Here I am, up at 4am and half asleep, lackadaisically stuffing my clothes into my North Face duffel and dragging my butt out the front door and into my hosts weathered Toyota.
From the moment I stepped off the bus at Termini Station, half asleep and a little disoriented, Rome’s beauty and stature immediately showed.
Ah, Kings Landing.
The funny thing (not to locals) is that ‘Kings Landing’ is now tagged more often across social media than Dubrovnik.
Thank you, Game of Thrones.
It’s been a pretty wild journey up until this point.
From navigating my way through dirt roads with an 80km/h speed limit, getting lost in a landscape so baron that it shouldn’t be possible to get lost in, climbing a pseudo crater, driving through lava fields, being mesmerized by a glacier lagoon and the overwhelming glacier subtly flowing behind it, to experiencing a culture and landscape that is so different to one that I am used to. It had me at an utter loss for words.
In a good way. Actually, probably in the best way possible.