.C., and one of my best friends from college happens to live there, so I finally found an opportunity to spend a long weekend in our nation's capital! Image credit: Alexandra Wendt. I love visiting big cities. I grew up in a fairly big town, and right outside a city, but not in a big city, so they've always been fun to visit. D.C. was also my first experience using an American metro system, and it was weird to think that I'm more familiar with the
Unless something spontaneous comes up, I have taken what is most likely my last trip during this incredible year abroad. (I realized I only have five weeks left. Five. Weeks. I can't think about that.) One of the challenges of this year is how alone and independent I've had to be for most of it. This isn't something necessarily negative (I value my alone time), but when you're doing things like traveling by yourself, the pressure is on when you're responsible for everything.
One of my friends from when I studied abroad in Siena is back in Italy to be an au pair in Florence for a couple months, so we decided to do a weekend trip to Pompeii together! She planned this entire trip, so be sure to check out her awesome travel blog. She also wrote about our experience and has some great tips to share, some of which I'll repeat below. It was a very quick trip, arriving in Naples early afternoon on Saturday and returning Sunday evening. I recommend taking
I've lived here long enough to be able to compile what I feel is a pretty solid list of reasons why I love to live in Italy. As I've said, I know very well at this point that it isn't some Under the Tuscan Sun-inspired fairytale, and yet, two years after I first arrived here, nine months total, something urges me to stay as long as I possibly can. Image credit: Alexandra Wendt. 1. I feel healthier here. This probably doesn't shock many people, given the reputation of Italian
Note: This was originally published on my old blog, and garnered nearly 900 views on a blog that averaged maybe 70. The sentiment in it is still applicable nearly two years later, so I have updated it and republished it here. Hiraeth (Welsh) (n.): a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places in your past. When I was in seventh grade, I read Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. It
About a month ago, I decided not to tell my mom I was coming home for Christmas. We had been going back and forth on this all semester: do I come home or do I not? I was comfortable in Italy, I didn't really want to deal with the hassle and expense of international travel when I'd only be there about a month...but I also couldn't imagine not spending Christmas with my family or spending it alone. When it became clearer to me that going home was the option I was leaning toward