Mom & Dad: Thanks for worrying.

Travelaurita, travels

Parents. We’ve all got them. Somewhere.

I’m lucky enough to have mine by my side…daily. Either in person, on the phone, or digitally by my side via the incredible FaceTime, my parents are always there.

It wasn’t always like this. 2009 changed everything. There was a time before then when complete freedom was still possible. And I don’t mean to say that I would’ve enjoyed isolating myself from my family. In fact, I’m the one doing most of the calling these days.  I’m just talking about the days when I could stop by McDonald’s for an ice cream cone, without the fear of being fat-shamed by accidentally sharing my location with millions (okay, I don’t have even a million social media friends, but just roll with it). Life before 2009 allowed me to go to the movies with friends, chill in my parked car for an hour, or go on a solo run without having to report it to the world. I never had to explain my actions to anyone. My choices were mine. Until October 6th of that same year.

The air was crisp and refreshing as I walked along the lake convincing my friend’s that I was once a hair stylist. The conversations continued and revolved around my friend’s birthday bash later that evening. As per the birthday boy’s wish, we stayed in and danced all-too-embarrassingly to David Guetta’s “When Love takes over” before moving on to Christina Stürmer, a lesser known, but just as important karaoke go-to.

I was one slice of cake and one cup of strawberry wine in when I suddenly get abruptly interrupted by my roommate. She had been sick all week and much preferred her violin over David Guetta. You could tell she had unwillingly dragged herself down to the party, which she had no interest in attending. It was 11pm on a Friday and she was already in PJ’s – I mean come on! She walked straight toward me and with the fewest words possible told me that the phone had been ringing non-stop for the past hour and a half -it was for me. Remember, this was still 2009 I didn’t even have a cell phone, I’d barely signed up for a Facebook, and the only form of communication between my family and me was an alarmingly-red, ten-pound corded phone in my room.  Fritz, my childhood dog or my grandparents must have passed. That was the only reason for calling so persistently at that hour.

I run back up to my room, give them a call and my mom’s crying and my dad is furious. I could hear it in their voices from miles away. I knew in that moment that I was in trouble. The dog was fine and so were my grandparents. My mind went a million per hour trying to remember my every move for the past 24-48 hours. Blank. Did I forget someone’s birthday? No. Had I left some unfinished prank when I left a few months prior? Couldn’t be. Did I unknowingly spend too much on my debit card? Not unless each bread roll from the bakery across the street was worth 500 Euros.

I was lost. First year away from home and of course this happens! Why did my parents suggest I take a gap year and travel to Europe by myself. I was definitely out and up to no good, when suddenly I lose control of my own body. I can’t formulate a single word in any language, I can barely walk straight, and everyone and everything turned into blurry blobs. I had been drugged. I ended up in the middle of the forest lost and in danger. Until I was picked up and dragged by an older, disgustingly muscular man, who didn’t even sigh a single word. Surely he was Eastern-European working for one of those Mafia Kings, who was to take me straight to the King himself to assess me as a prostitute. High-end or low-end. I was new in the game – definitely high-end. There was no way for anyone to find me. Heck, nobody was looking for me. Except for my parents that is, but they were too late. They were 7 hours behind and an entire ocean away! Headlines began appearing: “Search for American Teenager Abroad: hope to find alive.”

That’s the story that had been running through my parent’s mind while I was in the kitchen attempting to sing ‘happy birthday’ in 7 different languages. From that day forward I learned to call my parents at the very least once daily – forever losing the freedom of having an entire day to myself.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Sharing Pillows

“Chaz! What are you doing? Get off!” 

It’s Sunday morning. It’s way too early for this, but after a few minutes I open my eyes and get on with my day. It’s an unusual Sunday morning. The leaves outside are crunchy and falling at a whirlwind pace. The streets are oddly calm, and Chaz is there.

Chaz isn’t always there. He comes and goes. It’s a weird thing we’ve got going. I love him, I do, but on days like today he was getting on my very last nerve. This was the bit of Chaz that I didn’t necessarily care for – his persistency. Chaz has a one-track mind, so he always gets what he wants.

Chaz came into my life in unexpectedly. I met Chaz through a mutual friend, but even this was a bit odd. You see, Chaz and my friend had this thing going on. He would stay at her place and she at his.  One day she left town. I had met Chaz a few times prior, and there was an instant connection. I enjoyed his company and I was pretty sure he enjoyed mine. So when my friend left the country for an unknown amount of time, she called me.

“Laura, you should reach out. I’m leaving and I know how you two hit it off.” 

Soon thereafter, I received a call, and Chaz would be spending the weekend at my place. The first few times, he slept on the couch, while I kept the bed to myself. A few weeks in, he began slipping into bed with me. He was quite sneaky at first, but eventually we were sharing pillows. I didn’t mind. I loved the company. I had been feeling quite lonely in months prior, so having Chaz around just seemed kind of perfect.

Today though, I was tired. I wanted to sleep in, but Chaz just had to wake me – at 6:30 a.m. He wanted to go on a walk one last time before heading home. Surely this doesn’t explain the strange weather, or the ongoing twitch in my right eye, but it would be fitting.

As I sit here writing, Chaz continues to nudge my hand with his nose, his eyes locked on mine. I’m sad he’s leaving, but he’ll come back. Surely it will be as soon as next weekend, when his owner goes on another business trip, and I am called to pet-sit the best dog a girl could pet-sit.

Tying the knot, Travelaurita

Today’s the day. Not just any day, but the day.

Today is the BIG day

But it doesn’t start here, so let’s take it back.

Stage one: Thoughts and ideas

Every tiny detail is planned out in your mind. The big day has to go according to plan. This stage is easy, there’s no stress involved. Here is where you run wild with your ideas. You spend hours, or even days (heck sometimes it can be months) imagining nothing less than the extravagant experience it could be!

Stage two: Let the lists begin

Now is when the pen touches the paper and the never-ending to-do list begins

  • The venue– will this be an indoor or an outdoor event? What’s the weather going to be like? Will there be beautiful scenery or is this about the main event and not the scenery?
  • The music – will you have a set playlist or risk it and leave it on shuffle? Upbeat and grooving or soulful and touching? What if there’s no music, that could be neat, right?
  • Invitees – is it a time to be celebrated and surrounded by supporters or did you want to keep it quite personal?
  • Oh! And the shoes! – where to even start? You want them to be perfectly tailored to fit your style but you also don’t want blisters on the big day. So which is it? Cute or comfortable? Is there such a shoe that does both?

Stage three – Self-reflection

But how could you be getting cold feet? This relationship was built from ground zero and continues to grow and become stronger as time passes. You’ve gotten through the good, the bad, and the ugly. There were those few times, when you got so mad that you just wanted to call it quits. But you haven’t. People called you crazy for being in a relationship. But who cares about them, you’re about to do the one thing that brings you absolute happiness!

But the time is coming up, and you undoubtedly begin questioning everything.

  • Is this it?
  • Am I really doing this?
  • What if I instantly regret it?
  • Is this the life that I want to be living?
  • Am I ready for this long-term relationship?
  • What if I get hurt?
  • There’s no going back now, I’ve already spend too much time and money picking out the perfect shoes, and music, and venue, and , and, and…

Suddenly it’s seconds before you tie the knot, and you’re trembling. Sweat starts rolling down your face just thinking about it, but you push yourself to do it anyway.

You tie the knot… twice.

Now your shoes are tied and the commitment had been made.

Every run turns any day into the big day, and just like that, you’re in a life-long relationship with running.

A cup (or three) of Wine


Hey hey hey!

It’s Laura. After many years, I have found interest I my long lost blog. Silly enough, in the search of this (what-I thought-was-the-world’s-greatest-and-only-Berlin-blog) I was somehow only able to login to my long-forgotten Freshman year blog. Man, I know that previous sentence was a big no-no in the English language but it was what it was, and there is no going back .

So to explain this long-lost blog: my Freshman year of college I was in a German culture class.My class consisted of four young girls and an older, laid-back professor. Laid back, because as he would have us recite our homework, he would quite literally hold his hands together, lean back in his chair, and try his hardest to not close his eyes.

Anyway, this professor of ours had us create and keep up with a blog – auf Deutsch! It was a great way for us to write and keep up with and practice our German without the worry of it being a graded paper. As long as we did it, we got points.

So, to circle this long story back to its origin. I have had several blogs in the past years and have been really bad about keeping up with any of them (there’s a third I did with a …friend… that I’m not ready to share with you).

Maybe, hopefully, being able to login to this one will motivate me to continue writing.

Thanks for ready and remember to ALWAYS forget your passwords (they may bring you nostalgic pasts).

And a big thanks for the inspiration of writing again !

Oh and the title? Just an explanation to this terrible writing with no grammar checks and zero point.

Fischbach 10k


During the last months in high school all seniors proudly wore their new college colors, while I wore a smile from ear to ear. Nobody quite understood why I would possibly take a year off and travel to learn a new language. It was unheard of and unfortunately for most, looked down upon, but I couldn’t care less. I was going overseas to surround myself with a new culture, language, and to meet new people and I couldn’t be more excited to dive into the unknown.