The perfect symphony in Athens.
When traveling back to Torino, across northern Italy, I learned that things don’t always go as planned.
I strode straight past the bus, and headed towards the edge of Lake Atitlan.
I enjoyed the wise turtle, the vibrant fish and waving anemones, the beautiful silence and brilliant, sun-tinged calm of Maui.
The morning air was cool and fresh, the sun beaming down promising a warm day. Me and a few of my Habitat for Humanity teammates sat around a large table make of thick, dark wood, with intricately carved legs.
I felt as if I had been sucked back into the past.
I felt like I was in 15th century Genoa, wandering through lanes, deserted by the plague, passing closed doors hiding people taking refuge from the pestilence.
A man in a crisp uniform opened the door for us and we walked into the hotel, ready for our luxury dining experience.
The owner of the house came out to greet us, jovially waving, and embraced the guide, uttering a colloquial Vietnamese greeting.
Surrounded by 700 years of history and life in Vietnam, I discovered a new part of myself.