You're nothing but a sister!

     Before I arrived at the airport, I called of few people to say my final farewells; One of those people was my sister Tiffani. The conversation was something along the lines of, "Hey, I'm glad you called, don't be nervous, remember to party every day, don't miss me too much, eat wonderful food, have a great time, remember to find a bridesmaid dress, see you in 3 months, love you!" Pretty standard, right? At one point during the call, I said something about me probably getting lost in an airport with no one who could help or understand me and never being able to make it back home. We laughed, and Tiffani, half jokingly said, "Well, I guess you can either cry or have an adevnture." We hung up soon after that, and I'd bet money that Tiffani doesn't remember having said it. I, however, could not seem to forget it. It was at the front of my mind as I navigated the airports and airplanes filled with foreign languages and equally foreign people. Even if I tried to pluck it from my thoughts, it stayed firmly rooted in the soil of my brain (strangest phrase I may have ever written).
     I'm no longer lost in airports, but that thought feels equally as relevant as it did 2 weeks ago. I'd be lying if I told you that this whole trip has been pure bliss, so I won't. Italy is boiling over with beauty, and I've only had a small taste of it; The people are wonderful, and I enjoy everyone I meet; The food easily makes life worth living, and would recommend it to anyone contemplating suicide. But there is, as with anything, a side to it which is equally as difficult as it is wonderful. Trying to learn the language from scratch has felt on the verge of immposible. I get so much satisfaction out of discerning what people are saying, but it's usually only after using every bit of brain power I have that I can make out what's being said. My brain never gets the chance to rest; It's always on, always working. It's surprisingly tiring. I do my best to be helpful to the Mongias, but half of the time I feel fairly useless which has never been a feeling I enjoy. I can't help but look out into this next 2 1/2 months and wonder what I'm doing. Could I have used this time for school? Could I be working? Maybe I should have only stayed a month... I didn't expect to miss everyone this much, ect, ect, ect... The list goes on. It's during these moments that what Tiff said seems to echo through the chasms of my mind the loudest, and I am stopped from becoming a pathetic little girl, hiding in my room all day.
     "You can either cry, or have an adventure."
     It's my new mantra. It hasn't stopped me entirely from crying, so when I do I am always sure to match it with a grandiose adventure. At this point, my definition of an adventure may be walking an hour to get to Monte Croce Church just to see what the hills look like from a higher elevation, but to me, those are the kind of adventures I get the most out of.
     Long live older sisters.