I have writer’s block.

I have a bad case of writer’s block.  And it’s not due to a lack of inspiration.

In fact, I’m incredibly inspired right now.  I just returned from a fabulous trip in Europe, where I was completely blown away by the beauty of the land, food, culture and people. I wanted to tell you all about it. 

I wanted to creatively weave words on paper that would describe my experience, or at least a small part of it.  I wanted to paint vivid word pictures for you.  I wanted you to feel like you were standing atop the cathedral balcony, overlooking the hills of the colorful Cinque Terre homes.  I wanted to make you feel like you were hiking in the French Alps, feeling the altitude and the wind, smelling the fragrant wildflowers.  I wanted you to admire the magical mosques in Turkey and hear the haunting midday prayers vibrating through the city.  I wanted you to taste the creaminess of the gelato and the tenderness of the homemade pasta.  I wanted you to giggle with me at the old, round Italian man sunbathing naked on the side of the bike path.  And I wanted you to laugh hysterically with me when Jeff took a picture of a swan that was butt-up in the lake in Annecy.

I wanted you to know what it feels like to navigate through Italy and France without a GPS.  I wanted you to feel humble yet confident as you decoded Turkish subway signs.  I wanted you to feel like you were right there on the streets of Florence observing the trendy Italian jeans from the old bridge on the Arno River.  I wanted you to accidently say pene [penis] instead of pane [bread] and be able to laugh at yourself and try again.

I wanted you to meet a Nigerian man in a small town in Italy and discuss [in English and Spanish] the racial problems he encounters.  I wanted you to walk up to the 500 year-old castle in Dozza, Italy and imagine what it would be like to defend your city.  I wanted you to see the little Italian ladies biking in skirts and high heels, groceries in tote.

I wanted you to sit down for a five-hour dinner with your Italian host. I wanted you to start with prosciutto and formaggio [cheese], paired with a glass of wine or prosecco.  Then you would have a salad and antipasti, followed by a primi [first dish], likely pasta or grilled veggies.  Next you would have your segundi [main dish] of castrated lamb or some kind of meat drizzled with olive oil.  You would be very full at this point, but in order to please your host, you would indulge in a pastry and espresso.  You would feel full physically, but even fuller with the rich conversation.

I wanted you to experience being a misfit, clearly standing out in a crowd.  I wanted you to get out of your comfort zone and try something new.  Maybe even anchovies from the Mediterranean Sea.

I wanted you to get a glimpse of Greenland as you flew over it on your way home.

I wanted so much for you to have all of this, even if through reading.  I wrote at least ten draft blog posts, hoping to give you this.  But I’m afraid none of these blog posts will do justice to the actual thing.  It’s like the picture of the French Alps that I took from the car – it’s pretty and nice, but it doesn’t capture the magnificence that it had in person.

I think I want all of this for you because these things made me come alive.  These things invited me to fully taste, smell, see, hear and feel.  These things summoned me to be present in the moment.  These things encouraged me to observe, rather than compare.  These things fostered a curiosity in me that is rare in my daily routine.  These things empowered me, humbled me, excited me and settled me.  These things filled my adventure tank.

And I want that for you.

I want you, wherever you are, to tap into your five senses.  To enjoy with great pleasure the beauty around you.  To engage fully with the people whom you meet.  To delight in the littlest of things.  To forget, if just for a few minutes, the worries of your day.  To allow things to surprise you.  To be quick to laugh.  To be courageous and try new things.  And to give yourself a lot of grace when you mess up.  I want you to get lost and then find your bearings.  I want you to explore and to rest.  I want you to be curious about other people and different cultures.  I want you to learn more about who you are and embrace your identity.  I want you to feel fully alive.

My dear friend, I want these things for you – whether you are in the streets of Florence, the boats of Cinque Terre, the subway of Turkey, the countryside of Virginia, the busyness of New York, the suburbs of Cincinnati or wherever you are right now.

And I believe it’s here for you.  Go on, you wild adventurer, you.

Photos below by Jeff Dollard, my favorite travel companion.