Ciao, Bella.

The last time we roamed the streets of Florence together, we were 22 years old. Fresh out of college, convinced we were invincible. JD and I wanted to travel a bit after graduation, so we packed our bags and set out to backpack throughout Europe with my sister. The Eurorail, hostels, and backpacks. After the first night of the trip, I called my dad crying and told him the hostels were worse than I could have ever imagined. And the backpacks? They're heavy.

Then my dad got started about backpacks. If you ever see my father in public, please do yourself a favor and don't bring up backpacks. He'll have no sympathy for you. In fact, he'll likely make you pick up an extra backpack from a stranger and carry it for her. In the rain, uphill, both ways. THAT'S WHAT VIETNAM WILL DO TO YOU.

Anyway, Florence…post graduation. We stayed one night in a hostel then decided to change our plans and live it up while we were out there (no more hostel lockers and communal showers!) because who knew if we'd ever go back. We stayed in pansiones, ate with locals, and consumed astonishing amounts of gelato. Eight years later, I'm happy to say we're going back. Together.

We'll be out of the country until October 8th, shooting a wedding in Virginia on October 10th, and will be back in the office October 13th. I won't be responding to email, so please forgive the correspondence delay. I'll still be blogging and taking pictures…and, no…there will be no mention of backpacks.

Here's a scan of a picture of us in Spain in 2002…sometimes I still can't believe after all these years JD still likes me. I'm pretty sure this picture was taken the same day I complained for four hours straight about the heat, sang songs in Spanish, and pretended I was the ambassador to Papua New Guinea.