Ever since moving to Colorado, I have always had an infatuation with the mountains and there is nowhere better to see the mountains than in Boulder. There is something so beautiful about the mountains in every season, they can be magical in the fall with all the leaves turning colors it basically looks like an artist had perfectly painted the leaves to go with mountains. Sometimes in the spring in the summer the mountains are welcoming with the bright colors and the sun shining on the bright green patches of grass. But it is something about the mountains the winter is just mysterious-there is just something about the mountains in the winter that is just asking for them to be adventured.
So when my friends and I had an off day we couldn’t just pass up an opportunity to go to Boulder during the winter and explore.
Boulder has a unique charm and it is not too far from Denver so it became the perfect weekend escape for my friends and me. The first, stop in Boulder was Chautauqua park which is known for the beautiful views of the Flatirons, of course, we had to stop for a photo op seeing how the sun was out and it was absolutely gorgeous out so how could we pass up the opportunity for a good photo. We started our trek up the trail and although the sun was shining and it seemed like it was the perfect day for hiking, there was thick snow layered on the trail, and the farther we got up the trail we started to realize that the snow had turned ice and it was getting quite dangerous. So although we had a ton of falls we also had a ton of good laughs.
Next, we went down to Pearl Street to shop around at some of the cutest little boutiques that boulder has to offer, so many cute independent like Charlie’s T-shirts which has every single Colorado apparel T-shirt that you could possibly ever want, I love bringing my friends who are visiting Boulder for the first time there, and luckily my friend Lucas was with us so he grabbed a couple of long sleeves. The next one we went to is Ellison Rd, such a cute little boutique with all the latest fashions, but they only have three stores in the US and only one in Colorado so whenever I’m in Boulder I have to make sure that I visit it.
But my favorite shop on Pearl Street is a little Bookstore, it’s something about the outside of the building maybe its the big gold letter or maybe it is the teal- but something about this book store makes me travel back in time. I could spend hours and hours in this book store it is really amazing, they have almost every and any book you could possibly think of. Every time I walk into that bookstore I feel like I have been transported to somewhere magical I feel like I can go anywhere there. And they have so many pockets to snuggle up and read a book. Unfortunately for me, my friends aren’t as many book lovers as I am so they were very ready to leave after I found my book.
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We couldn’t end the day without trying one more thing that was new so we ended up driving 5 minutes from Pearl Street to go to a Japanese restaurant that serves sushi burrito-yes you read that right sushi burritos are a real thing. Motomaki the restaurant had so many different options of sushi burritos, it was a little overwhelming because sushi can be hard to pick in the first place but then also you are getting a huge sushi roll the size of a chipotle burrito- well it can just make the decision a little harder. But I took one bite of the shrimp tempura and mouth started to water it was good, and definitely something I would try in the future. Boulder isn’t that far of a trip for me, but I know whenever I go there I will always have a new and exciting experience, the unique city is always giving me a new surprise around every corner.
Autumn is not restless or sharp, it’s a shorter time of year, and it feels like everything is best in Beijing. However, after autumn, we have the first snow in Beijing.
For me, the Forbidden City is the final chapter of the imperial empire, is a long and magnificent dream, so that every time I face it, I will regret being surprised by China’s beauty. The beauty of the Forbidden City is no matter how many times I go, and I can not be exhausted by the vast scroll. You are in the Forbidden City environment, from the bottom of your heart will have a kind of lofty respect, don’t know how many stories have been told here, no place can have such a great color, the buildings are stacked on top of each other. Every part of the Forbidden City is probably stuck in the imprint of time, telling the known or unknown story.
The Forbidden City in the snow is too beautiful. I do not have any other words. The red palace walls and white snow against each other, making the entire Forbidden City look clean and holy. Snow-covered the roof of the palace, paved with the Golden Water Bridge, paved with stone paths, falling on the bronze turtles and cranes in front of the Palace of Supreme Harmony, falling on the roof of the small glazed beasts. For a moment, I felt that the snow in front of me was like some blessing that cleansed human eyes, brought the divine beauty of art, and soothed the heart. Then it melted away again on a sunny afternoon.
It seems that some people’s lives are also like this. People often like to say that as soon as Beijing snows, it becomes Beiping, and as soon as the Forbidden City snows, it becomes the Forbidden City. Before, I always think these two words are nonsense, but after seeing the snow of the Forbidden City, you will understand the meaning of those two words. The snow is like magic that can take us back to the distant past. As we travel through it, we seem to feel or very clearly imagine the dynastic turmoil and love-hate entanglements that once took place here.
Maybe it was the heavy snowfall last night, or perhaps it was the low temperature this morning, but the early morning snow didn’t seem to be melting. By the noon entrance through the three main halls to after six palaces, the snow is still intact to fall on the glazed tiles, whether it is the Yanxi Palace, Shoukang Palace or Canning Palace Royal Garden, everywhere is a white world, a bit like sticking to the biscuit on the cream.
Although the place is inevitably crowded, it can’t spoil one’s enjoyment of the snow. Sometimes, the people in the landscape can be a different kind of terrain.
I am jealous of those who see the snow on their first visit to the Forbidden City because I could see the Forbidden City for the first time, in the snow, after visiting the Forbidden City countless times. Those people who saw the Forbidden City in the snow for the first time, how lucky they should be, and what beautiful memories those snowflakes of the palace will leave them.
Even like me, it has been many times to the Forbidden City. The first time to see the Forbidden City of the snow is still exciting. I described myself as having a go out to see idol mood, is that very excited and nervous mood, think each other is too beautiful. They are not qualified to appreciate the perspective, is with that mood for the first time to see the Forbidden City in the snow.
Over time, as the tourists continue to be more and more, the snow on the ground was gradually trampled to reveal the black or gray stone road, the tree branches of the tree hanging slowly thinning up, the snow does not seem to stay on earth for too long. But until I left the Forbidden City, the Forbidden City was still in a blanket of white snow, the roofs of the six imperial palaces were still pure white, slightly showing a little glazed tile color, yet very beautiful!
This is the first time in my life to see the Forbidden City’s snow. I entered through the noon gate, walked along the east line, passed the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Jiaotai Hall, Baohe Hall, went to the Yanxi Palace, Zhongcui Palace, came to the Royal Garden, from the Royal Garden to the Forbidden City’s west line, and then went to the Changchun Palace, Shoukang Palace, finally returned to the Taihe Palace Square, through the Donghua Gate to leave. In three hours, it was like a dream. The Forbidden City is far from my goal, and I only saw it through the red wall.
I only hope that the next time we meet will not be too far away.
This year, the Forbidden City celebrates its 600th birthday. The world’s largest surviving wooden palace complex has stood firm on Chinese soil for 600 years. The palace is centered around the Noondoor Tower, which is arranged in 18 historical nodes. They introduce the planning, layout, architecture, palace life, and an overview of architectural renovation and conservation of the Forbidden City. In the exhibition hall, behind each exhibit is carrying the Forbidden City’s memory, a brick, a tile, a yarn, and a cup in the display cases, representing the highest skills of Chinese refined traditional culture. Including the Taihe Hall on the spine of the beast and the Emperor Qianlong participated in the design of the Jin Ou Yongguo cup. Now, science and technology still can not completely repair lacquer yarn.
I think another way to see the Forbidden City is to wait for the sun to set over Jingshan Park, which is only ten minutes away from the top. Jingshan Park is located in the center of the north-south axis of Beijing’s inner city, and you can have a panoramic view of the Forbidden City from the Wanchun Pavilion in the middle peak. The most beautiful moment of the sunset, I want to share all the beautiful scenery with you.
The way when you wake up at sunrise, you find your head in the clouds, literally. High up in the mountains the fog is so thick you can barely make out the expression on your neighbor’s face. I was 15 the first time I found myself there. Somewhere in the middle of Kentucky, my heart breaks for the fact that I can’t remember that quaint little town’s name. We slept on the floor of an elementary school, showered in makeshift huts right beside the playground. Showering didn’t quite seem to matter, however, because with that kind of humidity, you were always wet. And hot.
Over the summer of 2017, my university required the entire freshman class to read J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy. The book is toted as an “international bestseller”, telling the stories of class decline in the Appalachian region. To many Americans, the United States is viewed as “the greatest country in the world”. I think Hillbilly Elegywas able to shatter that for many. To my surprise, today, November 11th, 2020 is the release date of the Hillbilly Elegymovie. It seemed that my incoming freshman class at the University of Denver in2 017 despised the book, leaving me to wonder how well the film will do.
I find myself in an odd space. I am a 21-year-old lesbian. I am all things progressive. I have recently come to the conclusion that there is nothing more for me to learn from old, straight, white men– I have already heard their stories. To put it simply, their stories were the only stories I heard throughout my K-12 education. It was not until I got to college that I was introduced to literature of Black women, films by young immigrants, and most critical to my identity, the stories of other queer folks. So, when it comes to the story and struggles of, once again, a straight white man, I roll my eyes in disgust. And perhaps rightfully so—might the stories of the Black and queer folks in the same situation hold a unique perspective, tell stories of struggle much deeper than that of Mr. Vance? Despite all my qualms, I am in love with this story.
In the summer of 2017, I held my university issued copy of Hillbilly Elegy as I drove in a big white van down to Appalachia for what may have been the last time. I had never read a book that told stories of places I had been. Though I despise mission trips now, I was on one. I was traveling with my church to help rebuild the houses—no– trailer homes of the Appalachian residents. I was traveling to meet, stay with and “serve” the same people Vance detailed in his book.
I remember everything about the first man whose home I helped renovate in 2014. His name was Benny. He was an old, frail man. His hands shook while he rolled his tobacco cigarettes. His skeleton like figure was evidence of the cancer eating him away from the inside out. I remember everything about his home, too. A new front porch built by the mission group the week there before us. A kitchen and living room combination, one bedroom just large enough to fit one full sized bed, and a bathroom the size of an average public restroom stall. The house smelled like piss. His two dogs were allowed to relieve themselves freely as he no longer had the energy to let them out. He chatted with us all day while we worked on his home. I adored him, his stories of growing up in the forest, battling through a meth addiction, feeling proud of his children for finding jobs out of their rundown town, despite the fact he despised them for leaving him to rot. I doubt he is alive today.
The following year there was Beulah, the sweetest woman I have ever met. She had three children, one biological daughter, and two foster children of her brothers. She was given custody after her brother’s meth addiction spiraled out of control. The baby of the bunch, and prized only boy, was two years old. His age left me surprised as the toddler acted like an infant. Beulah explained he was behind developmentally because, quite literally, he was fed Mountain Dew out of a bottle for the first year of his life. I think of him often.
On one particularly brutal day of work, I found myself wondering off into the woods of the family’s back yard on a break. Out in the woods, they had their three dogs chained up. I would often walk to them to relieve my own stress. The repetitive work that construction demands can become somewhat meditative, leaving me to mull over the meanings of my life. I was struggling with my faith, I was falling in love with my straight best friend who was working on the house only a few yards away from me, I felt isolated in my feelings and identity. And then, out there in the woods, I turned my head to see that little boy extending out a large branch towards me. He was ushering me to follow him, so I did. He gave me what I assumed was a tour of their expansive yard. He showed me the bugs, some kittens who lived under the foundation of their home. He didn’t say a word to me. Yet, he was the first person I processed all of those heavy feelings with. Today, I often think about the political beliefs he is being raised with that would teach him to hate me, yet, the uninhibited kindness of his childhood was exactly what I needed to begin accept the person I am.
The next summer held a couple with two children. Though the parents were white, and so was their daughter, their son was Black. He was the only Black person I ever saw in my four summers in Appalachia. They didn’t mention his race a single time. There was never an acknowledgement toward the fact that he was perhaps adopted or from a different mother or father. It was hard to distinguish if this was an act of fierce acceptance of their child or a shame so deep that left race unspeakable. Their trailer did tout a confederate flag, after all. Nearly all the homes did.
During this trip, I proved useless for construction work. We had too many hands on deck, leaving many of us to get creative with ways to spend our time. So I spent my week playing with this young Black boy and chatting with his mother. Only two conversations remain with me. The first, with the mother. She spent nearly an hour explaining to me how to be submissive to my husband and how to make a good wife. She brought out her Bible, pages bookmarked to explain to me how Jesus would want me to serve my husband. Though I am a fierce feminist with no intention to marry a man, I smiled and engaged with her. I didn’t know what else to do. All I was there for was the human connection, anyway. The other conversation was at the very end of the week as the mother had to pry the little boy off of me as he begged me not to leave. He didn’t stop crying as our big white van rolled away.
And that’s the fucked-up part of mission trips. You go build these relationships with people who are hurting and then you promptly abandon them. You allow a bunch of teenagers to build a front porch from scratch and then don’t check in to make sure you have actually improved their home and well-being. You put in a week’s worth of work and get to leave feeling all warm and fuzzy, knowing you did something good in Jesus’s name. J. D. Vance will tell you that, despite these silly mission trips and “the work of God”, the lives of Appalachians are not, in fact, improving. Survival comes down to getting out or die trying.
With all this in mind, I still hold dearly to the fact that every person I have ever met there adores Appalachia. Nothing compares growing up in the mountains, free-range chickens and free-range children wandering one of the most gorgeous places on Earth. When that fog rolls in and the sun shines its first morning light, the world looks like it’s on fire. To this day those sunrises are the closest I have come to God.
It is estimated that 3 million people visit Appalachia each year. Not for these sweet people in run down trailer homes, but to hike the Appalachian trail. As I constantly surround myself by outdoor adventurers, I have found that a handful of my friends and colleges share the dream of traveling East to hike the longest known footpath in the world. I believe it’s ironic that these privileged, liberal, white hikers will travel halfway across the country to experience this marvel and not think twice about the people who live there. My friends are not the poor, white, working class, the ex-miners, the Trump lovers of Appalachia. In many ways, they are quite the opposite. Yet, this Appalachian culture has no weight on their decision to travel there. The Appalachian trail seems uniquely positioned for its tourists with its culture contributing zero percent of the draw, leaving the whole hundred to the landscape itself.
And my god are those mountains gorgeous. I understand why my peers long to travel there with no desire to interact with the residents who hate nearly everything we are. Yet, I have fallen deeply in love with so many of those folks. It has been years since I have been to Appalachia and I still don’t have a clue of what to make of this. We are a country so deeply divided, with liberals raised with pure bred golden retrievers and republicans raised on Mountain Dew. However, I suppose the reverse is probably true as well. How will the hikers of the Appalachian trail and the residence of Appalachia find common ground that is not solely geological? Once again, I am clueless, but I hope we do.
Disclaimer: This feature is based on a trip before the Covid-19 Pandemic.
European sailors observed the sport of surfing for the first time in 1769, but historians believe the art of wave-catching dates back to ancient Polynesia. Duke Kahanamoku, a legendary surfer, introduced the sport to the world during the twentieth century and now surfers can be spotted catching waves all over the world. Somehow or another, the sport traveled up to Canada and the hamlet of Tofino became the country’s only surf town. Today, Tofino is a hotspot for North American surfers with a climate that doesn’t always feel that way.
I learned about Tofino while living in British Colombia and I knew I had to check the place out before leaving Canada. I didn’t know how to surf at the time, truth be told I still don’t, but that didn’t stop me from planning a very impulsive trip. Friends joined in, I called in sick, and before we knew it we left the mountains and headed for the beaches.
There is something uniquely fun about traveling long distances without a car. It forces you to engage with the world around you and rely on your problem-solving skills to acquire transportation. With this at heart, my travel companion, Daisy, and I used a smartphone to download a ride-share application to which we hired a ride to Horseshoe Bay. Ok, we kind of wimped out on that one. Coming off our culturally rich car ride, we purchased two tickets for the ferry bound for Vancouver Island. To Daisy’s dismay, I decided to use the remaining ten minutes before the ferry departed to grab a coffee from Tim Hortons across the street. In my opinion, traveling in Canada is not done properly without a visit to the country’s famous coffee chain. I don’t think Daisy shared this sentiment as I quite literally was the last person to get on the boat.
The ferry, which runs daily, is enormous. Three levels of passenger decks sit overhead a massive hanger where cars and trucks await to drive again on solid land. The trip takes about an hour and we spent the entirety of it on the top deck, looking for whales. Whales are spotted often by Vancouverites and an hour-long journey on the Pacific Ocean seemed to be our best bet to catch a glimpse of these sea mammals. Sadly, no whales felt like breaching that day.
View from the top deck of the Ferry
At around 4 pm, we docked at the small port city of Nanaimo and made our way to the hostel. Nanaimo is a hard-working city that has its fair share of quirks and family-owned shops. We spent our evening at the waterfront, continuing our search for whales.
The next morning, we planned to make our way to Tofino. With our backpacks on, we walked straight to the nearest rental car service and forked over some cash. There is something uniquely fun about traveling long distances with a car. You have the freedom to go anywhere and do anything that you please. On this particular three-hour drive from Nanaimo to Tofino, we did just that.
We found ourselves stopping every thirty minutes or so to experience the beauty that Vancouver Island has to offer. Waterfalls and streams run alongside the highway, beckoning us to pull over and explore. Massive Douglas Fir trees surround the road, as Vancouver Island is part of the Pacific Coast Forest, the densest forest in the world. We had to make a stop at The Cathedral Grove, a provincial park with trees measuring as tall as 240 feet.
Me standing inside a Douglas Fir Tree
It took us more than three hours to get to Tofino, but the drive had turned out to be the best part of the adventure thus far. We stopped in the nearby town of Ucluelet and reunited with some old friends who decided to move there for the summer. Ucluelet is a gorgeous town situated right on the shoreline. The housing is sparse, so our friends would spend the entire summer living out of their tent. We could understand why, like many others, our friends sacrificed their comfort to live in such a breathtaking place.
View of the Ocean in Ucluelet
Following in their footsteps, we set up camp right on a beach in Tofino. I highly recommend staying at Bella Pacifica campground for an amazing experience. A trip to the local brewery quickly put us to bed and we dozed off to the thought of riding big waves.
On par with being in a rainforest, the clouds above Tofino sent us some freezing rain in the morning. I began to question how we were going to stay warm in the water. The surf pros had a solution that came in the form of 5mm thick wetsuits with hoods and booties. Covered head to toe in thick neoprene, Daisy and I carried our surfboards down to Cox Bay. Before heading into the waves, Daisy tried to give me a few pointers on the beach. I practiced “popping up” onto my board while lying on the sand. It was definitely going to be a challenge in the water.
It seemed like I was the only person on the beach who did not know how to surf. The cold water helps discourage the crowd of eager tourists. I was shocked to learn that the winter season in Tofino brings the best waves, a phenomenon that benefits those most committed to the sport. Eager to join the ranks of wave riding individuals, I made my way into the water. I immediately forgot everything Daisy taught me as I got blasted by saltwater. I would be lying if I wasn’t cold or in pain, but the beauty of the whole experience made me forget about all those things. For three hours I practiced standing on the board. The training I did with Daisy on the sand began to come back to me and on the final wave of the day, I stood up!
Retiring back to the campsite after a long day of surfing, I couldn’t have been happier with my decision to embark on this impulsive trip. The beauty of Canada is incomparable and being able to experience it with friends far from home is beyond special. I didn’t do much planning for this adventure but it sure had plans in store for me and my friends. I think that is the best way to travel. Your trip to Tofino may look and sound a lot different than mine, but I can assure you it will come with some gorgeous views and unforgettable surprises.
And, hopefully, you’ll spot some whales for me and Daisy.
Me, Daisy, and some friends enjoying the evening on the beach
Covid-19 has helped New Mexico do a number on the local businesses that line the downtown portions of Central Avenue. Nob Hill Albuquerque, preserving some of the original motel inns and neon signs that have lined this road since it was known as Route 66, the most bustling highway in America, has said goodbye to some chefs, jewelry makers, and artists that have made the area their second home for over 30, 40, even 50 years.
In 2016, a bus line known as A.R.T. (Albuquerque Rapid Transit) was signed off by the city council to be built along Central, despite many local protests. This project was an expensive re-design of the entire street which made it extremely difficult to reach the businesses of downtown by car for an extended period of time. The project saw delays, as the electric bus the city had wanted turned out to be over budget. Those two years of lowered traffic compounded with a global pandemic in an impoverished part of town, resulted in a death sentence for many nob hill traditions.
All of that being said, the circumstances have resulted in the addition of some new members to the Nob Hill area, that have reignited the spark of downtown for the younger generation. For example, Pink Rhino: the upscale thrift store designed with bright pop-art style colors, asymmetrical wall art and ballroom-worthy chandeliers. My personal favorite however, is the game center gone coffee shop, Empire Board Game Library.
When this charming business first opened, the walls of the building were stark white. Many buildings in Nob Hill give business to local street artists by allowing them to paint original murals on their blank stucco. So eventually Empire was gifted with a garden of pink and blue daisies and red roses, as the culture of the area would seem to demand. I was there only a week after it had opened, thanks to my friends introducing it to me a few years ago.
It was after a long week in late November, with finals on the horizon. I remember being extremely stressed. I had fallen behind in some work because of trying to balance college applications with my regular class work. Applying for music college starts months earlier than even early decision applications, because of a multi-tiered audition process. It begins with the recording of a video audition as a preliminary, moving up to tests in music theory and aural skills and finally a regimen of traveling to different schools for live auditions in front of a panel. I was overwhelmed with pressure.
To try and help me out, my friends wanted to show me a new place on Central they found. We piled into my 8-seater Toyota, parked on the hill around the south corner, and walked through the front door to hear the silver bell chime against the black doorframe. The founder of Empire toured us through the layout of the building.
Inside, all four walls have floor to ceiling bookshelves. Except instead of books, they’re adorned with boxes of board games. And instead of by the Dewey Decimal System, or alphabetical order, they’re organized by age range, category, level of difficulty, number of players and length of gameplay. On the back wall is a coffee bar. In the display case to the left of the cash register, homemade pastries like large peanut butter chocolate bars, cheesecake, cookies, donuts and coffee cake are a few of the many mouth-watering sweets I can never resist.
Once we were all seated, I ordered a maple bar and a fire and ice espresso shot: “espresso layered on top of vanilla and cream that burns like dragon fire and cools like winter frost!”
My favorite category of board game is strategy and a favorite of mine we played that night is called Splendor. In the game you’re a miner trying to gather the most rare gems before your opponents. Rubies, Sapphires, Emeralds, Diamonds and Onyx are organized in a hierarchy, as you gradually build up wealth. There’s a multitude of ways to approach the game; the long way, trying to accumulate enough wealth to buy the rarest gems at one time, or monopolizing on the less rare to try and scare others into believing you’re ahead of them early in the game, leading them to abandon their strategy and try to catch up. There is a way to strike a balance between these but it isn’t always simple to pull off. The art behind the game is stunning and though it takes a lot of thought, it’s relaxing to play. Before we knew it, we’d played three rounds and two hours had passed.
I didn’t even have to be good at the game. The joy came from getting closer to my friends as I tried to predict their next moves; feeling my stress simmer down as the top layer of my espresso upped my competitive fire, and the vanilla cream bottom layer frosted over and calmed my stress. The smell of the aged wood bookshelves and the sounds of soft music, air pressure on the board game lids releasing, cards being shuffled, fanned and dealt, my best friend’s laughs, the laughs of strangers at surrounding round tables and the texture of the pristine gameplay board, all married together to create an environment that truly felt like home. I had just entered this building for the first time, yet I felt like I’d known the building for years.
After checking out that day I felt mentally refreshed. I went home and immediately got to work on a college essay I’d been putting off. The friends I went to Empire with are the friends from high school I’ve remained closest with in college. Whenever I introduce Splendor or any of our other favorites to new people, I think of them.
In one visit, you can explore the ever changing game stock, purchase games for yourself, stimulate your senses with a fire and ice shot, or relax your palette with a London Fog or Matcha Latte. Whether it’s a date, a late night out with friends, or a Sunday brunch, Empire has always struck a perfect balance between laughable moments, competitive fun, a relaxing environment, good food, skilled baristas, and affordable prices.
I recommend bringing a water bottle if you visit. They only sell bottled water but they do have a water fountain. Whether you need to beat the New Mexico heat by finding an indoor activity after a walk around the plaza, hike in the Jemez, or bike tour around the park, want to find something different for your or your family member’s birthday party, or get up to the “trendy” new businesses of Nob Hill, I’ve never had a bad experience at the Empire Board Game Library.
I’m someone who never wants my knowledge of how people make their way through the world to stagnate. So I’ll keep studying psychology, philosophy, writing, and music, as my outlets to understand them better, and hopefully travel to get my chance to meet them. Then maybe, we might get to change just a little bit of each other’s lives.
The best thing to me about Sacramento, California has always been how easy it to leave. Something I have never been quite able to get out of my head was the motto for the regional girl scout chapter, “Girl Scouts Heart of Central California”. As a kid it seemed to be the center of the universe, everywhere you could possibly want to go you could go from there.
I spent my childhood summers leaving with my family. Sometimes, we would go north to the snow-capped domes of the southern Cascades, and dewy, green stream fed meadows crisscrossed with fallen trees in various stages of decay. Other times we would go west to rocky beaches, and foggy redwood forests, or else south to valleys and deserts and forests, or east to rocky wilderness and the crystal-clear waters of lakes barely visible one end to the other. In the winter, we would visit winter wonderlands of steep slopes and bright blue skies, or sunny SoCal beaches. But always, at the end of our adventures we would return to Sacramento, a tree filled city in the middle of an agricultural desert, a small jagged skyline rising out of dust. We would drive home across flooded fields, on bridges over sluggish, murky waters. Off fast speeding, crowded freeways onto slow, tree lines streets, houses with bright paint, white trim, and tall stairways, or chipped paint and a dusty leaning porch.
So, in my youthful world view, Sacramento became the heart. Not the best thing, not the only thing, but the point from whence everything came, and everything went.
Though the rivers that had once swept down the gold that Sacramento had sprung up around are now good for only the transportation of boats, and the endless sediment and pollution that the Sacramento and the American rivers pick up before they converge near downtown; it sometimes seems like they create one massive swirling eddy, a strong low pressure system, right in the center of the Central Valley where everything settles. There is no place in Sacramento where this seems truer than the delta.
12:30 am on a Christmas eve somewhere, myself and an old friend find ourselves in a car, driving nowhere in particular. We were talking about love and friendship, and sex and drugs and everything else, and how much we had changed since we last had seen each other. We took a right turn on a levee road heading west, into the delta, where every waterway in Central California converges and splits apart and merges until everything empties out into the San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. We thought no more of it than anyone else would think of a right turn, but after driving straight for some time we found ourselves passing the same road we had turned off. Somehow, we had gone in a circle.
And, at the intersection of hope and despair, I like to think that everyone chooses hope, so instead of turning back the way we had come, and going home, and going to bed, as all good children should on Christmas eve, we kept driving- determined to escape. Escape what, I don’t know, but we kept driving, headlights in the fog, the river on the left, the river on the left, blasting The Doors, river on the left, until we were back again at our favorite intersection. Spirits determined, we traveled onward. On and on, down sideroads that led immediately back onto the main road, swerving potholes and rabbits that dashed in front of the car, and then back again at the place where it all began.
Eventually, we determined that the only way we would ever escape was to cross the river on a ferry. So, after entertaining the late-night ferry man with our sleep deprived lack of critical thinking skills, we were off into the deep black something of 3am highways, through foggy farmland warped and distorted by the occasional streetlight.
After driving for some time, we drove onto the old western main street of Dixon, California, strung up with Christmas lights, and a two-story evergreen tree lit up and decorated in a park. We parked, got out of the car, and went to take very cryptic pictures of ourselves standing in the branches.
There’s this quote by Joan Didion, “Anybody who talks about California hedonism has never spent a Christmas in Sacramento.” Having split many of my childhood Christmases between Sacramento and Los Angeles, I have no idea what she is talking about. What I will say, is that Joan Didion clearly did not spend any Christmases with the two of us.
After our photo shoot with the giant Christmas tree, with a sense of misdirection I can only attribute to being high on life and a sky full of stars, we found ourselves climbing the fence of an under construction high school, peering through boarded up windows and jumping over muddy trenches. We ice skated on frozen bleachers and sprinted across empty fields in the dark till we tripped over shadows. Eventually we meandered back in the direction we came, and found a swing set and swung until the ground no longer seemed to lie flat underneath us. As a final hurrah, we hopped the fence to a public swimming pool and dove in naked for just a moment, until the icy water chilled the blood, and we ran back to my car.
As the sunrise painted the sky a rainbow, we drove back on the interstate over bridges and rivers towards Sacramento, two blood cells returning to the chest, blue and shivering. I have found over and over again, that in a city built on the rushing currents of rivers, and highways, and the deposits of everything that comes to rest along their banks, that the delta always seems to abridge that- sweeping everything and anything out to sea, filled with aimless meandering channels where there were once fast straight currents and four lanes of traffic.
When I was eight years old, I traveled to Mexico for the first time ever. This trip was unexpected; my grandfather had passed away in the middle of the night and my mother decided to travel to Mexico to lay him to rest. This trip was one of the hardest things to ever happen to me. I fell asleep in my room, ready to go to school the next day, but instead, I awoke at the U.S.-Mexico border. For me, this memory was filled with loss and sadness. From one day to the next, I could no longer see my family, my friend, and everything I ever knew. Now, I was in an unknown country, seeing the only father figure I ever had, laying in a coffin.
For an eight-year-old, this was very hard to understand. I didn’t know why something like this had happened. This made the first memory of Mexico leave a sour taste in my mouth. After this day, things only seemed to worsen. I learned that my mother could not return to the U.S. and I didn’t understand why, all I knew was that the country I was currently in took everything I loved from me.
Adjusting to this new life was hard. I had to learn many new things, and it was very overwhelming. I remember being so angry that I had to be in Mexico, all I wanted was to go back home and see my family again. However, this was not possible. I had a lot of hatred for this place, but in reality, I only hated what being there meant. Now, almost thirteen years later, I realize how wrong I was. I eventually understood that no place was at fault for the memories associated with it. It took a lot of growing and understanding to get to that point, but I’m so glad I did. I have mentioned before what a special place Mexico has in my heart now. For me, it’s important to realize that it wasn’t always like that. I had to learn to appreciate this place and what it had to offer.
I started loving Mexico when I started making memories there.
In Mexico, I met some cousins for the first time. One day, or whatever reason, we thought it would be a great idea to leave our grandfather’s ranch and walk to the lake. No adult noticed we were gone, and we were only supposed to walk to the lake and back. Everything changed when we took a wrong turn and couldn’t figure out how to come back. Looking back at it, it probably wouldn’t have been hard to follow the river back. My cousins and I sat on some rocks for what felt like hours (although my uncle swears it was only 30 minutes) before anyone could find us. We told jokes as we listened to the beautiful sounds of nature and the nearby river. Finally, we saw my uncle’s truck pulling up in the distance. We were being saved! I ran trying to get to his truck first, but I slipped and fell in a giant mud puddle. I was so embarrassed and almost started crying, but then my cousins all sat on the mud with me and we laughed it off. I’m sure our moms did not appreciate us being covered in mud, but the memory will last longer than those jeans ever did.
Around the same time, my aunt invited us over to her ranch and I was fascinated with all the animals there. I had never seen real life farm animals before! When we saw the sheep, my mom’s friend convinced me to get on one. I don’t know why I agreed, but the next thing I knew I was holding on to a sheep for dear life. I remember being so scared, but at the same time, I felt so brave. I remember how hard it was to hold on, and how with every step the sheep took I was scared I was going to fall. At that moment, I felt as if I was the coolest little girl out there. I had never known any other kid who had ridden a sheep before! This moment was such a special one, especially considering that I had grown up in a city. It was moments like this that made me realize I had a new life.
Sometimes, on an off day, my mind would be flooded with negative memories. But then, I’d be able to go to a baseball game after a rainy day. Or I’d go to the plaza and eat Mexican style corn on the cob. Sometimes, sitting in front of the chimney, drinking hot cocoa was enough. Regardless, everything I did always helped the hurt go away.
Mexico is filled with so many great memories. Eventually, the positive overpowered the negative ones. This experience taught me that you can’t let your initial experiences ruin a place. Sometimes places are filled with negative experiences, but it is up to an individual to replace those memories with good ones and choose to create new ones. Creating better memories won’t make you forget the rest. They will, however, have the chance to change your perspective on something.
Personally, all the amazing memories I made replaced all the anger and fear I felt in Mexico. This helped me come to terms with my new normal, and it eventually helped Mexico become one of my favorite places ever. The joy I felt playing with my cousins, or doing crazy things slowly started making my life better. It was never about what led me there, it was about what kept me there. I am currently 20 years old, and every year I look forward to returning to the place where memories are made.
If I leave you today with one message, let it be this: Never let bad memories ruin a place for you. Instead, create your own memories, and if you’d like, go to Mexico and tell me what memories you end up with. Whether you end up getting lost, riding a sheep, or just relaxing, I can promise you you’ll return with a million joy-filled moments.
No matter how far or where you travel, a new exploration awaits. For me, it was a little less than two hours away in a place called McCall, Idaho. When COVID hit and was spreading fast, my family and I questioned if we were able to still take our yearly summer trip up to McCall. We decided to still go and mindfully keep our distance from crowds of people and hot spots in town. McCall offers so many things from boating, hiking, skiing, and so many other outdoors activities. My family and I stayed the week in our time-share cabin. It was our last trip together before me and my brother had to head back to school. We brought my dog Max along as he loves hiking and finding hidden lakes to jump in the water. A trip to McCall allows us to spend time together as a family and enjoy living in such a beautiful state.
The town itself is mainly centered around Payette Lake as cabins line every shore as well as hotels. Docks are stretched into the water filled with boats and jet skis. Restaurants and stores are in walking distance from the shores and the beauty of the town is indescribable. When taking the boat out for my family, our dog usually doesn’t come along so its just the four of us. Usually when we decide on taking the boat out, it becomes our entire day. Wakeboarding, kneeboarding, and swimming are just some of the activities me and my brother do. My parents relax and around halfway through the day we shore the boat on the north end of the lake, right on the beach. My mom sets up a make-your-own sandwich station and we enjoy our lunch together on the beach in the warm sun. Later in the afternoon, as our skin is feeling the bright sun’s effects, we decide it’s time to pack up and head back to the cabin. Days on the water with my family are my favorite as I get to relax in the sun and take in the lake’s beauty.
Payette Lake
My parents have owned a ski boat since I was born and to this day every summer we take it out on the lake. But when we head to McCall, it’s the one time a year we are presented with the opportunity to rent jet skis. Jet skiing is a different kind of high especially when your full throttling towards the wake of another boat trying to catch some air. My and my brother are always excited when coming to McCall because we are able to rent the jet skis.We spent all day, and I mean all day, out on the lake until my jet ski was almost out of gas. Driving around on the lake, you feel so careless and free with the wind blowing past your face. It’s truly exhilarating.
Boating on Payette Lake
Hiking through the mountains of McCall, Idaho is one of the greatest ways to capture its full effect with the beauty of the nature that surrounds it. There are so many trails just surrounding the town and even more in the mountains with trails of all levels. I recommend grabbing a local trail map and researching which are right and your desired skill level. For a more of a beginner and family oriented hike, the trails around Payette Lake are the best option while still containing stunning views. This was one of the many trails my family and I embarked on and we decided to bring my dog Max along too. I’ve personally hiked this trail the most and it will never get old.
My dog Max
Towards the end of our trip, my mom had to drive back home a couple days early for work and took our dog, but my dad, brother, and I stayed an extra day. We decided to explore one last trailhead before the reality of going back to school and dealing with a global pandemic set in. It was one last exciting adventure to share for the summer. We researched a more difficult hike than the previous but also wanted one with a view. Leaving at 8 a.m. and driving around 30 minutes straight towards the mountain led us to Lake Louie and its trailhead. In order to actually make it to the lake and see the water, we were in for a treat. By “treat” I mean a solid uphill climb, with boulders sticking out and not another human in sight. We had to stop many times before we reached the lake as we were all drenched in sweat and chugging water. I didn’t think the climb was ever going to end, until around an hour later, we finally made it. It was so worth it as the lake was so clear and clean. A few fly fisherman lined the lake, but if you stood and stopped to take a breath, it was silent. You could hear just pure nature and your heavy breathing. We continued to hike around the lake until we reached a rock that stuck out across the water. We decided to eat our lunch in peace and took in the beauty that surrounded us.
Lake Louie
This last summer adventure before the virus picked up was nothing short of perfect. It was the best way to end the season and in the company of my family and dog made it so much better. It was also the last adventure that I was able to experience with my dog Max as he would pass away a month later. It was end for many things like having to be sequestered in my house for months, but it also brought new beginnings. Heading back to school and entering another year of life. Every summer, my family ends with our trip to McCall and it brings me peace in doing so. Traveling with people you love while exploring and experiencing new places and things is something truly special.
After a long summer of doing a whole lot of nothing due to Covid-19 restrictions, my friends and I decided that it was our duty to do something fun before classes resumed in the fall. After careful deliberation, it was decided that we would do a three day fishing trip somewhere within driving distance of Denver, Colorado. The only question was where. I promised the group that I would do some research and figure out which areas might give us what we were looking for. While our main goal was to catch a ton of fish, we also wanted to find a place that would offer beautiful scenery. I took to Google checking everything from local fishing reports, to U.S. water data, and even old blog posts to get a sense of what areas might be fishing at that time. Before long, I had devised a plan that I felt would give everyone involved the best experience possible. I had read about a stretch of the North Platte River near Alcova, Wyoming a while back referred to as “the Miracle Mile” for its beautiful landscape and fat aggressive trout. Recent fishing, and weather reports all pointed to ideal conditions for our slotted three days. Once everyone was on board, we began making preparations for our three day journey.
With our gear ready and enough food for the three days at the Miracle Mile, we set out for Wyoming. We made sure to stop in Alcova, which was the only civilization within 40 miles of our destination. There we sought advice on bugs and tactics from the local fly shop, and got some last minute supplies and firewood from the general store. It is important to be sure that you have every bit of gear you might need when venturing 40 miles out of cell reception. That includes, but is not limited to, a tent, sleeping bag/pad, food, water, firewood, lighter, toilet paper, and plenty of beer. As I watched the small smidge of a town fade into the rearview, I felt a sense of freedom take over the car. It was not long before the cracked pavement crumbled into dirt roads. We saw more wildlife than people on the drive to ‘the Mile’, as the fly shop owner called it. In fact, we did not see any people at all. Herds of mule deer and pronghorns danced over the hills as our trucks left a trail of dust billowing behind us. After about an hour of driving we finally saw the emerald blue river appear out of the plains, as if by magic.
This section of the North Platte River weaves through desert, prairie, and canyons giving way to some of the most breathtaking scenery you are likely to find anywhere in the U.S.. With dispersed camping allowed on both sides of this entire stretch of river, we explored a bit before setting up along a grassy bank with a pre-made fire pit overlooking some prime dry fly water. We began to hastily set up camp, as all of us were eager to get out and fish. Before we could even get a tent up, someone had spotted a rising fish and began setting up their rod. Camp set up would have to wait until later as the rest of us began to follow suite. The Miracle Mile offers anglers a plethora of different types of water to fish with very little angling pressure. While we set up camp along a slow and slick run, the Mile also holds long riffles, large boulder fields, and plunge pools 20 feet deep. Paradise to any fly fisher looking to cover multiple water types in a single day.
The view from our campsite.
With only a few hours of daylight to fish and set up camp, we decided to fish within walking distance of camp on day one. It did not take long before all of us were into fish. Browns, rainbows, and cutbows were all eagerly taking large hopper flies and streamers. Even some of the beginners on the trip were having no trouble finding fish. We found that most fish were holding along undercut grassy banks similar to the one where we had set up camp. As we began trickling back into camp, it was clear by the smiles on our faces that we had all found success. The bright orange sun sank behind the hills as we finished setting up, revealing a sky full of stars unlike anything I had ever seen before. It seemed like every time I looked up from the fire I would see multiple shooting stars. We sat around the fire deep into the night drinking cheap beer and filling our bellies with hot dogs. Each of us slept well knowing that we had two more days in heaven.
The largest fish all trip came on the first day.
We awoke early the next morning as the sun cleared the mountains, illuminating the valley. It was not hard to get out of bed knowing what the day had in store for us. With bacon and eggs sizzling over the fire, we made a plan for where we would fish that day. We decided on a stretch of river just a short drive from our campsite where the river drops into a canyon and is lined with tall granite walls. We traversed our way down into the canyon and it did not take long before we were into the fish once again. It seemed like there was an amazing pool stacked with fish behind every boulder and bend. That day we decided that we would “live off the land” and cook some fish for lunch, as was permitted on this stretch of river. We kept a few eating sized rainbows, about 12 inches each. Once we had the trout dispatched and cleaned, we added some salt, pepper, and lemon juice before wrapping them in tinfoil and throwing them directly into the fire. As we sat on the riverbank cooking our catch, I took a moment to take in the unbelievable scenery. It also did not hurt that we had the entire canyon to ourselves. We each enjoyed our fish before heading out to find the afternoon bite. In the afternoon we ventured deep into the canyon where the walls became extremely narrow. Soon we forgot all about the fish and focused on exploring the canyon. We found some amazing rock structures, and even a place to cliff jump. When we were sitting around the fire at camp later that night, I found myself feeling incredibly lucky. This day had definitely been the highlight of the trip.
Where we spent day #2.
Due to some late night campfire activity, we slept in the next day. When we awoke, we all agreed that we wanted to stay close to camp and relax. Some of the group walked downriver to see how the fishing was while the rest of us decided to do some exploring in our cars. We had stumbled upon an old off-roading trail on our way back to camp the previous day and were keen to see where it might lead us. We had made it about a mile down the trail before we saw another campsite. As we drove by a man came out to great us. To all of our surprise he told us that he had been living out there since the Covid-19 pandemic began in America. I was amazed to hear that we were the first ones to come down the trail since he had set up camp months before. It is true that you never know what you might find when you go out and explore. I can’t blame him for wanting to wait this whole thing out in such a beautiful place. While sitting around the fire on the final night, I could not help but feel a bit sad to be leaving in the morning. Not only had we found amazing fishing, but also a break from reality in a time that is putting everyone to the test. I woke up early the next morning to watch the sunrise before folding up my tent and packing the cars for our return home. The glassy river reflected the peach sky in a truly spectacular way. As we drove away and I watched the river disappear behind the rolling hills, as the realization set in that we were heading back to reality.
For most, traveling is a relief from reality. It is a time when they can escape the 9-5 grind, imagine a new life, and consider never returning to their homes so they can pursue their newly discovered dream of owning a llama farm…
For me, traveling has a different connotation. Don’t get me wrong, I love fantasizing about alternate universes and imagining myself surrounded by fluffy alpacas! It’s just that the actual process of traveling is a bit stressful and hectic for me, beyond the scope of the average tourist. Being physically disabled leads to facing a lot of inaccessibility in the world, and at the end of the day, sometimes it’s simply easier to stay home and scroll through the Louvre’s online exhibits rather than actually coordinating an international trip.
So, when it was the end of my junior year of high school and it was time to make the “big decision,” I was stuck. I felt that I deserved a world full of potential, after all I worked hard for the past 4 years to earn that 4.2 GPA, and I thought that my potential was farther away than my local university. I did some research and somehow convinced myself that these big schools only existed in warm states – specifically California. Sure, weather had a big impact (after all, you think driving a car in snow is hard, try a wheelchair) but I also wanted to be somewhere where things happened and I would have endless opportunities.
My parents tried to steer me a bit closer to home, but after I kept persisting, they agreed and took me on a road trip across the country to visit my “dream” schools. First up: Berkeley and Stanford, California!
We stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, but not without checking for accessibility! When booking the trip, my mom had to go the extra mile beyond visiting TripAdvisor. After finding the hotels in the areas we would be, she had to call them individually during times when the front desk staff are at their best (she said that’s somewhere in the early afternoon – after check-out and before check-in). She then proceeded to check that the shower was a roll-in (a lot of hotels advertise this, but once you get there, there is often a bump about an inch tall that is difficult to overcome), asked about the beds’ height (necessary to safely transfer me from my wheelchair to the bed), and asked if there were any rooms without carpet (tile or hardwood is preferred for the wheelchair and my other equipment). After all that was said and done, she usually had to speak directly with housekeeping to confirm everything the front desk promised. Then, she was finally able to book the room, and she made sure they price matched whatever TripAdvisor advertised.
The hotel itself was everything you’d expect from a well-established chain like Holiday Inn, but the area itself was a bit concerning when we first arrived. The streets are very busy, which makes it difficult to turn into the hotel. There were also a few people lingering around outside and near the hotel, which made us nervous, so we took all of our belongings inside with us.
We didn’t do a real tour for either Berkeley or Stanford, rather, we chose to wander on our own schedule to see and discover what the beautiful campuses had to offer. I visited both universities’ disability services, to compare what they had to offer and to “test the waters” on how accommodating they could be. Berkeley had a promising start, as their counselor was disabled himself and told me how he got around independently on campus. He also explained how they have a partnership with their med school, so if one of my nurses called out, they would send someone to temporarily help me. Stanford also supplied a lot of resource options, the biggest being their campus shuttle system. They said I could tell the driver my weekly schedule, and they would drive me across the 12.8 square-mile campus! My own personal limo? It was very tempting!
Me embracing the sunny Stanford weather, July 2018
From there, we went down to Los Angeles to visit UCLA, USC, and Whittier College. We stayed at the Doubletree Los Angeles. My mom had to ask the same questions, and they guaranteed that they met all of our requirements. Yes, they had a fully roll-in shower and part of the room had tile instead of carpet, but the beds were not tall enough. We immediately called the front desk, worried that we would have to change hotels, but they sent up maintenance to take a look. It turns out, they’ve had this issue before as they accommodate guests, and they had a solution! They brought up 4 blocks of wood, and drilled them into the legs of my bed, which made it tall enough for me to be safely transferred. We were surprised at their cooperation and willingness, but the process did take a while and we weren’t able to get settled or relaxed for an additional hour and a half while they worked.
We spent the next few days visiting the schools, and I was overwhelmed at times, and felt an uncomfortable amount of familiarity at others. We toured UCLA and USC back-to-back, and it was exhausting. I didn’t have time to visit their disability services, as we were booked solid. The universities themselves were amazing, but the tours felt like a stimulus overload with all the people and the marketing schemes. The next day or so, we visited the small university of Whittier College. With an undergraduate population of 1,776 students, this university was smaller than my high school. I wasn’t against a small school, I just wanted to feel that they wanted me and cared about my education. And, oh, did they! I booked a one-on-one meeting with the head of the English department, and after our official meeting ended, he insisted on taking me on a personalized tour of the school. It was a short trip, but at least I knew they cared!
Me enjoying even more sunshine at Whittier College, July of 2018
This entire trip to California would have been incomplete without a quick respite at the Happiest Place on Earth – Disneyland! We stayed at the Grand Californian hotel resort, that way we could exit the hotel right at Downtown Disney and begin our adventures. The room was fine, but the layout of the bathroom made a few things tricky, but we made do. After all, we were in Disney, so who cares about a few technical difficulties? Downtown Disney was alive with music, light displays, and vendors – and that was all before we made it to the actual parks! We wandered around California Adventure and Disneyland, and most of my wandering entailed sight-seeing. There are a few rides that are marked as “accessible,” but they often ask the person to get out of their wheelchairs. I was able to enjoy quite a few rides, such as It’s A Small World, The Little Mermaid, and Winnie the Pooh. Even though those rides are a bit more childish, I enjoyed every twist and turn the tracks took. The best part of the trip was when I rode the Ferris Wheel in their summertime exclusive park Pixar Pier. It was the first time I had ever ridden a Ferris Wheel, so I took a few spins! In between rides we bought way too many Mickey-themed goodies, and enjoyed a beautiful fireworks display. From there, we were scheduled to head home… with another detour. It was time to go to my parents’ Disneyland – Vegas!
The first Ferris Wheel I had ever been on, July of 2018
We stayed at the Bellagio hotel, and it was honestly the most accessible place I had been in that entire 2-week trip. The beds were adjustable in height, had a massager, and the head and feet could all raise with the push of a button! They had a ceiling lift, which went from the bedroom to the bathroom, even over the tub and toilet. The shower was level with the floor, which meant that there was no lip or bump whatsoever. And, it was Vegas, so it all felt very luxurious! My mom and I had a spa day where we got our nails done, and then we all dressed up to go see the acrobatic performance of Cirque du Soleil’s Bellagio-exclusive show “O.” We enjoyed our time, as we made sure to try all the crazy foods and we went through a lot of interactive exhibits. We visited the Wax Museum and took pictures with all our favorite celebrities’ statues, and stopped at a restaurant with a fitting name – The Sugar Factory. We didn’t bother with real food, we were there for the sweets! We each got our own tower of milkshake, and after I ate the s’more topper, I felt that familiar sugar buzz. So, we took things a little slower after that. After a few more days, it was time to head home!
Me attempting to drink this giant milkshake, July of 2018
The trip itself took a lot out of me, so I spent about 3 days straight in my bed recovering from all the highs. Then, it was game time. By the time it was college application season, I had already ruled out Berkeley and Whittier. Berkeley was just a little too weird, and it’s located on top of a steep hill which made things tricky. Whittier was simply too small, I wanted to leave my high school to meet new people, and I didn’t think that would be as easy at Whittier. But, I knew that I still wanted a chance at Stanford, UCLA, and USC to see what my potential was. That trip gave me the momentum needed to head into my senior year ready to tackle those applications to see what opportunities I had.
So, while most people take trips to escape reality, my most recent trip was to find my reality. Even though I chose a school in Colorado, that trip helped show me my true potential, and gave me a boost in confidence that pushed me through the remainder of my high school experience. Traveling still isn’t the easiest thing for me, and planes are a completely different story. Which is ironic, since my mom is planning a Disney World trip for us at the end of 2021, which will definitely require a plane ride. But who knows, maybe I’ll discover a little more about myself then?
Hey! I’m Zoe, a second year English major with a concentration in creative writing. I love reading and writing (but I guess that’s probably a bit obvious, huh) and I enjoy watching Netflix and hanging out with my English Bulldog, Huggsy. I’m really excited to be a part of this class and I’m looking forward to working with all of you!
