The Barbell Side of Life

I've spent a lot of blog time talking about the backpack side of my journey and have left a lot of the barbell side unsaid, but there has been a journey there as well. There has been reflection, changes in perspective, good times, and some awesome friends along the way. My Europe box count is somewhere around 15 at this point. Most for just a day or two, but a few for a bit longer. I've experienced a ton of different gym cultures, training styles, coaching styles, and programming focuses. Some gyms are gymnastics based with majority of the wods based around body weight movements. In other words, for me, #win. Some gyms are endurance based with at least a mile of running incorporated into every workout. Lord help me. I've found a few that have a programming structure similar to what I'm accustomed: a variety of strength, skill work, and sprint metcons. With every box I visit, I follow the workout laid out for that day. I know that a lot of time, planning, and effort go into the programming, and I want to respect that. Plus, perhaps the best way to meet and connect with other crossfitters is to suffer through the same workout right next to them. What does this mean for my programming though? It essentially means that I don't have a structured one. Truly unknown and unknowable. The Hopper if you will. I have tried to stay consistent with some kind of strength work, and by strength work I mean try to move something heavy as often as can in the form of a squat or deadlift and try to get in snatching and cleaning at least once a week. Definitely not the volume I'd realize if I was home in the groove of training, but I've learned a lot through this as well.

I'm a competitive crossfitter, and I love being a competitive crossfitter. I love spending hours in the gym. I love that completely exhausted feeling after a hard workout. I love the excitement of new PRs and the anxious thrill of being out on the floor with my teammates. I love it all, and when I'm in that well-oiled routine, my efforts are focused on becoming a better competitive crossfitter. There becomes this mindset that unless it's heavy, weighted, or strict, it's not productive in terms of training. While I'd be lying if I said I haven't had a few moments of panic when I can't hit a max or feel like I'm losing something by not following a program geared toward Open and Regional training, taking a step back has reminded me of why I choose Crossfit not only as my competitive sport but also as the sport I hope to continue for the larger part of my life. Crossfit has taught me to love my body for what it can do. Functional fitness. Last week, I had a little over mile to walk and about 10 minutes until my train departed. I was also laden with 40 pounds of my stuff (that keeps growing btw). I made it. Functional fitness. "No sir, actually I don't need need help lifting my bag". Functional fitness. Walking the seven to eight miles a day that it takes to see a city instead of using public transportation. Functional fitness and a lot of saved money. 

 One mile backpack run. 3.2.1 Go!

I've come so far in my life in terms of my relationships with food, fitness, and health. Ten years ago, I wouldn't have survived this trip. Three years ago, it would have been extremely tough. Crossfit, not just competitive Crossfit, has saved me in so many ways. This trip has reminded me of that. It's brought me back to the roots of why I love this sport and reminded me to be appreciative of every workout, to keep it varied, and to never underestimate any wod. Respect the movement. For example, I walked into a gym one day and the programmed workout consisted of hollow rocks and arch rocks. That's it. No barbell. No pull ups. No Burpees. I immediately went into what I'll call my "elitest" mindset and thought "well this is going to be a waste of time". I did the workout anyway, and I'll be damned if I wasn't sore for the next two days. I had a similar experience with bear crawls. Keep your head out of the sky Amanda. Fitness is more than throwing heavy weight around. So while there's a good chance I won't be hitting my maxes right away when I get home and back to my normal training routine, I know for sure that won't be coming back any less fit than when I left and I'll have a refreshed outlook on why this sport is so great. 

I'm not done yet, but to all of the gyms I've visited thus far, thank you. You've enriched my European journey beyond measurable amounts. You enrich this sport beyond measurable amounts. Without the community, Crossfit is just a bunch of glorified warehouses with chalk-white pull up bars, piles of rubber bumper plates, and dirty floor mats that leave knees and bellies dirty on burpee day, and as a community, we are so much more than just that. 

As a side note, my three year Crossfit anniversary is coming up in a few days. It's been such a ride and one that I hope continues for a long long time. Below is my first ever Crossfit goal card. Those damn wall balls :) We all have to start somewhere.  It's amazing what can be overcome and accomplished with a little bit of hard work, patience, and a rock solid support system. I love this sport. 

Practically British

I hate London! This was honestly my first impression of a city that I actually grew to love over the three weeks I spent there, and the very reason I chose to do extended stays in a few places. There is so much more to every place than what the breadth of tourism offers. I hate being referred to to as a tourist actually. I'm a traveler. There is a difference. The difference is in the richness taken from each experience. It's in understanding what lives beneath the surface of a place, the culture and the people, as opposed to simply paying to see iconic buildings and buying cheap souvenirs. I do love London, but I would never buy a shirt that says it.  My first few days in London though were spent doing just that: being a tourist. Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace. I'm in no way saying that these places aren't fascinating. They are and shouldn't be missed, but oh my goodness the people. It was worse than Times Square in New York or Disney World on the Fourth of July. Okay maybe not THAT bad but very much like someone stepped on an anthill which sent the whole colony scrambling. There was the mix of locals in business suits trying to live their normal lives, but I'd be willing to bet that it was 90% visitors. How do I know this? Because about every fifty steps the person walking no more than a foot in front of you suddenly stops with a camera held to their face. Brake check. Like we use to do in elementary school while walking single file. This ends in one of two ways depending on how quickly reflexes are firing that day. You either run right smack into the back of that person, or you gracefully dodge that collision, slide to one side, and run into the person walking shoulder to shoulder with you. I've mellowed out quite a bit in terms of just going with the flow, but I have patience with this for about an hour. I like to swing my arms when I walk, and I don't like strange people in my pictures. Me and Central London just didn't mesh well.

  

London, however, has a beautiful under layer: eclectic markets, green and expansive parks, quaint English pubs. Every section of the city has it's own personality, it's own character; and I fell in love with more than one of them. I stayed with a young couple near the Battersea area which was walking distance to a beautiful park, a popular strip of pubs and delicious multi-cultural restaurants, a Crossfit gym, and an outdoor cinema complete with bean bags, wine, and Disney movies. Perhaps my favorite area was the Camden market. Food vendors with practically every cuisine imaginable, clothes, purses, shoes. Sensory overload at its finest. My first two weeks there I had beautiful weather to explore: mid-seventies and sunny. Everyone kept telling me that I was lucky. That I caught a great summer in terms of weather. I definitely underestimated their sincerity with this until it started raining my last week. It rained. And rained. Small rain, big rain, sideways rain. A lot like Forrest Gump. It'd go from sunny without a cloud in the sky to torrential cold downpour in the matter of one thunder clap. And the people. Oh you know, they just go with it. No big deal. Some pull small umbrellas out of purses or bags but most just keep walking not caring that they are getting soaked. I never became that British. I had my umbrella, and my poncho, and would zig-zag down the sidewalk doing small leaps over puddles so my shoes wouldn't get wet. This American is a wuss in the rain. Don't get me wrong, I'll dance in the rain all day long.. If I know I have a shower and dry clothes waiting for me. Not so much when I'm headed to sit for two hours at movie theater or to do a 30 minute EMOM of squat cleans. Maybe that level of tolerance comes with more time. 

Three weeks is enough time to start building relationships with people you see often. Still very much a revolving door, but maybe one that you stay in and go around a few extra times. I found a family in London and made some friends that I hope to stay in touch with for a long time. Crossfit Perpetua. Another home away from home. I'm getting pretty good at quickly getting a feel for the environment of different gyms. Some you walk in and know that it'll be fun and a good workout for a few days. Others you walk in and know that you could make it a home. From the moment I walked into Perpetua, I felt in my element. Great trainers, great people, solid programming, and they even have a sweet little coffee/protein shop in the gym. It was nice to be on a set schedule for more than a few days again and to train along some solid athletes. I'll be on the lookout for their team's rise in the European ranks over the next few years. One moment consistently stands out in my mind with this group though. It was Saturday, and we were doing this awful two minute cardio interval workout. The energy among the group was overwhelming. So much camaraderie. Just like home. Another great moment was when they recognized the 540 on my shorts and asked if it was the same 540 as the 540 workout. "It sure is", I replied proudly. How awesome is that?! A little ole Arkansas gym known all the way in London. You better bet that I've been wearing my Crossfit 540 gear proudly over here. The same five shirts actually, but the only five workout shirts I brought with me. I'm definitely proud of my Arkansas home. Arkansas home, Italy home, London home. How awesome is this community? It's like no other; I can guarantee that.  I walked a mile in the rain more than a few times to train with this crew, though, and there was always a full house there laughing with/at me for complaining about being drenched. Welcome to London they would say. When it came time to say goodbye, I realized it was a place I was really going to miss, but I'm walking away with a few weeks of good training and tons of new friends. Best of luck to everyone at Perpetua and thank you for truly unforgettable experience. 

That's the last of the UK. I'm headed back to a land where the language is foreign and pubs can't be found on very corner. More adventures to come 

A Southern Stroll

Alright. Back to the grind. I'm just rounding out a little over a month in Ireland and the UK. Let me start off by saying that these places were more like the US than anywhere else I have been thus far. English is the spoken language. Subways, McDonalds, and Starbucks strategically line public streets and are open later than 8 pm. Grocery stores have more than a single brand option, and there is always peanut butter on the shelves. I never came across a toilet that couldn't handle toilet paper. Even the people: the mannerisms, concept of personal space, respect; all of it fell in line with what I'm starting to miss from home. They do drive on the other side of the road though which is pretty imperative to remember. Frogger goes really wrong when you're looking for traffic in the incorrect direction. Most crosswalks, however, have these handy little reminders that say "Look Left" or "Look Right". I guess I'm not the only traveller who has struggled with remembering this. 

So Dublin, Ireland. Galway, Ireland. Edinburgh, Scotland. And London. That was the line up for the UK. Each had its own personality and all of them had amazing things to offer. Castles, cliffs, and queens. What truly made this leg of the journey different though is that for the first time since I've been in Europe, I wasn't alone. I had someone close to share the experience. Someone to talk to, to eat with, to laugh with. These things suddenly feel so real when you haven't had them in almost three months. I found myself definitely more aware and thankful for the company than I have ever been in the past. It was nice not being the strange American oohing and aahing to herself at whatever breathtaking view captures the day, and it was nice at the end of each day to be able to reflect and decompress with someone who understood the emotions. Traveling is an emotional experience. Understanding new perspectives and new ways of life. Expanding the box that used to contain your mind and life. There is constant changing and growing. I've been able to share a lot of that through my blog, but having someone there to share it personally is an indescribable feeling. The best part, however, was that I got to experience, change, and grow right a long side the woman I admire, look up to, and aspire to have half of her heart: my mom. 

We drank beer and whiskey in Dublin. We took a hike to the Cliffs of Moher where we somehow got off of the trail and ended up jumping fences and streams for two miles until we found the path again. We visited the royal palaces of England and Scotland. We saw Wicked on Broadway. We drank wine. We marched behind the band at the Changing of the Guard and went in every souvenir shop possible :) You're welcome mom. We saw parks, markets, and beaches. So many memorable sights. Some of my favorite times though were when we were just walking, stride for stride, both just taking in everything around us. Our Southern stroll. We came to give it this name one day when we were walking through one of London's many markets and an old lady walking hunched over with a cane sped past us like we were stand still. We both looked at each and just started laughing, but then we started to pay attention. Turns out that it wasn't just a speedy old lady. We were just slow. We were passed by nearly everyone: moms with a kid on each hip, travelers carrying luggage, whole families with young children tagging along. Sometimes we would be conscious of it and attempt to keep pace, but we'd always fall back into the southern saunter. Oh well, we decided. I bet we see a lot more of what's going on around us.  No point in rushing things. Unless of course you're late for a train; then you run. The only times we weren't settled into our steady stride was when we were running to catch some sort of transportation: trains, planes, busses. This happened entirely too often but always ended in out-of-breath laughter, and I don't think we actually missed a single one. The closest, though, we only made by probably 15 seconds. We could see the train sitting at the platform and had about a minute until it left. Whew. We were safe...until our tickets didn't work at the stall. We end up sweet talking the gate attendant to let us through (Nothing wrong with a little charm every now and then :) then I take off sprinting. I leap through one of the train's automatic sliding doors pretty much as they lock and the train starts moving. "Oh, shit! Mom!" I frantically look around only to see her laughing a few cars down. She made it. Such a stud. We tended to attract the most interesting company on trains. The Irish, Scottish, and British tend to be much less agressive than the Greeks and Itailians when it comes to remarks toward women. The kissing and whistling doesn't really happen; however, there's always one in crowd, and we usually found him. We're minding our own business one day on a train when an older man plops down in front of us and proceeds to hit on...my mom! I must say this was a new experience for me, and quite frankly wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Mom had it under control though nicely flashing her ring and essentially telling this guy to screw off in such a graceful way that I'm not sure he even knew what happened. Go mom, right!? Goes to prove that we can always still learn something from our parents. 

You learn a lot about someone when you travel, and a month of it together is a testament to any relationship.  I'm so blessed to have a relationship with my mom that can not only survive this but thrive in it. I'm perhaps more thankful though to have a mom that could put up with me for a month straight because I'll be honest, there have been days over here where I get tired of me. There's just something about the vulnerability of being out your comfort zone, of sleeping in a different place every few days, of never knowing exactly where you're going. It all wears on you over time. What you see is truly what you get when you've carried a 40 lb backpack through 13 cities across Europe, and while I feel like I've developed a pretty good travel sense in that I've managed to get where I need to go, stay safe, not lose anything (except myself a few hundred times), I definitely still have my moments. She probably saw the worst of it, too, because as soon as she arrived, it was like every single guard was let down. "Do you have the key Amanda?"  "Oh..hang on one sec. Let me go get it"  "Did you turn the straightener off?"  "Oops"  "Do you know where you're going?"  "Um.. Yeah not a clue"  Even my immune system.. Only days after her getting here, I came down with some virus that was crazy combination of pink eye, bronchitis, and the flu. It was like my body and brain new that it could chill out for a bit. That someone else was there to look after me and to take care. Who better to do that than mom.

 Life isn't always pretty folks :)

My heart is so full at this point in my journey. I'm so thankful for a best friend in mom who is brave enough to take the jump with me for a while, and a dad who let's both of his girls go while he holds down the fort. Sometimes experiences are less about gaining something new and more about realizing what you already have. 

I'm back on my own now, all guards properly in place, and I'm left to reflect on the one question that I've had since she started planning her trip. Was it different? Was it different sharing this experience with someone else? The answer is absolutely yes. It was very different. When your on your own, you spend a lot of time in your head. It's a time for reflection and thinking and understanding your view points and the way YOU truly feel about circumstances. There's also a sense of confidence that grows when you're on your own, an "I can really do this" feeling. You push yourself past boundaries you thought you had. You learn about yourself: about what you need, about what you like, about what bothers you. You become extremely grateful for the small luxuries that you so often take for granted. Have you ever taken a shower without a towel? Let me tell you, towels are blessings. Being alone has taught me that I am ok.  I am ok with just me as me. I now know that I have this independent fight in me should I ever need it in life.  It's an indescribable feeling of security that I've never fully known. All of that being said, something else the past three months and specifically the past month has taught me is that this world.. It's meant to be shared. Whether it's shared with someone you just met or with someone who's been there since the day you were born, people make places great. Not the other way around. 

One Stranger

I'm really behind in my travel blog. A lot has happened, and I can't wait to share it all with everyone. I actually have another post that I was planning on posting today, but something has touched my heart in a different way today. 

I woke up this morning to the social media posts and news stories on the death of Robin Williams. Let me preface all of this by saying that I'm not a celebrity person. I couldn't pick out most celebrities in a crowd. I don't know the names of the actresses and actors in most of the movies I watch. I don't ogle over People Magazine's sexiest list. Robin Williams the celebrity was honestly not someone I knew a whole lot about. He was in essence a complete stranger as he was to most others reading of his death this morning, but as I was reading all of the news clips, it was a flood of memories and smiles that this stranger had put in my life. I'm pretty sure my family has pictures of my brother and I riding magic carpets as toddlers; Aladdin on in the background. And I know we watched Hook at least two hundred times. Third grade Amanda watched Mrs. Doubtfire with ten other giggly girls on Saturday night sleepovers. Then there was Patch Adams: one of the first movies I can remember crying during. My mom and I curled up on the couch with our box of tissues. Patch Adams was probably the first movie to really make me think. A positive person, a smile, a laugh, a new perspective. They can all change the outlook of a situation. I wanted to be the Patch Adams in the lives of those around me, and I have to say that is still true today. All of these memories that have one man, one stranger, in common; and my social media news feeds remind me that I'm not the only one. A whole nation grieving the loss of this stranger and being thankful for the memories he afforded them. What a legacy to leave. 

And then there's the tragic part of the story. The side of Robin Williams that I'm sure not many people knew. To think of all of the lives he made better. All of the tough times in peoples' lives that were made a tad bit easier because they could laugh through one of his films as a short escape. All of the people who were touched by one his roles in ways that changed them. Like me with Patch Adams. How can someone who made so many people happy be so sad?

What if he just needed a stranger? A kind hand? 

Through all of this today, there are two things that continue to convict my heart: the first is that a stranger can in fact have a positive influence on the lives of others, and the second is that you never know what someone is battling beneath the surface. It all just leaves me feeling like I can give more in my life. 

I've done this thing around the holidays for the past few years. From Thanksgiving to New Years, I do what I call "Random acts of smiles" Don't judge the name. Honestly something I'd never thought I'd share, but once or twice a week during that time I do something that would make me smile. Leave an extra $1.50 in the Coke machine for the next person to use. Pay for the coffees of the next few people in line behind me. Buy McDonalds for the guy sitting bundled on the corner. Drop a small gift card in a random mailbox (actually not sure if that's legal. If not, oops :) I once put on the Salvation Army outfit for a while and gave the volunteer a few dollars for some hot chocolate. That was fun. I don't post these things on Facebook or Instagram. I honestly don't think I've ever told anyone about Amanda's random acts of smiles. It's a very personal thing that I use to keep myself grounded during a time of the year that sometimes feels too materialistic, but the reflection of today has me thinking, "why just the holidays?" I want to touch as many as I can. 

I'm not a celebrity. Lord knows I'm not an actress. The number of people I can directly reach is probably not even 1% of how many people Robin Williams touched, but is any life impacted less revelant than another. One stranger can make a difference. One stranger can start a positive ripple, and the truth is that we can never really know how far that ripple continues.

So why am I telling everyone this now? One person can make a ripple, but what if one of you reading decides to join in? Two? Ten? One hundred? At the end of this year, how many "strangers" will be saying "Remember that time when.." And then they smile. 

How awesome would it be if at the end of our lives, our success was measured not by the size of our estate but by the number of happy memories in which we took part in the lives of those we knew and also in the lives of those we didn't? 

Just something to think about. 

"No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world" - Robin Williams

Fourth of July in Salt Lake City

Wait what? How does that make any logistical, financial, travel sense? How does that make any sense at all? It doesn't. Ha. It truly doesn't, but sense and rationality are irrelevant in matters of the heart. Okay, so who is this, and where is Amanda? Where is the Amanda that plans her days weeks in advance, that hates to pay more than $30 for any article of clothing or anything for that matter, that is rational living defined? There is no way she would change all of her plans, book last minute tickets, and travel half way around the world at the drop of hat...I've changed a lot in the two months I've been over here. Not changed in the way that I'm a different person; I still stand with the same values, same sense of self, same future aspirations, but I've learned to view life as an experience as opposed to a checklist. I've realized things about the life I was living that were keeping me from truly experiencing. I lived a schedule. An impenetrable continuous stream of planned tasks and events. Perhaps I did this out of choice, perhaps out of necessity as life does just get busy, or most likely because I've known nothing else in my life. But I'm living a different life now. A life that is in moment and a life where I am so in tune with what Amanda wants never mind all of the rationalities. After living at both extremes, an extreme schedule and completely in the moment,  I'm not naive to believe the latter is feasible forever. In all honesty it's almost as exhausting as a schedule. I believe that real life falls somewhere in the middle of the two. A balance of priority and spontinaity, of rationality and free spirit. I have found, though, that unwinding 26 years of a tightly wound scheduled mind takes work so I'm using this whole travel opportunity to make myself comfortable with what once would have been so uncomfortable. Allowing myself to learn and enjoy the components of the balanced life I eventually desire. So I did it. I Cancelled all of my accommodation for the next week, and only 40 hours after making the decision, I caught the first bus of the journey to Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. Why Utah? Well you see, there's this guy...

I've mentioned him in a few of my previous blogs. He was my missing Romeo in Venice. The man who manages to steal my heart every time life gives us the opportunity to be together. Life has still not given us that opportunity; he was brought back to Fayetteville three weeks before I left to travel the world. That's been our story for a while. We met a few years ago. Both solidly starting our careers, independent with goals and plans for the future. Life took us down separate paths for a while, and honestly as mid-twenty something's it should have. This notion that "settling" down has to or should happen immediately after college is for the birds. Seriously, it's annoying to hear. I know that I've learned more about what I want, what I don't want, and what I'm capable of giving in a relationship in the past few years than ever before. Most importantly, though, by taking the time to figure out me, To make mistakes, to go on too many awkward first dates, to live as a single professional for a while, I learned to appreciate what is true and to see through all of the romanticized, infatuation games that plague the dating scene these days. Honesty. Trust. Non-negotiatable. I consider myself so lucky to have a man in my life that not only agrees on that with me but also lives it. So even though life decided not to give us that easy opportunity to be together, this time we decided to hang on. 

I made it to Utah after 32 hours of buses, trains, and planes. Let me tell ya, I looked real pretty :/ , but I was met with a large bag of apples, cliff bars, and beef jerky. Yeah, If that's not love... We spent the first few days camping in the Unitas with his family.  Wow.  Beautiful. Breathtaking mountain views. I actually mean breathtaking pretty literally here. Altitude is a crazy game changer in the art of breathing, but nonetheless a great time to just be and enjoy the summer with people I'm growing to care a lot about. Alex and I spent the Fourth at Park City. We took the ski lift up the mountain and raced the alpine slide. He won. I had some technical difficulties that prevented my victory, but I'll give it to him nonetheless. The roller coaster though was great. We rode together which I'm really not sure was allowed. 300 pounds in a tiny cart racing down a mountain. I wish now that I would have purchased the action photo if only for your entertainment. It was great. We ended the night watching the sunset on a trail near his house. Pretty perfect if you ask me. 

  Don't laugh! His idea :) just kidding. Mine. It's cute right?!

As for Crossfit, of course there was Crossfit. I win here :) We didn't go to an actual Crossfit box, but we found the most functional non-Crossfit gym I've ever seen.  Fully outfitted with a Rouge rig, rings, lifting platforms, everything we needed. We mostly made up our own wods. I let him pick a few of the movements. It was good to race someone I knew again. Like coming home. 

Just like all of the places I've been on this journey, the time flew by, and before I knew it, I was boarding the plane to head to my next stop. I had never been to Utah so the adventure here honestly never stopped, and it was another reminder for me that there is so much to experience and explore right in our American backyards. Like I've mentioned time and time before, Europe is just a stage in my life. A ground for learning ways of life I want to carry with me. I'm still absolutely loving my journey, but it was great to be on American soil to celebrate the Fourth. There's just something about the Red, White, and Blue. As for Alex and I, If life doesn't want to give us the opportunity to be together, we'll make our own. He'll be joining me on this journey in a few short weeks. Our own love story. Who knows, maybe Jake Curreri and the 540 worms will be reading our Nicholas Sparks book in a few years. :) I'm just kidding. I don't believe in fairy tales. I believe in reality, and honesty, and trust, and commitment, and work on both sides. But I do know for the first time in my life that when someone is that someone, you'd give anything for them. Perhaps even the world. 

I know I'm a little bit behind on posting. This world traveling and living in the moment stuff takes up some time, but I won't skip anything I promise. Thank you to everyone for reading and for you continuous support. Truly one blessed little lady. Lots of love. 

Inherently Italian

Just over a month in the land of pasta and pizza, and there are some things that appear commonplace in Italy. Here are a few of the things that stood out to me as an American. Things that reveal a way of life different than what I'm use to at home. 

Food... Italian. It's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the States we can have sushi for lunch and Mexican for dinner. Maybe a gyro for a snack. Gelato for dessert. A wide range of options pretty much whenever we're hungry. In Italy, there are still a ton of options, but they are all Italian. How many ways can we make pasta? And protein...protein in Italy is like a salad at McDonalds. It's expensive and you just get weird looks when you ask for it. It's all about the carbs. Carbs and wine. I realized pretty quickly on arriving in Italy that it would be nearly impossible to stick to my fairly selective American diet without sacrificing a large part of the experience (and my budget). Food in Italy is more than just food. It's an experience. Each dish is prepared with detail. I made up my mind early on to embrace that Italian food experience, and I did. For those of you who know my eating habits, be proud. Be very proud. I tried it all as it was on the menu, and I really was never disappointed. Hand made pasta and bread are truly delicious. Not a way of eating that I could continue forever but totally worth every food coma. If nothing else, it made my restaurant ordering experience much simpler. I'm usually the girl, "I'll have the grilled chicken burger, gluten free bun, no mayo, no onion, no tomato, extra chicken and can I swap the fries for a salad with dressing on the side". In Italy,  "spaghetti please". Lots of good times around the dinner table. But seriously, someone please send me some beef jerky. 

 

Smoking... It's like a thing. Everyone does it. Well not everyone, but enough people for me to recognize it as being societal trend. I'm pretty sure in Naples I saw a fire truck racing down the street with sirens blaring, and both firemen in the front cab had cigarettes hanging out the window. Smoke just becomes something of the norm. 

Cat calls... The Italian version of "daaamn girl". In Greece, it was a kissy face sound. In Italy, It's a whistle. In both countries though, it was like some sort of male mating call. One guy would start it and every guy in ear shot would jerk his head until there is this long trail of kissing, whistling men. There is definitely a different culture on objectifying women here. When something like that is said in the US, it's looked down on, and it's definitely not something that spreads like wildfire to all men in range. Guys say what they are thinking here. I have been told that this is a form of flattery, but I was pretty offended by it at first. I'm not typically the full fledge girl power type, but It actually made me angry. As time went on, though, I heard it less. I don't know if that's because I started to blend in a little better or if I just learned to tune it out, but it definitely made me thankful to have respectful men in my life. 

Cities... Everything I've ever heard about Italy has always revolved around the romantized areas of Italy that captivated locals and guests alike in its rustic charm, and there are a lot of those places in Italy that truly take your breath away. However, there were a few places didn't fit the fairy tale picture. I actually found a lot of the main Italian cities to be dirty. Littered with trash and graffiti. I would walk down a street and compare to the cities in the US where we expect a level of cleanliness and customer service pretty much unmatched by any other country, but what price do we pay for that? Americans are viewed as money hungry workhorses, and as an economical society we 100% live up to that. Every, and I mean every European, I spoke with on the topic talked about how they worked 33-38 hour work weeks and enjoyed 6 weeks of vacation a year. I can't speak for every American, but I know the majority of us realize only a fraction of that in our careers. As a society, The Italians have a focus on family and quality of life. We have a primary focus on economic success and security. I'm not convinced that either is better than the other. The fact of the matter is that everything has a cost. We live at a high material and social standard but sacrifice a more relaxed way of life. The Italians live the opposite. I've done a lot of reflecting on this, and I honestly can't decide which one I want more. I want both. Balance. Quality of life and economic stability. Maybe it's a personal decision. Maybe it's up to the individual to decide what is worth sacrificing, or maybe it's our job as the rising generations to challenge the status quo of both and to find the right equilibrium point. 

  

Italy is a special place. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time there, but let the adventures continue. I've made it safely to Spain. 

Life as an Italian

My last post left off in a small Tuscan town just north of Pisa. Lucca, Italy. I spent three full weeks in the splinded city living in small apartment right in the heart of the town. If you're looking for the Italian town that depicts romantized Italy, Lucca is your destination. It's not a city overrun by tourists but one in which the restaurants, gelaterias, churches are very much maintained by the locals. It was easy to feel immersed. A part of the crowd. There was less English spoken here than most other touristy areas of Italy. I can't tell you how many times I was approached with a flash of Italian words, and all I could do was give the dumb American look and with a smile say "no Italiano". Sometimes this meant that we just understood each other through a mutual language barrier. Neither understanding the other's way of speaking, and it was ok. The universal use of English is so often used as a crutch when abroad; and without it being a constant, I actually made some small (very small) headway in my Italian. There is nothing more satisfying than being able to communicate what you need in the native language. 

So twenty-one days in this amazing little city, and I can say that I had the true Italian experience. I lived with a host named Juan Pablo, a native of Chile who has lived in Lucca for nearly thirty years. He rents out three rooms in his antique apartment to travelers stopping through Lucca. With the amount of time I was there, I met some pretty cool people just in the apartment. That revolving door I spoke of before.. Not sure I ever want to live without it now. It has a place and a perspective, but it is special and has already enriched my life in so many ways. 

My first week was spent recovering from the Italian marathon of cities I had run the previous week. I rented a bike which would be my only form of transportation as it is for many of the locals. One of the most appealing trademarks of this town is the 500 year old medieval wall that closes it off from anything other than bicycles and pedestrians. No cars allowed on the main city streets. Although, even without cars, bicycle/pedestrian traffic is still a lot like Frogger especially when the bicycle driver hasn't ridden a bike in probably ten years :/ A wobbly first few days, but by the end of my stay I was the pro swerving the crowd with as many bottles of wine that would fit in the front basket. Anyways, week one was about finding some routine. Mostly good routine: groceries, laundry, gym, showering everyday. Life. There was some routine, however, that came back all to quickly. With constant, reliable wifi I found myself drawn old social networking habits.  Habits from which I had just days before felt so liberated. Browsing Facebook, Instagram, and twitter simply because they were easy to access. I won't lie, there were days in Lucca where I spent a lot of the day on my ipad, and those days are the only days I have regretted thus far. Maybe things feel a little more extreme over here because living life here means seeing and experiencing new things daily, and maybe the regret here is a little stronger than it would be at home. It shouldn't be though. A day lost is a day lost regardless of the life you're living. When I'm consumed in the lives of all of my friends, I'm missing out on the here, now, this of my own life. I've been okay with that for too long. I've deleted all of the social networking apps from my phone, and I'm Focusing on directing my full attention on each day and the people who cross my path in the present. This may be one the most rewarding realizations for me over here, and one that I will carry home with me. Here. Now. This. All of the time. 

The remainder of my time in Lucca was spent exploring. I had the opportunity to hear the Dalai Lama speak in Livorno, Italy. I did the Leaning Tower in Pisa, the Duomo in Florence, and a part of the five city hike in Cinque Terre. I made friends with the bicycle rental guy who would trade my basket-equipped city bike for a road bike, and I went on a few too many bike and wine tours. Biking through the Tuscan hills actually became one of my favorite ways to spend the day. New respect for all of you cyclists out there by the way. My bum stayed sore. I could have used some of those fancy padded pants for sure. I cooked numerous Italian dinners with Pablo and whatever guests were there at the time. I Indulged in the Italian slow food experience several times. Five course meals across a four or five hour span. More of an event than a meal. And of course I worked out :)

 

I found an Italian home at Crossfit Lucca. The gym was about 4 miles from the city walls. My first day in Lucca, I was under the impression that there was a bus that would get me close. I waited for about forty-five minutes at the bus stop. No bus. So what does any crossfitter do.. I took off walking. Not really sure where I was going with the exception of a Google maps screen shot that I had taken before leaving the apartment. I left about 5 pm hoping to make the 6 pm class. I barely made the 8 pm class. One of the great things about crossfitting around Europe is that it definitely gets you off of the beaten tourist path (aka lost, and the people are just phenomenal. Roberto and Carlos are the two trainers at Crossfit Lucca, and they welcomed me with open arms. They actually laughed at me for walking and kindly found me a ride home that first night. The bike made the trip much more feasible and allowed for a scenic twenty minute warm up and cool down every day. There were a lot of great training days in Lucca even though I swear everything is heavier in Kilos, and that surely couldn't be the result of my increased wine consumption :) Regardless, a month and half of traveling so far, and I've been able to maintain a consistent schedule the entire time. Still getting stronger half a world away from my home. There is no other sport that would allow me as a recreational athlete to continue to train while I made this journey. None. Other travelers think I'm crazy, but they don't realize that it's so much more than just working out. It's about friendship and camaraderie. The Crossfit community is real. And it's worldwide. 

The Italian Trifecta

Naples. Rome. Venice. Three Italian cities each with their own culture, own personalities, own uniqueness. Each having a plethora of different things to offer, but all sharing one thing in common. Antiquity and simple, beautiful age. From the countless museums and churches to the quaint cafés and family owned gelaterias, everything has a story to tell.  Every corner is painted with a sense of history, and everyday the modern day public traverse and live in these streets and buildings once utilized by so many historic greats. I actually found it quite challenging to wrap my mind around this concept, but in the moments that I could "feel" it, it was an indescribable feeling of being connected, of understanding, and of appreciating. 

I'll start in Naples. Luckily my first day in the birthplace of pizza was not a precursor to the rest of my time there. My bag dried out, and there was no more rain. Beautiful weather to experience two main highlights of the area: Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. Mount Vesuvius is currently the largest active volcano in Europe and was actually steaming the day I made the climb. I'm not usually a nervous person, but this made me uneasy. Seeing how quickly and devastingly this volcano covered Pompeii in ancient times made it real that at no notice she could show her fury again. A scary thought by any means. Pompeii, the city frozen in time, can still be seen from the apex of the volcano.  As an engineer I found this place to be remarkable. We only think we're ahead of our time. Then there was the pizza. I never exactly knew what I was ordering (Italian might be harder than real maps), but I never went wrong. They have the pizza making mastered. My waiter also informed me that "only Americans share pizzas". I don't know how true that is, but I took his advice. Whole pizza. Embrace it. 

Next was Rome..synonymous with lost. A walking city where ancient cobblestone and modern asphalt mesh together into a sprawling layout impossible to navigate by no other way than trial and error. Or google maps I suppose, but that's one of the conveniences I'm learning to live without. To be honest, I'm starting to appreciate the slight disconnect. Yes, I got lost A LOT in Rome. Wrong turn, wrong street, wrong direction on the right street, all of it. At the beginning, it stressed me out. I felt like I was purely wasting time. Then it dawned on me that I have no timetable. Nowhere to be. I'm not sure there will be many other times in my life that I can say that so I made the decision to enjoy it, and it's been awesome. I've seen some pretty cool things while I've been lost. If someone says it takes 30 min to walk somewhere, I know it'll really take me two hours, and I just go with it. Again, embrace it. The Colosseum and the Sistine Chapel were the two big things for me in Rome. The grandeur of these places truly cannot be described in words. Add them to your bucket list. Rome was also the place that I had my first "this is why I'm doing this" moment. I met Sofia and Ellen one afternoon on a bus to dinner. We were actually all on the wrong bus :) They were a mother and daughter vacationing from Denmark. We ended up bonding over mutual lostness and spent the evening together. Five hours talking about everything from American politics to education to walmart. I learned a lot about them and about life in their country, and I also had the opportunity to share some of the things I love about my home. This is growing. This is becoming. The monuments are great, but it's about the people. I've had many of these opportunities, and traveling alone with no sense of time definitely makes it easier to engage in these spontaneous meetings. However, It's disappointing to think of how many of these chances I've missed at home simply because I was plugged in and focused on my own life. Take the headphones out, talk to the stranger next to you, allow a little bit of spotenaity for them to step in your life for a few hours. It's amazing what you can learn. 

The last of the three.. Venice. Italy's city of romance. It definitely lives up to that name. Beautiful architecture, shops, and restaurants all connected by gondola flooded canals. Even the attitudes of the people were romantic. Every time I went to a restaurant in Venice, the waiter would always ask, "For two?". I just smile, shake my head, and reply "Just one this time." This usually led to free glass of wine or dessert so I was fine with it. Venice for me though was riding in one of those iconic gondolas. Probably the most touristy thing to do in Venice, and I definitely paid for the experience. However, I felt like I was seeing the city how it was meant to be seen: from the water.  My gondolier's name was Pablo, and he's been driving the Venice canals for over fifty years. Even he asked where my Romeo was. I told him the truth. My Romeo is in Arkansas because life never happens how we plan it. We'll be back though, and we'll find you Pablo. Next ride for two. 

As for Crossfit, I have so much to say about Crossfit. Too much for this post. I'll just say that this community continues to amaze me. Crossfit Napoli in Naples and Crossfit Villa Albani in Rome. Welcomed with open arms wherever I am. More to come on this, but I am so thankful for this sport and it's people. Unlike any other. 

I'm pretty sure you could spend weeks in each of these places and not experience them in their entireties. I, like the typical fast-paced American, tried to squeeze them all into a week and half. Second lesson on traveling, SLOW DOWN!! It's not a race Amanda. This is not Italy for time. Seriously. Chill out. I ran myself ragged trying to see everything, and I learned that in actuality seeing more of and truly understanding a few select things leads to a much deeper experience and at the end of the day a much happier, less grouchy Amanda. I'm willing to bet that this concept would also apply directly to most other areas of my life as well, not just traveling. Learning. 

For now though, I'm settled into a small Tuscan town where I have my own space for a few weeks. A place where I don't have to fall asleep to the multi-lingual chatter of a sixteen bed female dorm room or better yet share one shower with those sixteen females. I have a gym that is quickly becoming my Italian home, and I'm Living the slow life for a while. This girl is worn out. 

Life is Still Life

Italy! Of all the destinations on my list, Italy is the one I am most excited about exploring. My first day in Naples, however, was a reminder that life is still life even when rustic Italian buildings and pizza parlors are your backdrop. Bad days still exist. When I arrived at the Napoli airport, it was raining, and the descent of my flight was delayed due to the weather so we just flew around for an extra hour or so. No big deal. It rains in the US. I had left Santorini almost 11 hours before so I was getting a little tired, but the end was in sight. Or so I thought. The plane finally lands, and it's not just raining. It's a torrential downpour.  The planes in Europe don't pull up cozily to the terminal. They park in what looks a bit like a plane parking lot then you exit using the plane's staircase and a bus shuttles you to the terminal. In my case, all this means is that I am soaking wet, drenched from head to toe by the time I make it to the terminal. Unfortunately, my bag doesn't fair much better. I spot it in the myriad of bags and watch it circle around the carrousel. I can tell by the bags around it that it is wet. However, when I pick it up I realize that just wet is an understatement. A puddle forms on the floor below where I'm holding it. The pads in the shoulder straps squish in my hands the way your tennis shoes do after you've spent an hour walking around in the rain. My bag and I together are a drenched hot mess about to walk into a huge Italian city and have no idea where to go. 3.2.1 go!

The directions given to me by the hostel say that there should be a bus stop right outside the airport. They lied. There is no bus stop in sight. I walk a good thirty minutes, in the pouring rain mind you and carrying forty-five pounds of luggage, before I finally spot something that looks like it could resemble a bus stop. I had decided that there was no way I could find a bus that would take me directly to my hostel, but if I could find a bus that got me to a central metro station, I had a better shot of getting where I needed to go. I climb on the next bus that stops and ask "metro?" The driver replies "Si. Eight euro". $12 for a bus ride seems like a lot, but I hand him the coins. I make my way to a seat and look at the ticket the guy just handed me. It CLEARLY says four euro for anywhere in the city. He totally ripped me off! I fight my way up to the front of the bus, point to the ticket, and demand my four euro back. Okay, maybe not demand. I ask nicely, but I am extremely frustrated at this point. He looks at the ticket then stares at me almost astonished. Yeah buddy. You're busted. I know I look like a drenched, frazzled, and confused American right now, but I'm not. Smarter than the average bear. Four euro. Four euro is a glass of wine, and I'm going to need one after today. Hand it over pal. He does and is actually very helpful after that making sure I get off at the right stop and know which metro line to take. 

Finally, I get off the metro at the stop that is supposedly only half a mile from the hostel. I'm suppose to be looking for a bright green door with yellow trim. Number 8. Does this look like that description?

Yeah. I didn't think so either. I walk past it 6 times then stand in front of it for a good five minutes trying to decide if I want to open it. It was the right door and actually opened up to cute little courtyard and a very welcoming hostel. Don't judge a book by it's cover I guess, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared when I opened that little hobbit door for the first time. It's almost 9 pm at this point. I left Santorini at 6 am and landed in Naples almost 4 hours ago. Walking around for four hours in the rain will put a bad taste in anyone's mouth I think. I missed home for probably the first time through this day. I missed being able to throw toilet paper in the toilet. I missed the standard of customer service that we expect and receive in the US. I missed knowing where I was going and being able to communicate effectively if I didn't. I missed things that I have never once been intentionally grateful for at home. Things that I will no longer take for granted. It had stopped raining about the time I was checking in, and I asked the receptionist, "Does it rain a lot in Naples?" He replies, "no.. It actually hasn't rained in almost two months. Just for the past few hours." I laugh. Life always has a way of keeping us grounded. Head up. Heart strong. Tomorrow's a new day. Still lots to explore in Italy. 

Island Life

Next stop.. Santorini. One of the many Greek islands that thrives primarily off of tourism, and after visiting, I can understand why. They are amazing. It's like hitting a slow motion button on life. I traveled from Athens to the island on an eight hour ferry. Not as painful as it sounds. There was plenty of room to spread out, and I met a friend. Lydia. She is a 23 year old student finishing a study abroad program with a few weeks in Greece and would be the one to teach me my first lesson about traveling alone. We spent the evening together in Santorini. We got fish pedicures where you basically stick your feet in a fish tank full of about 200 tiny fish and they proceed to nibble on dead skin until your feet are smooth. Gross right?  I was actually pretty freaked out by it. I enjoyed the experience though, and it worked! Anyways, we had dinner, talked about life, about relationships, about traveling. I got to know her. The waiter kept bringing us free glasses of wine (must be the American charm :), and we just talked. Then I never saw her again. She went her way. I went mine. The revolving door. I've met a lot of interesting people, people from all over the world, but just as soon as I meet them, we're saying goodbye. Such a short period of time to make an impression and learn from each other before life takes us separate ways. To be completely honest, I'm not really sure how I feel about this yet. It is definitely taking some getting use to.

As far as Santorini goes though, the island is beautiful. I spent time at all three beaches. They have two black sand beaches and a red sand beach. I rode a donkey. I hitched a ride on the back of a Vespa scooter (sorry mom. The bus didn't show up). The big thing in santorini, though, is the sunset, and I'm a sunset person so this was on my priority list. I got to the tip of the island about two hours before sunset, found a tucked away spot amid the iconic white and blue buildings, and waited. As sunset drew closer, the people piled in. I felt like a was waiting to watch the fireworks at Disney World to be honest. However, The sky did not disappoint. It was amazing to watch the sun seemingly fall off the edge of the earth. Worth my two hour wait, but honestly nothing that can't be rivaled by a Mississippi or an Arkansas sunset. Remember to look up sometimes. 

Santorini is the one island on my list that does not have a Crossfit gym, but I made the beach my playground. I did Santorini style Murph on the beach of Perissa. 1 mile run, 100 Burpees, 200 push ups, 300 squats, 1 mile run. To my non-Crossfit friends, Murph is a workout done at Crossfit gyms across the US on Memorial Day to honor the men and women who serve our country. I'm glad I got the chance to pay my debts in some way. Proud to be an American and so very thankful for those who serve for my freedom. 

That's it for Greece though. I'm leaving the land of gyros and kabobs and headed for pasta and pizza. Italy is next. 

All Greek to Me

First city in the books. I spent two full days in Athens, Greece, and did the best I could to see all that the city had to offer. With Athens being the first city, I arrived completely exhausted. I left Gulfport, MS at 5 am on Saturday morning and arrived in Athens at 9 am Sunday morning. I hadn't slept. I don't know if it was nerves or excitement, but sleep just wasn't happening. Amazing what you can get accomplished on a 10 hour flight when you don't sleep. Regardless, I strapped on my 37 pound pack and walked into the city. Overwhelming is a good way to describe my first few hours in Greece. Train ride, Greek street signs, euros, and no Google Maps. Stop taking your navigation apps for granted. Real maps are hard. :) I found my hostel and checked into my bed (yes bed. I don't have my own room)..

Not quite Hampton Inn but when you haven't slept In a day, it doesn't really matter. 

Days 2 and 3 were spent walking the city. Ancient Greek monuments, original Olympic stadium, Mount Lycabettus, gyros, kabobs.  The streets of Athens are scattered with small cafés that seem to always have people sitting or dining. This was probably one of my favorite attributes of the city. Although, I learned pretty quickly that eating the way I'm accustomed would either be nearly impossible or extremely expensive. My first night I ordered a diet coke with dinner. When I saw the receipt, I realized that it was 3.50. My first reaction was "$3.50 for a glass of Diet Coke! Holy expensive". I later realized that it was actually 3.50 euro which is the equivalent of about 5 bucks. For a Diet Coke! Wine is cheaper. Let's just say that I was frugal for the rest of my stay. 

I was very impressed by the English spoken in Greece. For the most part, I never went anywhere where there was at least a communicateable level of English being spoken. Most Greeks actually spoke two or three languages. It definitely made me realize how boxed off we are in the US. Add it to the bucket list to become to become proficient in another language. Traffic laws don't really exist here, or at least none that I could observe. Cars, motorcycles, pedestrians going in all different directions share a single one-way road. Crossing the street is seriously like Frogger.  A few close calls, but luckily I survived. The last thing about Greece that I found different, gross actually, is that their plumbing system is not equipped to handle....toilet paper. Yep. Can't throw toilet paper in the toilet. Each bathroom has a small trash can for disposal. 26 years of throwing paper in the toilet, I might have forgotten a few times :/ Sorry Greece for any blockages. 

No city would be complete without a trip to a local Crossfit. Actually all but one city on my list has one. It was in the requirements. I found a gym a bit outside the city: Reebok Crossfit Primal. There was actually very very little English spoken in the gym so the first few minutes were awkward. Trying to relay what I needed through simple words and hand movements. Luckily, "WOD" is universal. At the 3.2.1 though, all of that disappeared. I felt right at home. We spoke the same language through movement. I knew it would be like this, but I never could have imagined the effect it had on me. I was comfortable. I was in a foreign country, knowing not a soul, and I was comfortable. I honestly didn't want to leave. I went back the next day. As I was finishing up the class, I saw a group of athletes warming up. It happened to be a few members of the Greek Olympic Weightlifting team. They were deadlifting so I walked up and said "deadlift?" Luckily "squat", "snatch", "deadlift" are all pretty universal as well. They all smiled and replied "yes, yes". So we did some deadlifting and then a few snatches. One of the members said in broken English, "We never see girl like deadlift".  I laughed a little at the irony. I actually hate deadlifting, but I appreciated the compliment nonetheless. This experience left me so excited to continue to Crossfit around the world. Always a home away from home. 

It's only been a few days, but I'm already struggling to remember what day it is. Time has been measured only by the sunset. So very excited for all to come

For more pictures, follow me on Instagram @amandamdearman.