The roar of lions carries across our neighborhood in Tirana almost every morning. Curious to meet the animals responsible, Jess and I spent an afternoon exploring the Tirana Zoo — an experience filled with wildlife encounters, muddy misadventures, and a few unexpected lessons about conservation.
For $22 round trip, we expected a simple day trip. Instead, Albania delivered roaring waterfalls, brutal climbs, surreal turquoise water, and two deeply skeptical construction-site puppies. Lake Bovilla and Gamti Mountain proved that the best adventures often begin with mild suffering and end with unforgettable views.
In Tirana, a deeply rooted idea called Besa shapes daily life — a quiet understanding that honor, integrity, and kindness are not optional. The result is a city that feels remarkably at ease.
A month in Hammamet, Tunisia taught us that travel isn’t always rainbows and butterflies. Between illness, stubborn weather, budget friction, and a steady undercurrent of hypervigilance, we learned what it means when a place doesn’t hold you gently—while still finding gifts in rooftop light, shared food, and a lightning storm we’ll never forget.
The storm did not pass through Hammamet.
It stayed.
Over days of relentless rain and unbroken lightning, the city flattened under water and sound. Streets vanished, thunder struck without warning, and buildings remembered what they were made for. This was not spectacle—it was endurance.
Sometimes crossing a border is more than paperwork or geography. On a ferry from Sicily to Tunisia, we found ourselves inside a system built not for comfort or spectacle, but for continuity—moving people, families, and the weight of daily life across the Mediterranean. This is a reflection on witnessing that crossing from the inside.
We didn’t set out to count the miles. But when we realized our feet had carried us almost exactly the distance from Sicily to Tunisia, the journey suddenly became something deeper than travel. This is a story about walking, migration, and the quiet moment when you realize you’ve crossed into a new life.
Mount Etna is more than a volcano — she’s a living, breathing force of nature that shapes weather, land, and the people who live beside her. This is a story about fog and fire, fear and courage, descending into silence, and learning that creation and destruction often come from the same place.
A personal reflection on living with gastroparesis and rediscovering joy, trust, and connection through food in Scicli, Sicily.
After days of rain and quiet walks through Scicli, our first true wildlife encounter didn’t come from the ground. It arrived suddenly from the sky—and was gone just as fast.
