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Villa Anouk, Essaouira, Morocco review

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Ciao! I’m on my annual family trip in Tuscany. ⁣Yesterday we drove for two hours to a tiny coastal town in Liguria, on the edge of Cinque Terre. We got here just before the sunset - I bought gelato at one of the galeterias in the port, and sat amongst the boats to watch the sky turn dark. I strolled through the town just as the sun hid behind the colourful buildings and walked towards Torre Di Venere which sits on the very edge of Portovenere, where the houses get replaced by the ruins surrounding Chiesa San Pietro. ⁣
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There’s laundry hanging in the windows and fresh pesto sold in the shops, all those little postcard-like moments that remind you you’re in Liguria. One of the stone walls surrounding the church opens up to the sea, and if you’re lucky and get there just at the right time, you’ll get to see tiny clouds speckled across the pink sky, and listen to the sound of the waves, and watch the coastline ahead of you, winding its way to Cinque Terre, then Monaco and France. ⁣
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And if, like me, you love finding a bit of magic in everything you see, you’ll sit there quietly and watch it all unwind in front of you till the sky gets completely dark, your heart full and happy at just how beautiful our world is. ⁣

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Being happy is easy - just open your eyes and notice the magic ✨

c a p t u r e d b y @veerabianca

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It’s cold and rainy in Stockholm today. I’m sat on the floor packing for Tuscany - my old home, all those years ago - and I keep thinking about the warm, late summer days in Stockholm when the sun would hang low but keep you warm just enough so you could get away with wearing a dress, and perhaps throwing a little picnic party. ⁣
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This spot is at the Easternmost tip of Djurgården, on the edge of the archipelago - perfect for people and boat watching. But my favourite picnic spot has got to be on top of Observatorielunded, where you can look over the entire Vasastan. There’s a cafe serving waffles on top of the hill, so you don’t even have to worry about bringing food! Vitabergsparken in Södermalm is also charming, in this bitter-sweet nostalgia kind of a way one feels when surrounded by the reminders of the past - in this case, it’s the tiny red huts, home to what used to be Stockholm’s poorest residents - dock and industry workers, laundry women and prostitutes, often sharing one hut with 10, sometimes even 15 other people. ⁣
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Then there’s Ivar Los Park, sat on the back of Monteliusvägen; the entrance is easy to miss and for a good reason - it guards the way to one of the most stunning views of the city. ✨

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This street is called Tomtebogatan, and it’s where I stayed when I first came to Stockholm! Isn’t it dreamy? ✨ There used to be a castle just round the corner, on Rörstrandsgatan, which turned into a porcelain factory in 1700s. Most of the buildings in this area were built in the early 1900s and if you lived on the crossing overlooking the factory, you could easily tell the time of the day by watching the workers gather for their break.

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What is it gonna be then, your dream or a ‘what if’? c a p t u r e d b y @veerabianca

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Home is where you are the happiest 💛 It has nothing to do with where you were born, with the familiar. In fact, sometimes the foreign lands have a way of showering you with that feeling of homecoming that your very own hometown has never been able to give you.
I was born in Warsaw, a couple of years before the fall of the Berlin Wall. Back then, travelling was hard. Your passport was held at the police station and you couldn’t simply take off and leave. When I think of my childhood, I think of my grandma’s garden, long chats over endless cups of tea. To me, both my grandmas are made of pure magic and when I think of home, my old home, I always think of them. Then there were the high rises, the post-socialistic marks speckled around Warsaw. I grew up in one of those. I just turned 20 when I moved to England and it somehow became home in a way Poland never was. I’ve travelled across continents, finding so much joy in being able to simply pack up and leave, something my parents didn’t quite get to experience in their youth.
And now I’m here, in Stockholm, across the same sea where I grew up. I smile every time I cross Gamla Stan to Slussen; it reminds me of that day a year ago, when I saw the city in the evening light, with rain drops drying on my shoulders, the city lights shining on, that feeling of coming home after a long trip away. It was as if the city smiled at me. And then I smiled back.

Where do you feel the most at home? ✨

s n a p p e d b y @veerabianca

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