As I took the train to Valencia at 8:55 pm on a Wednesday night, I silently sobbed, sat next to a priest in a comforting twist of events. This was the last time I would be on the way to greet my love. We both knew our love story was coming to an end. As the distance seemed to grow larger, and the fuller my life became, the greater the space between us. Looming in the now-near future, my departure from Europe and the expiration of two years abroad. The ticks of the time bomb only got louder and louder with each visit as we both pretended we couldn't hear them.

My favorite Friday mornings start with a 7 a.m. trip out of Madrid. This weekend’s shenanigans included a group of 10 Americans on a train to Málaga for a few days by the sea. We had a few mutual goals in mind: get a nice tan after a month of rain, lay on the beach, and get good content for the reality show pilot we were filming among our friend group. Lindsay and Mark, co-producers and avid reality TV enthusiasts, had the grand idea to film our weekend adventures.

I must be a morning person, considering this was the second week in a row I woke up for an early trip. 6:30 a.m. flight to Belgium. By 8:35 a.m., I’m in Brussels, and by 10, I’m on the train halfway to Antwerp. You might be thinking, Why are you in Belgium AGAIN? Girl, stand up!

"Early morning trips are my specialty," I think as I wake up at 6:30 a.m. for yet another early start. This time, I’m on my way to Atocha train station to catch a train to Sevilla Santa Justa for a quick two-day trip with Mark and Olivia. It’s been raining in Madrid for what feels like weeks now. We arrive in Sevilla to find that the weather is the same across Spain. But at least this time, we’re in the south, where palm trees stand tall amidst the mist.

Copenhagen before Christmas is the ultimate weekend winter wonderland. 

I’d like to tell you about Antwerp, but I feel it’s my duty as a journalist to inform you of my personal bias. I had my heart broken in this city, so the usual rose-colored glasses I wear in a new city have faded to a gray-blue. Much like the weather in this northern Belgian city in the thick of January, my memories are tainted by a constant mist and the frigid temperature of my heart weighing me down. I'm not really sure what this story is about except me trying to find my way through it—through the weekend and through the time hereafter.

Amsterdam is one of Europe’s most loved cities. Famous for Van Gogh, Rembrandt, tulips, bicycles, and, of course, infamous for its liberal party tendencies and the red-light district.

Another attraction to visit, for me, was my long-distance boyfriend. He lives in Amsterdam; I live in Madrid. My first real boyfriend, and I’ve decided to go the hardest possible route with a consistent separation of 1,102 miles.

You may recall in my last story, I briefly mentioned my beautiful, blue-eyed Belgian sweetheart that I met in Nice. Our brief fling unintentionally blossomed into something more, and I couldn’t decline the invitation to visit him in Belgium a month later.

Dictionary.com defines "baecation" as: any vacation spent with your bae, otherwise known as your romantic partner. This is also not quite taken with your "boyfriend," but rather whatever you call that pre-relationship phase, sometimes referred to as a “situationship.”

The South of France was made for girls like me who enjoy being boujee in a beautiful place.

Two months later, I'm still longing for the dazzling blue beach, lounging on the navy-and-white striped chairs at Ruhl Plage, sipping a liter bottle of Whispering Angel rosé, and chatting with the cute new boy I met the night before.

Four days in Nice is just enough to fall in love and long enough to leave you craving more. Every café in the heart of Old Town buzzes with French and English conversations, inviting you to enjoy a croissant while you ogle gorgeous French men and eat fruit by the sea.

Five girls, one birthday, and the full moon flying to Mallorca for a long weekend is the recipe for a freaky girl's trip. It started as all good girls' trips do, 10 am flight and a little hungover from the night before because we were too excited about our coming island vacation. Our best friend flew all the way from California for her birthday. The hair of the dog was the immediate cure when we touched down in Palma.

The following is a running list of my favorite cheap restaurants in Madrid. For this price point, there is no vibe requirement, only a few euros. Good food is mandatory, but if it also has good energy it will be specified. Sometimes you just want to eat and vibes don’t always pay the bills.

The following is a running list of my favorite midrange price point restaurants in Madrid. I call it eat/drink/vibe because a truly satisfying dining experience must have the perfect combination of all three. I promise to never take you somewhere with bad vibes.

The following is a running list of my favorite upscale restaurants in Madrid. I call it eat/drink/vibe because a truly satisfying dining experience must have the correct vibe. I promise to never take you somewhere will bad vibes.

Let me paint you a picture: you’re living abroad in Madrid where beer is cheaper than water and taking the train to Barcelona at 6:05 a.m. is even cheaper. On a rainy Friday morning, my best friend and I took the early bird train out of the Atocha train station to experience our city’s rival—Barcelona. Most people at home automatically assume we live in Barcelona when they find out we live in Spain. This is a fair assessment given the amount of Americans. Try to speak Spanish? Catalan? No, English, please.

Any girl who goes abroad should be prepared for one thing. Men. The men in London are no different. With their charming British accents and their chivalrous attitude, a girl can be charmed into thinking she’s found her Prince Harry. This is the story of how I found myself charmed in London for 72 hours.