With its bombastic people, rich history, and great culture, it’s no surprise that Boston is a city with a lot of personality. My introduction to the place was during a blizzard in ‘13, which was, coincidentally, my spring break senior year of college.
Venice is one of my favorite cities in the world, which is a claim about as cliche as saying Paris is the city of love. With its canal streets, thousands of bridges, and mask shops at every corner, it may be hard to imagine a Venice that’s unique.
For someone born in the ‘90s, I somehow missed the Harry Potter train until my sophomore year of college. I blame it on my childhood hipster taste in books. But my late start hasn’t derailed the number of Harry Potter sights I’ve visited. If I, a rather mediocre fan, feel a fluttering of nerdiness at these places, I can guarantee they will reduce the True Fans to Tears of Fandom.
The first time I went to England, my itinerary had a very distinct theme: Jane Austen. I have interested in Jane Austen since I was 13, and a hardcore fan since I was 16. I’ve read all her books at least once, and most of them upwards of six times. To me, Jane Austen is a Big Deal.
I’ve previously written about my accidental stay in a Barcelona party hostel. In sum: I’m the queen of introverts, the Darcy of parties, and on my first visit to a hostel I wound up in a rumpus party center. But I was more interested in touring during the day than living it up at night. Besides, true to my high school nickname of “The Sleep Tsar,” I value sleep. A lot.