The sights and sounds of the city are enough to make one want to run away from real life and indefinitely-- to have the gentle lull of the river as the soundtrack to home or the minarets up in the hills as guiding lights. Much like New York, the only thing I dislike about Sarajevo is that I'm always leaving. So it goes.
It’s heartwarming to know that Belgrade truly will still be here to welcome me home, no matter how long or far I stray.
Atop a wooden tower overlooking Lake Geneva, I wrote of Lausanne that the city is a painting, but one that looks like a dream— and perhaps feels like it too. I remember on that day the sky was a color blue I’m not sure I’ve ever seen captured in a work of art or even in a photograph. As in many places, I wondered (and wonder still) what it must be like to grow up in a place such as this. Do young children know how beautiful their world is compared to so many others? Do people leave when they grow old? And if they do, how could they?
The thing about Geneva is that it feels like just about anywhere— from its charming Parisienne cafes to its alarmingly brutalist apartment blocks and Thessaloniki-esque waterfront you really could be in countless other places. What’s more is that so few people in Geneva are actually from there; as one of the most international cities in the world it is home to people from every country you can think of, most of whom claim to have ended up there by accident.
If my hometown is a warm hug, a safe place to rest my head, then Belgrade, London, Geneva, wherever have you must be the jolt of anticipation felt when the object of your desire walks into the room. Even stronger still is Boston, the warmth in your chest felt after spending a day with your best friend, your mother, with someone you love.
And though my affair with Geneva is proving to be worthwhile, I cannot wait head home and grab a cup of coffee with Boston.
Geneva greeted us with its own quiet fanfare, like a standing ovation in a silent movie. A bright blue sky, clean air and brighter water enlightened the city’s streets to make even the plainest of buildings appear grand.
After so many new things this past year, it's time for me to settle in to where I am right now. So, goodbye 2017, goodbye (for now) TSW, and thank you. For everything. 2018, let's make this a good one.
A few weeks ago I finished working in the job of a lifetime and not long after that I moved out of a city that made me feel at home from the moment I arrived. Though endings may be sad, I am endlessly grateful for all I was able to do while living in London. As I write this now, from my apartment back home in the states, there's a big, dopey smile on my face.
As I watched the light change, I became melancholy. I’m going home soon. I don’t know when I’ll next be in Scotland or anywhere else in the UK, for that matter. But I do know that when I make it back to this side of the pond, Scotland and the sea will both be here waiting for me.
I'm a New Yorker, born and bred, a Boston transplant, a temporary Serb and, for now, a Londoner. As I look to the ever nearing 2018, I am curious to see where I will be. Right now, the plan consists of Boston and then a series of question marks over the spring and summer on my calendar. 2017 has been all kinds of busy, but I can't help but be on the look out for the next city that I may call home, at least for a little while. And Brugge certainly made an impression.
Somehow this list is even more ridiculous than the last. Cheers!
Edinburgh is a patchwork quilt of old and new: the buildings, the stores and the people are all a mixture of different times throughout the past few decades (or in some cases, centuries).Around each corner you'll find castles and bastions surrounded by contemporary retail outlets and 19th century homes. It creates a fantastical atmosphere that I haven't yet found anywhere else. Through both sun and rain, Edinburgh shines.
I was pleased to find that instead of the industry based city I pictured it to be, it had all of the charms of other small cities, with history, good food and local vendors around ever corner.
London greeted me with a torrential downpour. I’m not certain why I expected anything else, but as I stood under an overhang at Waterloo Station trying to remember where I packed my umbrella, I wasn’t the slightest bit upset. I have always dreamed of living in London, rain included, for as long as I can remember and my first few days here have far surpassed my expectations.
Saying goodbye to New York has never gotten easier, but I like to think I outdid myself this time- using my last day in the city to play tour guide to a friend that had never been and ending with dinner at Kafana, a whimsical Serbian restaurant in Alphabet City.
For the past few years, I’ve thought of my summers as a period of meditation-- of uninterrupted reflection, as I usually spend them working in New York, away from my friends who are scattered all over the globe. This summer was no exception and has been one of my most productive yet.
When asking around for recommendations in Helsinki, the overwhelming consensus on the city seems to be that it’s “small.”
It is difficult to describe Vilnius, since the city is somewhat, for lack of a better word, shy. Think f it as that one friend who is almost unnervingly quiet, but becomes the life of the party once you get them out of their shell.
As I planned my post-Belgrade travels I tried to maintain the mindset that sometimes you really do need to do the dumb thing even if it doesn’t really make sense, which is exactly how I found myself riding in a hot air balloon over Vilnius, Lithuania with four spaniards