{"collectionById":{"859e5dfb-9b3a-4249-8524-6185e3d8bfb6":{"id":"859e5dfb-9b3a-4249-8524-6185e3d8bfb6","name":"Entries","fieldSchemas":[{"id":"db5ccb44-6dd8-4011-9e2a-6aaab0b33b6e","name":"Title","type":"plain_text","role":"primary"},{"id":"5d22c5d4-b974-443e-9518-ad3e3da2ba12","name":"City, Country","type":"plain_text"},{"id":"a561bf03-e11e-4e43-aa03-c62f7af73885","name":"Image (thumbnail)","type":"image"},{"id":"a83d3d2e-1b78-4a5e-867b-8e62fa66f832","name":"Image (header)","type":"image"},{"id":"ab00433d-5394-43ee-8ee4-8b0512b30dbf","name":"Intro blurb","type":"plain_text"},{"id":"00449c27-1efa-4bb3-9353-c21da267e1f3","name":"Content","type":"rich_text"},{"id":"03a6e4a5-764b-4d18-be70-87587b560a70","name":"Date published","type":"date"},{"id":"2428f2a5-0bf8-4df5-b59b-42b93ddc5b79","name":"Slug","type":"slug","role":"slug"},{"id":"d11b5501-a3d1-4d8a-873b-4393f83b9b44","name":"Abbrev. Date","type":"plain_text"}],"itemById":{"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670":{"id":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","index":"\"","collectionId":"859e5dfb-9b3a-4249-8524-6185e3d8bfb6","fields":[{"id":"f5e6a904-b6f0-42b0-ac4e-6deb663fd7ef","value":"When I was 16, my cousin, Hannah, and I made a promise to each other (we bought promise necklaces and everything): that the summer after I graduated high school and she graduated college, we’d go on a full-fledged European tour together for three glorious months. Our necklaces had charms of the Eiffel Tower on them and I wore mine to work at a local shop that sold bath and body products, where I scrapped and scraped and saved every penny that I earned to fund our trip. The shop was owned by a woman who drank red wine in the back room during the day and whose husband was French, from France (a detail that intrigued me) — his name was Pierre.","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"ab00433d-5394-43ee-8ee4-8b0512b30dbf"},{"id":"de88ccec-42c5-4eb4-816a-256ba4e82cdd","value":"{\"image\":\"33da53669f0ac1ecfeb0da04f2b116bf46c10221\",\"imageThumbnail\":\"9b678ac7e287b20b50d3253ce8dad1f3f0beb501\",\"originalImageHeight\":2448,\"originalImageWidth\":2448,\"altText\":\"\",\"fileName\":\"photo 4 (2).JPG\"}","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"a83d3d2e-1b78-4a5e-867b-8e62fa66f832"},{"id":"a6f0d4ad-1952-4de3-8fb8-ffd9bcbdae30","value":"2026-09-14","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"03a6e4a5-764b-4d18-be70-87587b560a70"},{"id":"978c2aeb-247c-4dcb-8fd9-c54eefeb2f05","value":"...To Travel Is To Live","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"db5ccb44-6dd8-4011-9e2a-6aaab0b33b6e"},{"id":"ea4fcf8a-4983-42cc-8f92-8013932e6457","value":"{\"image\":\"686a19025125e877709dfe27081a55b37d75446a\",\"imageThumbnail\":\"0642767ad1302d3358b39f54aaf7b3dc0fb870b5\",\"originalImageHeight\":2448,\"originalImageWidth\":3264,\"altText\":\"\",\"fileName\":\"photo 4 (1).JPG\"}","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"a561bf03-e11e-4e43-aa03-c62f7af73885"},{"id":"ed0ff29d-482a-498c-83cd-a321adf03268","value":"to-travel-is-to-live","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"2428f2a5-0bf8-4df5-b59b-42b93ddc5b79"},{"id":"4150a858-d90c-42c1-a6eb-09a3444b00c2","value":"At Home in Colorado","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"5d22c5d4-b974-443e-9518-ad3e3da2ba12"},{"id":"e25fcf4d-73b7-4f71-8392-7d817eb7db81","value":"Sept 2026","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"d11b5501-a3d1-4d8a-873b-4393f83b9b44"},{"id":"b97a26ae-ba10-4c85-ace6-8419d82a5bd3","value":"{\"root\":{\"children\":[{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"For Christmas my senior year, my mom got me an ornament that looked like a slice of fancy cheese, and it was to remind me that every time I ordered a glass of water on a coffee date with a friend or passed by a pair of new shoes (probably TOMS) that turned my head, it was in order to save up for the dessert platter of cheese after my meal in Paris, or a picnic at Hever Castle in England. I remember so vividly sweeping the basement floor of that little shop, fueled by the glittering anticipation of train rides and foreign delicacies, huge and historic cities with cobblestone streets and the sound of different languages…it was divine to hope, to anticipate, to dream. It colored my life in the loveliest way. \",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"And, along with everybody else in 2014, Hannah and I each started a blog to document our escapades and to give our moms a thrill while we were away. Mine was unfortunately and irrevocably deleted shortly after the trip (I’m certain it would provide many giggles and some excellent fodder), and the only thing I can find are some low-res photos and an iPhone note that I forwarded myself — a list of places to write about when I got home, I think:\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"type\":\"image\",\"version\":1,\"hash\":\"d3189d3ff867e8f715c5510eaceecdf6ba66684f\",\"src\":\"https://s3-alpha-sig.figma.com/img/d318/9d3f/f867e8f715c5510eaceecdf6ba66684f?Expires=1789948800\u0026Key-Pair-Id=APKAQ4GOSFWCW27IBOMQ\u0026Signature=qDpq6jzxSSZ-gyJBWU48VzEO5O5J853dfokt4VjxfLXh5vGBz7j8VdbNpaIxGPytIpnIUi0LOK68sbKEpmVrSXXq~id~gPdl1ZZbfYaqsbQpbndMGkbTdnerYsbQqeCo-mbgWaKRgORSewHIptyCz~0nJlMYNiIbH74vHm25qb8yVmd4jZWtCXqwyRoQsOGElwU950wscRNjWZQ~1xaNFV1rvShGRESQxZAxZuFphZPRhigpK74bPSDLfohd26uDqaJUEkADfUT2VwS0OlWcSGc~XwTdhiu9gVX8ikXSIPOLymQul~QwvTZcfv8eIWfbQJIiBpODRj4HJzkDeILWUw__\",\"altText\":\"\",\"originalImageWidth\":989,\"originalImageHeight\":893,\"isFillWidth\":false}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"Reading the list of now-familiar places catapults me back into those warm and sparkling memories of adventure and frustration and hope and excitement, of elation and heartbreak and self-discovery. Of arguing and laughing hysterically with my cousin, of finding the end of myself and being scared of that, of leaping outside of my comfort zone and finding wonderful new realities and possibilities, of narrowly escaping danger and of stumbling, enraptured, into impossibly lucky scenarios. Of slicing apricots from the tree at the farmhouse in Provence for apéro and the sound of Scottish ceilidh music and Chloé’s gateaux chocolat. That backpacking trip around Europe as an eager and naive eighteen year old shaped me immeasurably. Those places came home with me and gave me definition, smoothed some of my rough edges and sharpened others. I learned things on those train rides and in those huge and historic cities that I carry with me still. \",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"Hans Christian Anderson wrote of travel:\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1},{\"type\":\"linebreak\",\"version\":1},{\"type\":\"linebreak\",\"version\":1},{\"detail\":0,\"format\":3,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"“To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":3,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"To gain all while you give,\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":3,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":3,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"To roam the roads of lands remote,\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":3,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":3,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"To travel is to live.”\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"left\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":3,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"And this poem has been rattling around in my brain for months. I certainly believe that there is more to life than travel — much more, of course. But, for me, travel is an opportunity to gain a unique perspective, to learn about myself and my place in this grand and beautiful and terrible world, to come to the end of myself and to have the courage and the hope to keep going. Experiencing other cultures and daring to venture past the confines of my comfort zone teaches me to be more open to different perspectives from mine, to the varied and complex stories of the souls that people this planet, and essentially, to love more fully. \",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"Almost a year ago, I brought a beautiful baby girl into the world after carrying her for nine long months. Understandably, my world was flipped upside down and shaken about and I am seeing everything in a new light. It feels as though everything is in question again. Some of those questions sound like Who am I? What makes me me? (And there are many others.) One thing that I’ve come back to is, for me, the importance of travel in my life. And what it teaches me about being home. \",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":0,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"So here I am, twelve years later. Starting another blog to document my travels. To capture the sense of wonder, to chronicle my experiences and the lessons I’m learning along the way. Thank you for bearing witness to my vulnerability. I hope to charm you with entertaining anecdotes from faraway lands, to encourage you with recollections of beauty and love, and to inspire you to get out there yourself. Further up and further in!\",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"paragraph\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":0,\"textStyle\":\"\"},{\"children\":[{\"detail\":0,\"format\":2,\"mode\":\"normal\",\"style\":\"\",\"text\":\"If I may, I’d like to dedicate this journal to a few of the women in my life that have inspired my sense of adventure, that have fanned the flame of my dreaming and hoping, and that have roamed the roads of lands remote alongside me: my mother, Kelly; my auntie Charlotte; my cousin, Hannah; and my daughter, Jo. \",\"type\":\"text\",\"version\":1}],\"direction\":null,\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"heading\",\"version\":1,\"tag\":\"h6\"}],\"direction\":\"ltr\",\"format\":\"\",\"indent\":0,\"type\":\"root\",\"version\":1,\"textFormat\":2}}","itemId":"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670","fieldSchemaId":"00449c27-1efa-4bb3-9353-c21da267e1f3"}]}}}},"slugByItemId":{"37c2732a-2c4a-4541-8e54-6b12d0e90670":"to-travel-is-to-live"}}