I’ve only sort of been to Italy, which is kind of a pain in the ass—do I count it as a country I’ve visited, or no? (Is that a super pretentious question? I suppose so.) My brother and I skipped across the border from Switzerland to go to a fun market and then took a bus to the Milan airport. I craned my neck when we drove through Como, hoping to spot George Clooney or at least his house/mansion/palace.
(Storytime: When my brother first moved to Switzerland, he decided to bike to Lake Como. Google directed him to get on the highway, which he didn’t realize was a highway. So he’s biking along, and everyone is honking at him, and finally the police pull him over. After he explains the situation, he gets a police escort to the next exit. It’s really a hilarious story. My life is mostly really boring, so when I don’t know what to talk about—and I never know what to talk about—I just tell my brother’s cool stories from living abroad.)
Anyway, this photo of the Cinque Terre cements my desire to one day travel to Italy. I’d also love to visit Umbria and eat approximately a billion olives, and Venice, where I would feel super romantic about everything even though I was traveling on my own.
photo by yvonne bauer