AnaUnpaused

 After all the drama with our flights—delays, rebookings, and the kind of frustration that makes you question every life decision—we finally made it to Rome . And let me tell you, the second I set foot there, my whole world shifted into a different dimension. The architecture, the towering trees with their elegant canopies, the sheer history embedded in every stone—it was breathtaking. Suddenly, all the flight-related rage evaporated, replaced by pure awe. The Must-See Spots (With a Little History, Because I’m Fancy Like That) We kicked off our adventure with the Colosseum , the grand amphitheater that once hosted gladiator battles, public spectacles, and even mock sea battles. Built between AD 70–80 , it remains one of the most iconic symbols of Imperial Rome. Next up was Palatine Hill , the legendary birthplace of Rome itself. According to myth, this is where Romulus and Remus were raised by a she-wolf, and later, where Rome’s emperors built their lavish palaces. The Trev...

I had one simple mission: go to Italy, eat my weight in pasta, and avoid any unnecessary stress. Ha! Instead, I got an international catastrophe , sprinkled with British Airways incompetence, a missing suitcase, and hormonal chaos that could rival any soap opera. The ETA Debacle: My Brain Betrayed Me Thanks to my sister booking flights through British Airways, I found out that even a layover in the UK requires ETA approval. Fine, fine—I’m a responsible adult, I read all the instructions, checked everything twice, and hit submit. Five minutes later—REJECTED. Cue the stress. Cue the hot flashes. Cue the existential dread. I frantically called British Airways, and they assured me I could redo it. I did—and miraculously, it was approved immediately . Crisis averted! Hormones stabilized! Or so I thought. The Betrayal at Check-In A week before departure, I called British Airways to check for any restrictions on my flight. They said none. Fast-forward to the airport—guess what? There was a ...

The time has come! Tomorrow, my two sisters and I embark on an adventure from Houston to Italy, and let me tell you—my hormones are packing just as much excitement (and chaos) as my suitcase. Hot flashes at the airport? Likely. Mood swings mid-flight? 100%. Asking myself why I packed three sweaters in a moment of delusional optimism? Oh, absolutely. While I’m thrilled for this trip, my heart tugs knowing our youngest sister isn’t joining us. She’s staying behind like the true boss she is, running her amazing meal prep business, Wolf Pack. (Houston folks, check them out on Facebook and Instagram!) And, of course, I’ll miss my own family dearly while I’m gone for two weeks. But I also know this experience is going to be incredible—full of laughter, adventure, and, if my hormones have anything to say about it, a few unexpected emotional rollercoasters. Italy, brace yourself. We're coming in HOT—literally.