STELLA
June 16
I’M GOING TO ITALY!
Okay, I just had to get that off my chest because I still can’t believe it. I’ve wanted to visit for so long, but I kept putting it off because I didn’t want to go for just a week. I wanted to do the whole shebang like Christian said. Venice, Rome, Positano… I never found the time or money, but now, here I am, packing for a month-long trip.
I can’t wait. I’ve already messaged Bridget for a list of her must-sees. I know Christian has visited Italy tons of times before too, but he’s a guy. It’s not the same. (Plus Bridget knows all the cutest cafes and best boutiques).
It does make me a bit uncomfortable that I’m spending so much of his money. I told Jules this the other day, and she told me not to worry about it because Christian has so much money that the amount he’s spent on me is pennies to him. I guess that’s true.
Every time I try to pay for something, he refuses and says I should invest that money into my brand instead. That’s the one thing I drew a line at. I didn’t want him throwing money at the line. If I do it, I want to do it on my own merits. I don’t want to succeed just because I have a rich boyfriend who can bankroll me.
But, if I’m being 100% honest, it’s hard for me to protest too much about the trip because I want it so much.
An all-expenses-paid trip to Italy? That’s every girl’s dream.
Daily Gratitude:
Bucket lists
Italy
The best boyfriend in the world <3
* * *
Italy wasas incredible as I’d imagined. The food, the beauty, the culture…everything lived up to my expectations and more.
Granted, part of that had to do with Christian getting us VIP access everywhere so we could avoid the crowds and explore at our leisure, but it wasn’t just that. There was something magical in the air that melted my stress and turned my worries into distant memories.
Unlike Hawaii, which had a work element despite the dreamy second half of the trip, Italy was pure escapism.
I took videos and photos, but they were for memories more than for social media.
I couldn’t share that I was currently in Italy, anyway, so I’d been posting old photos.
Other than that, there was no work, no cameras, just us.
In Italy, I wasn’t a brand ambassador or a content creator chasing the perfect photo. I was just a girl on vacation with her boyfriend.
It was liberating…when said boyfriend wasn’t being a jerk about my driving skills.
“It’s a Vespa. How hard can it be?” I planted my hands on my hips and leveled Christian with an insulted glare.
“I’m not saying it’s hard. I’m saying there are a lot of pedestrians you can run over in the city.” His mouth twitched at my gasp.
“I am not going to run over anyone. I have zero vehicular deaths on my watch, thank you very much.”
“What about near deaths?”
I didn’t dignify that with a response.
It was our first full day in Rome and our second week in Italy. We’d flown into Milan, made our way down to Florence, and arrived in Rome yesterday evening.
We had a full day of activities ahead of us, and I’d insisted on using Vespas to get around.
It might be cliche, but could one say they’ve visited Rome without riding a Vespa at least once?
Unfortunately, Christian and I had different opinions on how many we should rent. I thought it would be fun if we each had our own while he was convinced I would kill someone if left to my own devices.
Apparently, he wasn’t over the ATV incident in Hawaii. It hadn’t been my fault; I’d merely been rusty. I rarely needed to drive a car in D.C. when the Metro and buses were right there.
He sighed when he saw I wasn’t backing down.
“Let’s compromise. You let me teach you how to operate one, and if you pass the test, you can get your own.”
“What is this, the DMV?” I grumbled, but I agreed.
Secretly, I was glad he’d offered to teach me because I had no clue how to operate a Vespa. It couldn’t be that different from riding a bicycle, right? The only difference was it had an engine.
We’d rented our scooters from our hotel, and we stayed in the courtyard while Christian walked me through the proper procedure.
“Sit straighter and bend your elbows a little…a little more. Like this.” Christian adjusted my position until I sat properly on the Vespa. “Now find your balance by shifting your body to the left and the right.”
I followed his instructions until he declared me ready for the test.
“Don’t look so nervous,” I said as he tightened my helmet. “I’ll be fine. I’m literally driving around the courtyard.”
“Hmm.”
I did not appreciate the amount of skepticism imbued in that one noise.
I switched on the bike and sped off.
See? This wasn’t so bad. I was doing great. The cobblestones were a little hard to navigate, but I could—
“Shit!”
I’d turned too late and sideswiped one of the giant flower pots bordering the hotel’s outdoor cafe.
I stuttered to a stop and cut off the engine while Christian came up beside me.
We stared at the giant crack in the terracotta urn. Luckily, it was so early the cafe hadn’t opened yet, but the gardener working nearby saw the whole thing.
He shook his head. I thought I heard a faint mio Dio before he returned to his pruning duties.
I got off the Vespa and wordlessly handed Christian the keys.
My tiny little Vespa incident aside, our Rome stop went as smoothly as possible until our second to last day, when Christian and I visited one of the city’s top art museums.
I’d been hesitant about putting so many museums on our itinerary since he wasn’t an art fan at all, but he’d insisted we go to as many as I wanted.
We’re in Italy, Butterfly. You can’t visit Italy without visiting its museums.
To his credit, Christian hid his distaste well. If I hadn’t known about his aversion to art beforehand, I would’ve thought he enjoyed the exhibitions.
“There’s no way that is a person.” I stopped in front of a painting that’d caught my eye and tried to parse out what, exactly, it depicted. “Did optical illusions exist in the eighteenth century?”
One second, it looked like a portrait of a nobleman. The next, it looked like a lurid table display of fruit.