On June 23rd, I walked into JFK sleepdeprived, running on two hours of sleep and a Pink Slush Alani, and ready to fly far, far away from school and tests. It was a dream of mine, from the ripe age of 5, to go to Italy and take pretty pictures, like my friend Grace had. In March of last year, after much debate, I chose to sign up for Mediterranean Discovery Passport 2025.

I knew exactly one person going into the trip; Abby Israel, who’d been my roommate at our region’s New Member and March Overnight. When we finally landed in Italy, nine hours later, and some random Italian kid sleeping on my shoulder, we immediately hit chaos; Sarah, Abby’s friend, lost her passport and had to sit in a room with airport security until it was found…in her plane seat. Once that disaster ended, we could finally get real food and start the trip.

The first days were a blur in all the best ways: sword fighting at Gladiator, getting yelled at by a security guard at the Colosseum, endless gelato, constant walking, and pizza that, honestly, still isn’t better than New York’s. Then came the bus ride to Florence. According to the trip guide and Google Maps, it was supposed to be three hours, but five hours of Dramamine, Hamilton, Zach Bryan, and 500 Days of Summer; with my friend asleep on my shoulder, we finally arrived.

Florence ended up being four of the best days of my life. I made friends who I now call sisters (and brother, love you Jacob), watched sunsets that didn’t feel real, visited one of the most beautiful synagogues I’ve ever seen, and twisted my ankle while sprinting to Brandy Melville, which, if you know me, is the most on-brand form of tourism. Between that and two (totally valid) crashouts over a hotel room and a sunburn, the next three hour bus ride to Slovenia felt almost routine.

Our days in Slovenia brought even more adventure: rafting down freezing water, wandering Ljubljana (don’t ask me how to pronounce it), taking a boat across Lake Bled, paddleboarding, taking thousands of pictures, and, most importantly, splitting the most life-changing pulled-beef burger on the planet. The people on this trip changed me through meaningful Shabbats, cuddles on the bus, late-night porch talks, debates over sports teams (go Cowboys), and every little moment in between.

When I walked out of JFK on July 11th, I was not the same person who walked in. My suitcase was heavier (except for the brand-new Birkenstocks I accidentally left in Milan, sorry Mom), my camera roll was overflowing, and my heart was full. I’m still the caffeine-dependent, Zach Bryan loving girl I’ve always been, but now I’m more confident, more patient (two weeks with the same people will do that), and more excited for what comes next!

So to Farryn, Dalia, Alana, Abby, Summer, Sophia, Sarah, Julia, Jill, Sadie, Talia, Jacob, Laila, Ivy, Lilly, Ava, Maddy, Maya, Sophie, and Sam: thank you for making this summer completely unreal. I love y'all to Ancient Greece and back.