This summer, I spent half a month in Italy — which sounds dreamy until you realize I was basically a popsicle thrown into a convection oven. I kept thinking, “’tis a privilege, right? I should be enjoying this?” But no. Absolutely not. Canada broke me.
It was too hot, too crowded, too smoky (my asthmatic ass was fighting for dear life). When I got to Rome (38 degrees out), my first thought was, “is this what hell feels like?” If you didn’t catch the news already, Europe is literally melting — streets buckling, animals burning their paws, people dropping like NPCs.
Navigating Rome and later Bari, I longed for Burnaby’s quiet. And getting home? A gauntlet: a frantic car ride, brutally delayed trains, a last?ditch cab, two planes, and my mom and sister nearly flatlining from stress.
Giovanna from Brazil — thank you for becoming my accidental travel buddy as we sprinted through transit purgatory. I will never forget you literally throwing yourself in front of that cab to make sure it’d be ours, since every train was cancelled. Icon.
As I landed in Vancouver and saw droplets of rain on the window, I almost let a few tears slip as I realized I’m home.
