How I Found My Apartment in Florence, Italy

When I was first looking for my own apartment after leaving my au pair family, I had no idea what to expect. Not only is finding an apartment in Florence much more difficult than I thought (and that's saying a lot coming from LA where finding a decent apartment for a decent price is like searching for a needle in a haystack), it is even more stressful to find the right people to live with. As an American, I was worried about living with random people from other cultures, who would basically be the equivalent of Craigslist roommates. Would my stuff get stolen when I'm not home? Will I feel safe? Would there be huge, awkward and unmanageable cultural differences? Will I wake up to my toes being sucked on? Um, I'll pass, thanks. But no judgements if you're into that type of thing. Do you, boo boo!

"Is it cool if I shave my pubes in here?"

First, I was looking exclusively for American expats and other English teachers to live with. When that proved difficult, I expanded my search to American students at the study abroad universities. Little did I know, the school organizes all their housing for them, so I had no options in that category. Next, I began looking into local Italian university students. I figured there had to be someone renting a room near campus. But, once again, no such luck. Either I had to share a room with an 18 year old girl with our two rickety twin sized beds crammed in the room, or I was 3 weeks too late since the semester had already started and everything was taken. If it wasn't that, and I actually managed to schedule a meeting with someone to see the room for rent, it was cancelled when I was on my way. Or, when they would write me after I'd been waiting near the building 20 minutes after our appointment time saying it was already rented and they forgot to tell me. That was the worst. I cursed all Italians for wasting my time and my best friend got a very angry Whatsapp voice message of me venting my hot air that day. I was a poet with my profanities, which I'm still kind of proud of.

My apartment search was taking longer than I was hoping, so out of desperation, I began looking on every lamp post, website and bulletin board in the city for an ad in my price range. Without much luck online, and calling the numbers of old flyers in the library just to be told in Italian that the room had been rented, I was seriously considering living under a bridge. Homelessness doesn't sound like such a bad idea when disguised as an adventure! Finally, I heard of a Facebook page that is a place where people advertise rooms for rent in the city. Apparently Craigslist isn't really a huge thing here, but it does exist. Who knew that website where you waste so many hours of your life at a time would actually be useful here!

With more denials and more frustration, I had to expand my search yet again. This time, it was considering living with the opposite sex. As I thought about all the awful (and/or amazing) things that could happen living with boys, I cringed and fantasized at the same time. After only a few inquiries, I got some serious responses. This got my thinking, are they only responding because of my profile picture? I took a chance and went to see them anyway. After seeing a place that could only be described as sticky, decorated with Infected Mushroom posters and empty bottles of SKYY, it was a relief to see the next place. Sure, there was a centimeter of dust covering the tile floor and an old couch upside down in a space that maybe was supposed to be a living room, but it felt good. There were two Italian guys, who couldn't have been more opposite in style and demeanor, but they were nice, and I didn't get creepy vibes from them at all. Those could have been infamous last words, but thankfully, it was true. They had just rented the whole apartment after the last tenants left, who were apparently disgusting students and left everything a mess. They were in the process of cleaning everything out and getting ready to move in. It was going to be a fresh start.

I moved in two days later into my own room, with clean floors, newly painted walls, a few pieces of old furniture, and I even managed to get a double bed. It's common in Italy to tie together two twin sized beds to make a matrimoniale (king size bed), since it's cheaper than to buy a large bed in one piece, not to mention easier to move in through the small hallways and doors. So, with a few zip ties, some elbow grease to reuse some of that old furniture and a trip to IKEA later, I was all settled in.

I live with three Italian boys, 2 of whom are students, and the other is a sommelier at a restaurant, which means a constant stock of good (not to mention free) wine. Score! They're not so bad, although one of them barely speaks English and the other two are a bit rusty, it's been a lot of fun. The cultural differences and language barriers were hilarious in the beginning, but now we are actually learning from each other. I have some great stories which I will share in future posts. Stay tuned!

Do you have any hilarious/weird/gross apartment searching or roommate stories? Share in the comments below!

Why Life is Like Riding a Bike

Today I bought a bike in Florence. A used, rusty, basic, non-shock-absorbing bike, equipped with a metal basket in the front, a little pink bell, and even a kickstand. Oh yeah.

As I was riding home with a wet, sore ass (well, struggling in that general direction since I realize I always use my GPS and I wasn't able to while riding), a light, simple smile shone across my face as I realized something on this gray, damp Florence day. Life is like riding a bike.

I haven't ridden a bike probably since I was 12, and it felt so awkward mounting something now that wasn't a man. Can I make a reference to sweet childhood memories and my sexual escapades in adulthood in the same sentence without it being in bad taste...? Oh well. I was in public, feeling like Bambi with wheels, and not knowing the rules of road, but was I kidding, it's Italy; there are no rules! I was scared shitless riding on the street with all the scooters, motorscylces and tiny little cars honking and swerving around me, trucks driving 6 inches from my handlebars and all the weird street directions that change in an instant. Next thing you know, you're going the wrong way down a one way street and you can't even ride in straight line. It was awful and scary, yet so liberating all at the same time.

Once I got the hang of it, it all came rushing back to me. Just as I got cocky, I remembered what it felt like to fall off a bike. As an adult, I found myself thinking: These leggings were expensive, the road is wet from last night's rain and I don't even know how to wash this coat. I don't want to be the stupid American girl who falls off her bike and everyone laughs at. What if I hurt myself? I do have bad knees. Damn, my knees...I'm out of shape. Did it always take this much work to push the pedals? I used to be able to ride with no hands. HA! I still do...what is wrong with me?

With the wind in my face and actually having to think about where I'm going without using my phone as a crutch, I enjoyed the feeling of that first freedom of having my own wheels. When you're a kid, having a bike was the best. You feel like you can go anywhere and do anything. You are in complete control. I felt something similar.

This bike is not mine. Also, I bet it was stolen shortly after this picture was taken.

In life, we all have good experiences and bad ones. We learn from the bad and reminisce about the good. Some things we only need to experience once to learn from, while other things take a few dozen times until we get it right (like my love life....still waiting to learn that lesson). Riding a bike is literally something you never forget how to do, even if you haven't done it in years. It may be scary at first, but once you get the hang of it, it seems like a piece of cake. That's kind of how I feel about living at the moment. It's all too easy to get caught up in life, even abroad, worrying about jobs, money, bills, and daily life. But today, with the wind in my hair and the steady rythm of pushing the pedals, I felt like I reconnected with a part of me that had been forgotten. The part of me that wants to travel, appreciates the little things, and is open to new experiences and paths. I fell off my methaphorical bike for a few months being consumed by everyday problems and worrying way too much, but really all I needed was to get back on and enjoy the breeze on my face, even if I didn't know which direction I was going. With all the ups and downs over the past year, this was a great reminder to myself to live. Don't get caught up in what everyone else is doing, just do what makes you happy and keeps you on the path to your goals. Albeit cheesey, it's true.

I now have a bike in Florence. I am officially a Fiorentina. One step closer to being the Italian I'll never actually be. Now, let's just hope it doesn't get stolen.

Reverse Culture Shock: Returning Home After Being Abroad

It's a strange thing you feel when you realize you no longer fit into your native culture the way you used to. Traveling changes you, opens your eyes, your heart and your mind. After being in the US for almost a month and coming back to Italy, I see a lot of differences in myself I hadn't noticed abroad, as well as seeing my own culture through a new lens.

The first week back home in LA was kind of a blur. I was jet-lagged, scrambling to see my friends and family, and constantly thinking about my visa application I had submitted the day after I landed. Being surrounded by the people I love was a great feeling and I really missed everyone, but I couldn't help but notice something was...off. With every conversation I had, my suspicions had grown into the obvious truth: I don't fit here anymore. While everyone around me seemed to be talking about money, status, and striving for the way to live, I found myself witnessing things as an outsider. Sometimes I felt like I wasn't even in the room. I didn't relate to anything they were talking about anymore and that's when I realized.


I've changed, I've grown.


I don't see it as a bad thing, but I knew that I felt different. I'd been living in another country for the past three months and have grown accustomed to the Italian ways of doing everyday things, so of course I felt out of place. I had forgotten what full-fledged capitalism felt like. Everyone-out-for-themselves-dog-eat-dog-money-hungry hustling. Oh yeah...this is America. I was now seeing what people from other countries were talking about when they spoke about typical American culture. It was weird seeing my own culture through a semi-Italian lens. I'm not saying it's bad or wrong to think or behave the way most Americans do, it's just different than what I had gotten used to. I was forced to adapt, but I had done it much better than I realized. Italians are about family, community and helping each other out. I will admit, I had a pretty hard time taking help when I first arrived. I had my American pride. I wanted to figure things out on my own, get what I needed, and feel proud to say that I did it myself. But this way of thinking caused me a lot of frustration and it wasn't until later that I realized I need people around me to care and want to help. Once I accepted that, I felt much more at home. Call it maturation, realizing I can't do it all on my own, or adapting to the Italian way. Whatever the reason, I needed to be humbled, and I was. After awhile, I found myself helping people out whenever I could, too. Plus, you know, seeing confused tourists looking at an upside down map just got annoying, so I figured I might as well try to be part of the solution for everyone and send their simple asses on their way. The sidewalk needed to be cleared for people who actually have somewhere to be. You're welcome, Florence.




"Where is the Duomo? I can't see anything with this huge church in the way!"


Another thing I noticed was how inadequate I felt when my friends talked about their ambitions. According to everyone around me, at my ripe age of a 20-something with a college degree, I should have started a full-time career with benefits by now, living in my own apartment, and planning my next steps for the future. In Italy, I literally have none of those things. I am barely getting by stringing a few part-part-time jobs together to pay for the room I rent in an apartment with my three Italian boy roommates, I'm without health insurance and I am nowhere near being financially stable as someone my age "should be".

I have no idea what my 5-year plan looks like. I can barely see past next week, let alone five years from now! I do, however, get drunk on fancy Italian wine a lot, so there’s that. It felt so great being back in LA (sarcasm alert--read: It fucking sucked). Yes, I also saw that so-and-so from high school is working at that big company with a nice salary and is newly engaged, thanks Mom, now get off Facebook. Is it just me, or does it seem like social media was specifically designed to allow people to over exaggerate small bullshit victories solely to make other people jealous, yet we all secretly feel insecure so we continue the cycle of bragging to make ourselves feel better? Nobody seriously loves their job that much or truly can’t get over how amazing their significant other is to where they have to tell the world every fucking Monday and Wednesday how in love they are or how hot they think their boyfriend is. Yes, we get it. Woah, that escalated quickly. What was I saying? Oh, right, my crappy little life.




Sounds way more awesome if you ask me.


But in all seriousness, it was much different being home than I imagined. First I didn’t want to have to go because I felt I was just getting into the rhythm of things in Italy, then when I knew there was no getting around it, I got excited to go and see my friends and family and be somewhere familiar and actually be able to talk to people in public. Then, once I arrived, my expectations were completely turned upside down and I felt like an alien. The hardest part was feeling disconnected from my friends. They were talking about the same old things and there I was, having only been gone three months, yet feeling I lived on another planet for a year. On the bright side, everyone told me I seemed happier than ever. That much was true. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what my job is, how much money I have, or what people expect of me; I made the leap to do something not many people I know would have the guts to do. For that much, I am proud. I have the courage, ambition and faith to follow my dreams. During those times I start to get down on myself when I think of where I thought I would be at this point in my life, the career I wanted and the type of American Dream I had when I was younger, I have to stop and realize that I am doing something amazing and completely different than I thought, but in the best way possible. It takes time to build something out of nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—starting my life in another country. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Touching down in Tuscany

I'm here!!! Sono qui in Firenze! La mia bella citta!

Prepare for landing. Benvenuto a Firenze!

I haven't posted in awhile because these past few weeks have been a whirlwind! From packing my entire life into a tiny storage unit, packing and repacking my luggage, saying my goodbyes, going away parties, lots of emotions and trying to center myself in preparation, I think it's safe to say I've been busy. Although the road hasn't been easy, I can honestly say that the moment I arrived to Florence, it was all worth it.

Looking over Florence from the Palazzo Vecchio Tower on a sunny summer day.

Pure, unwavering happiness.



The past week and a half has been very eventful. I've been able to explore some little towns just outside of Florence, try new foods and restaurants, see new things, be a tourist, and just soak it all in. I'm glad I've had some time to explore, but now it's time to get down to business.

I spoke with the US Embassy yesterday about my options for a work visa (more on that whole story later) and I had a bit of a reality check. Although I do need to jump on finding a job, I just have this strange sense of peace and calm that everything will work out. I have an interview in two weeks at a language school, and after that is when everyone gets back into town from holiday. In Italy, the month of August is like one big summer vacation. Most Italians, especially in Florence because of the heat, leave the city in search of cooler climates. Almost everything is closed for weeks out of the month, leaving only the tourist spots up and running, and not to mention overcrowded. Not only has it reached 101 degrees, there are also tourists everywhere, and the options of things to do are limited. Hot and crowded. Not a good combo. I wish I was at a beach somewhere in the south of France, too!

Nonetheless, I'm happy to be here and loving the fact that I can say I LIVE HERE! Ok, so I don't have an apartment of my own to call home, but my clothes are hanging in a closet, and thats basically the same thing, right?

Whenever I'm wandering through the streets and see the Duomo peaking through an alley, I feel the urge to stop and pinch myself. Is this real life?! I'm in love with this city and I am SO HAPPY I made the decision to come here. All the stress and bullshit was worth it. I know this feeling of a new place will wear off sometime, but right now I am drinking in every drop. I never want it to end.


Have any advice where I should eat or visit? Tell me in the comments!

Moving To Europe and Teaching Abroad

MissDirection. What a perfect name for me/my blog. What am I doing? Where am I going? I can’t believe I’m actually taking the leap and moving abroad. I enrolled in a TEFL class, so in 11 weeks I will be a certified ESL Teacher deciding where to apply for jobs. I will be leaving in August to go to Florence for 6 weeks to be an au pair for the family I lived with a couple of summers ago. I’m so happy they’ve decided to have me because this will be a great transition into figuring out where to live and getting my shit together before I jump into the job market. I’ll be in a comfortable, familiar place like the calm before the storm.

Florence is my happy place. My soul feels whole and my heart becomes giddy. I can’t help but smile walking through the city. I must look like a lunatic, but that is the one place where I am just genuinely, truly happy. I can’t wait to be there and just enjoy being present.

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy 

Loving San Gimignano, tucked away in the Tuscan Hills.

September/October is the hiring season for teachers, which is when I will have interviews. I am probably going to apply in Spain and some cities around Italy. Since most language schools in Europe don’t offer contracts to their teachers, I can stay for as long or as short as I want. I’m thinking I’ll stay at my first job for at least 6 months, enjoy Spain or Italy, then see how I feel. Who knows, I may want to stay! It’s hard to make plans this early, though. I can guess and “plan” all I want, but I don’t know what is going to happen. I prefer to have a loose idea of what I want, then to wing it after that. It always works out better that way for me…ok, well, not always. I guess I just enjoy the freedom of choice.

I am a college graduate with no savings (thanks to rent and my TEFL course), student loans due in a few months and I’m planning this move to Europe. It sounds crazy, right? Well, it is. If you're feeling generous or believe in my dream, you can donate to my GoFundMe campaign. I would be forever grateful! I honestly don’t know what I’m doing, but my heart is telling me I have to. Corny, I know, but despite my lack of funds, I do have a plan, which I will talk about in another post. 

Before I even thought of starting a blog of my own, I remember looking for a travel blog with advice and a real story of the struggle other people had to go through in order to get to where they were. I hated reading all the awesome stuff without mention of the hard work it took to make enough money for their trip or figuring out logistics or worrying about having enough savings before their departure. I wanted to hear about those things because that’s what makes it real. That’s what I want to give to those of you out there who want to know what it really takes, which is why I’ve decided to document my pre-departure. It’s not going to be easy, and that’s ok. Hard work is what makes the payoff even sweeter. I can’t wait to get started.