Quite frequently things don’t go the way you want them to and that is perfectly fine.
Sometimes, when I think about our couple of days in Napa, the first thing coming to my head is : bah humbag. Also a series of other words I’d rather not mention. Regardless, it would be bafflingly melodramatic of me to narrate how my trip to Napa was ruined because things didn’t go as expected. The truth is that even though I was bursting into tears every couple of hours or so, Napa was unforgettable for many reasons.
First of all, the bed and breakfast we were staying at resembled what could have been the Mad Hatter’s worst nightmare. The walls were covered with fake and real old pictures, there was dog poo under the piano and the whole house smelled of smoke and grandmother. Our hosts were quite possibly the nicest and most practical people I’ve ever met. To the man who bought me cigarettes when I really needed to blow off some steam: thank you, so much. To that guy who made us a spectacular ceviche and even better sashimi, thanks for getting drunk with us. To the guy who sold me the wine: good move.
Second, walking around Napa feels more like walking and driving around an americanised South of France, I’m not joking. Food is organic, restaurants are nice and there’s nothing else to do aside from drinking wine and enjoying the sun.
Napa was a lesson of strength and survival, I thought I would die and I didn’t. I thought I’d crash and I didn’t.
I loved Napa, that’s when my life changed and I became a LSE student.
Next stop: San Fran.