by Erica Costa
The thrill of being in a completely different country made it impossible for me to stop smiling. I stepped off the plane into Lisbon, Portugal, which would fill my life with nothing but the most remarkable experiences for the next couple of months. The air...how the air smelled like a new beginning. I arrived at my hotel, which was decorated with wallpapers that I had never seen before. I decided to allow some natural light into the room, which was when I witnessed the most breathtaking view.
The enormous window captured the magnificent scenery of the beach. I quickly threw my luggage on the bed and headed to the beach; my favorite place to be, my happy place. My feet sunk into the sand as I admired the waves that occasionally formed. I was delighted.
The following days, I visited different places in Portugal. I had to get out of the city if I wanted to meet different kinds of people. There is nothing wrong with city life, but I yearned for something more genuine: down to earth, pure, rural. I found myself miles away from the city, where I met the most beautiful family. They cooked on handmade fires outside their tiny home, showered from water coming down in a stream, and the children played hopscotch until sunset. I was fortunate to have met such pleasant and humble individuals. They invited me to enjoy their favorite meals and their favorite places to sit. I have always loved the outdoors; my mother could never get me to stop playing outside as a young child. I discovered that my upbringing caused me to have many common traits with this particular family.
Once again, I wanted to see more. For the remainder of my journey, I resided in Paris, France. I visited the Grand Palais Museum, and immediately I was fascinated by the architecture. I figured that it must have taken the most skillful and intelligent individual to design such a work of art. Kudos to the hardworking men and women that made the design come to life. The museum indeed was alive. Outside of the museum were talented dancers and so much diversity amongst the individuals that passed by.
The Museum of Grand Palais was indeed a tourist location. I could not restrain myself from dancing as someone played an instrument and sang in French.
I was alive.
I learned a different dance move than the ones I have on replay. I danced with a gorgeous boy–HA! Paris IS the city of love.
As I walked by people, they joked and laughed; but most importantly, they each had something about themselves that represented who they were. Whether they were selling their favorite cooking recipes or handmade bracelets, it was from their culture.
Commentaires