Let me first be VERY clear when I say that when I started this “blog” it was merely to feed my need to write my bloody heart out, as well as update my friends and family back home about how I was coping out in the big, bad world on my own. This little corner on the inter web of mine, along with my social media presence (well, lack thereof) was NEVER an opportunity to make myself feel popular, flaunt my lifestyle, or share photoshopped pictures of my booty on an exotic beach so I can appear relevant to strangers on the internet (winky face).

So now that the air has been somewhat cleared, here we go…

I despise, hate, loath, undermine “all that is” Bali, with literally everything I have in me. Yes, you read that correctly. Bali, Indonesia. That holy grail of an island in Southeast Asia that nearly everyone has been to and/or longs to go to. Been there, hate it. But if you had the privilege and luxury of visiting Bali before the year of…let’s say 2014...before Instagram turned this sensational island into a “scene”, I seriously envy you and I applaud you for not creating a lifestyle video accompanied by a Kygo song of your trip. You deserve a millennial medal. 

To me, Bali represents everything that’s wrong with this generation. Considering my demographics of this website, ages 21-34(ish), you all know exactly what I’m talking about. It feels like everyone these days is trying to take THE perfect photo, slapped with a dreamy filter, with a forced (but also somewhat subtle?) caption, all while wearing THE trendiest of clothing. And where do these try-hards go to do it all? Yep. Bali.

Now again, don’t get me wrong — infinity pools, rice fields, yoga, beaches, volcanos, sunsets, villas, surfing and smoothie bowls are high on my list of serenity and bliss as well. There are places in this world where you have to do certain things because you’re in the place where it needs to be done (i.e. French kiss someone in France, get a tattoo in Thailand), and eating a smoothie bowl whilst in Bali is just something you gotta do because you're in Bali. I too, am guilty of such basic-ness during my time on that damn island...

But what’s higher on the list (in any given location) is being aware of who you are and where you are. And no, I don’t mean this in a “become in-sync with your chakra, the present moment, and spiritual self,” type of way. I mean it in a literal sense. Put down your phone and wake up people, you’re in Indonesia.

It physically, mentally and emotionally haunts me to see my generation strutting around incredibly peaceful, religious and third world destinations, such as Bali, belligerently wasted, crashing motor bikes, and snapping photos in front of said religious sites with their cleavage showing, and whatever else the embarassing tourists of Bali are getting away with these days.

“Bali baby, yeah! Haha! Namaste!” Eye roll.

Not only do these cliche Bali bimbos, blokes, digital nomads, tourists, Potato Head dwellers, and “influencers” have zero concept of the fact that they’re in one of the most religious and third world countries of Southeast Asia — but what's even more mind blowing is that they ACTUALLY believe that (whether they've been to Bali or not, really) they are some sort of “influencer” or “public figure”.

Hold onto your selfie sticks my Bali bimbos and blokes, because I’ve got something to say that’s going to cause some waves in that Instagramable, infinity pool of yours. Are you ready?

Marin Luther King is a public figure. Amelia Earhart is a public figure. Oprah Winfrey is a public figure. Your 4th grade guidance counselor is an influencer. Your local policeman is an influencer. For crying out loud, refugees are influencers. People that actually make a difference, make history, educate others, create impact, and contribute something to society other than a steady flux of sexy beach photos, are REAL “influencers”.

Soaking yourself in tanning oil, with a bathing suit flossed up your butt, while you sit on a unicorn float, and an equally oiled-up dude jumps off the villa’s roof and into the pool, will without question get you countless little, red hearts lighting up on your phone, and will even trick your psyche into believing you’re important.

But you my friend, are NOT a public figure. *said in Jerry Springer’s voice*.

So please, next time you’re scrolling through that mindless Instagram feed and you see sexy Bali bimbos galore, and you feel unworthy or undefined because your last Instagram is a mediocre selfie you took in your 2003 Ford Focus, while waiting for your windshield to defrost so you can get to your desk job, and one of your eyes looks smaller than the other (bleak, I know, sorry), ask yourself this…

Are these fake and insignificant people that you idolize on the internet influencing you to be a better person? Are they changing the way you think? Helping you shape your future in any sort of way? Are they standing for anything whatsoever? Do you actually think your life will look like theirs by going to Bali? A fabricated place that actually makes people sh*t their pants just from brushing their teeth with the tap water? Or are these people just a distraction, to make you want to do and have sh*t you don't need or actually want?

Come on. MLK wouldn’t play you like that…

Numbers, likes, fake photos, trendy clothes, the car you drive, places you travel to — they do NOT define you. Your beliefs define you. Your friends and family define you. Your attitude defines you. Your education defines you. The type of music you listen to defines you (kidding, but no seriously).

Don't let an overrated place like Bali and the blokes and bimbos who reside there, allow you think any differently. 

AND PLEASE, for the love of GOD everyone, stop saying “Bali baby!”




After two years of chronic world travel, here’s what I’ve gathered...

1) Always be open minded. People who cannot see past their own opinions, ways & culture do not go anywhere in life. 

 There without a doubt is a sickness called “destination addiction”. And it nearly destroyed me. Happiness is NOT in the next location, the next job, the next year, etc. Until you give up the idea that happiness is somewhere else, it’ll never be where you are.

Read everything. Listen to what others have to say. Look around you. Ask questions. You can learn something new every hour. 

Time & running does not heal nor fix. Time just does a good job of making memories blurry. Running long & hard enough eventually leads you to collapse. Take healing & your well-being into your own hands. No one & nothing else will do it for you.

Fake it till ya make it! Especially when it comes to fancy hotels & airport lounges. You belong there. Your husband is on his way with the ticket, key, pass, etc. ;) Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

6) There are a LOT of evil & horrific things/people in this world. But there is far, far more good. So much good, it’ll move you to tears. Remember that the good outweighs the evil.

Everything will work if you power it off and then back on again. 

If you want it bad enough & work even harder for it, it’ll be yours. Excuses are for mother effing cowards. I’m living proof someone with very little funds AND student loans can travel the world. 

Express gratitude at every moment. Especially for the privileged life you’ve been handed. Never stop asking, “Why me? Why did I get so lucky?” when others...well let’s just say there’s images from my travels that will be burned into my mind forever.

Solitude, confusion, terror & loneliness are raw & captivating emotions. Let them happen. In fact, embrace them - for independence, liberation & clarity will soon (and always) follow. And it’s okay to call Mom crying when you’re alone & sick with food poisoning or after you get mugged. She always picks up.

 We are a part of a whole. We humans are NOT separate from nature nor are we above it. Nature isn’t just in your backyard, we ARE nature. Traveling has reiterated this understanding for me that we are all connected & more the same than we are different. 

I have so much still to see & do. These past two years were merely a surface scratch & a way to find out what I was made of. Turns out, it’s more than I ever imagined.




When we were younger, my older brother and I used to race home from school just to park ourselves in front of our basement television and watch endless hours of Nickelodeon together.

I can still sing word-for-word the theme songs to both The Wild Thornberries and Rocket Power, and can play The Rugrats melody on the piano. But ironically, it’s the commercial breaks that I remember the most, which usually consisted of me yelling and pointing at the TV saying, “I WANT THAT!” when some sort of cheap, princess toy would be advertised before my 8-year-old eyes. 

"You want everything!" My brother used to say to me with such irritation, ”Just shut up! Mom is not gonna buy it for you!” But he was right. About two things. The first being my mom didn’t buy the cheap, princess toys for me (ever), and the second — I wanted EVERYTHING.

And when I got older I especially wanted to travel. And I was going to do so despite the hardships or what was standing in my way; be it people, money, work, or time.

And dammit, I did! I moved to three different foreign countries. I backpacked the planet alone. I circumnavigated 30+ countries in five different continents. I explored places like Dubai, where I had meals with men in turbans. And Mongolia, where I experienced what it’s like to be mugged. And India, where I rode camels and danced with gypsies in the desert. And Sri Lanka, where I finally (somewhat) mastered the art of surfing. And Morocco, where I faced one of THE scariest situations of my life. And Indonesia, where I hitch-hiked in monsoons and climbed active volcanos. And my GOD, am I tired.

Now, to anyone that actually reads this stupid version of a “travel blog”, and/or has paid me to write travel articles for them, to anyone that has listened to me preach until my face turns blue about the benefits of travel, and how my burning passion to see our pale blue dot outweighs any ounce of fear or lack of money I may or may not have in any given location — I’m about to hit you all with a sober false virtue. Listen up.

Thanks to that far fetched, fad of a novel Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (and the world of Instagram), travel has this connotation attached to it that people who are courageous enough to test its waters are going to have some self revelation or a transformative excursion in which they will never be the same. I’m talking, a soul-rupturing, wisdom-cracking, independence-gaining, love and lustful, stimulating adventure. 

And there was a time during my travels where all of the above happened for me in ways that I NEVER imagined. I began to look at the world differently. I picked it up, turned it around, adopted a different angle and questioned everything. Exploring the world, its people and its beauty while exploring who I am made me feel 100% alive. I felt as if I could connect with strangers from any given corner of the globe I found myself in. And that I could do whatever I damn pleased, whenever I damn pleased to. Like I could completely engage with the world around me, and sometimes even create a world of my own…

But I’ll confess that it isn’t always transformative experiences and heart-bursting cultural connections. Sometimes it can also be lonely, daunting, confusing, confronting, and even terrorizing. 

You see, more often than not over the past two years, I was packing, unpacking, budgeting, working overseas, researching and catching flights, to the point where I nearly collapsed with exhaustion. More often than not, I was obliging myself to stay awake in whatever bus station or sketchy hotel room I found myself in, just because no one was looking out for me…but me. More often than not, I was faced with confusing and unnecessary situations that I just didn’t know how to handle on my own. And more often than not, I was hit with a harsh reality of never seeing people who I really connected with on the road and made homes in…ever again. But the worst of the worst was how each time I stepped foot into a new country, it felt as if I was walking even further away from my friends, family and life back home. Which ultimately made me feel as if I was running from well, myself.

These quiet hours, these decisions, these realities of chronic travel that you endure; they unlock insecurities, curiosities, and truths in the greatest ways but also in the darkest and loneliest ways. And it forces you to question everything about this dream lifestyle you’ve created. 

How much travel is TOO much travel? When do you stop “finding yourself” and start “being yourself”? What do I do now that I’ve seen the world? Should I keep going? When did this turn from “self-enhancing” to “self-exhausting”? Why am I pathetically crying in a jacuzzi of a 5-star hotel? Do my friends miss me as much as I miss them? Can I even relate to them anymore? What did I get myself into? And what the hell am I doing in Morocco, India, South Korea, Mongolia, etc.? 

Two years ago I left Chicago, a place I am so blessed to call home, because I felt like I was living an unoriginal life. Forcing that 9-5 routine, taking my surroundings and people for granted, in full auto-pilot mode. Nothing felt interesting, challenging, or even relevant. So I left my comfort zone and headed out into the world to grow, push myself forward, and see what I was made of. 

But now, it’s as if I’ve created another comfort zone — traveling. What was interesting, magical, challenging, or abnormal for me before on the road, is now just numbingly normal, unexciting and ultimately unoriginal to me after all this time galavanting. So it appears as if a new challenge is on the horizon, and that is to go home (for real this time, I swear!) and try and adapt to a lifestyle back in the states. You know, that lifestyle I was so desperate to get away from before? Yeah, I know. Yikes...

I guess (no matter how dreamy and exhilarating Elizabeth Gilbert, Instagram and society makes a life of travel out to be) the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Well okay, hold that thought…the sushi in Japan, train rides in India, surf in Sri Lanka, locals in Burma, and souvenir shopping in Mykonos are far better and thrilling than some other places, comparatively speaking...but you get what I mean. 

I was told when I first began my global escapade, “You’ll know when it’s time to go home.” And at the time I nearly laughed in their face thinking, “TO HELL WITH AMERICA! I’m going to travel until I die!” But now, I know exactly what they had meant.

There comes a point when you need to stop (or at least pump the brakes) exploring the world and start exploring yourself and everything it has taught you. When you need to turn the page and build with everything it has given you. A time when you move forward and apply the things you’ve learned, discovered, experienced and overcame out in the big, bad world, towards something…well, MORE.

And so, that’s my next chapter.

Of course, I’m terrified of what failures may accompany it all, just like I was scared when I left home two years ago. But like I told myself then — go with the choice that scares you most, because that’s the one that is going to help you grow. And MAN, did I grow from each step along the way of this cross-continental escapade. Which leads me to believe that this next challenging chapter will be just as (if not more) sky-rocketing for me. Fingers crossed.

But in the meantime, my wish is that I continue to proudly share my words, thoughts, discoveries and travels (near and far). And hope that they don’t just inspire you to book a flight, question everything, or make a change in what you think may be a mundane, draining lifestyle (be it a 9-5 or the exact opposite) — but that they also teach or remind you (and me), to never settle for less. To keep learning about yourself. To keep growing and nourishing your wants and to keep discovering your needs. And to keep trying, keep exploring, keep figuring it out, and keep fighting for the heart within your chest. Because if travel has taught me anything, it’s that our heart is all we’ve got and it’s crucial to follow and do what’s best for it no matter what.

See you back stateside. For good this time! REALLY! I swear.

​           xx E




​For as long as my memory can backbend, I have been holding a pen. They help me to make sense of the world. I think society calls that a writer, but it’s always felt more fitting to call it “sanity”.​

It still comes as a shock to me to realize that I don’t write about what I know — I write in order to find out what I know whether it be with myself, with other people, with a memory, with a destination, or just with life. Putting these things into words on paper helps. It has always helped.

So you can imagine the liberation I felt when I first quit my 9-5 job back home in Chicago to move abroad, teach English, travel, and write about all that I was about to endure. I thought it was my moment to shine, see the world, figure my craft out, and show people what happens when I string a few sentences together. Check mate, right?

Well as it turns out, a 9-5 is still a 9-5 whether you’re at home or overseas. Draining. Tedious. Aggravating. Soul-sucking. And all that "teaching English"  junk was still getting in the way of what I really wanted to be doing, writing. And not just for my sanity or a hobby but for a living, dammit!

Yet the warnings consumed me. “Don’t quit your day job to be a writer.” “You’re going to need a big savings to suffer from the financial blow.” “You can’t travel on a freelance writer’s salary.” “What about your student loans?”

To be perfectly honest, I was scared.

Until two weeks ago, that is, when I threw logic out the window, and did what my burning gut told me to do, and that was to bloody go for it.

I mean, I had the cliental. I had some savings. I had a suitcase waiting to be packed. I had words waiting to be written. But on top of all of that, I had a fiery passion inside me for both writing and travel, and was hell-bent on doing it full-time.

Now, this isn’t me saying, “MOMMA, I MADE IT!” Because I haven't, and again, it’s only been two weeks since I left a very high-paying job of teaching English in Hong Kong (ugh). And sweet Jesus, do I still have a long way to go with literally everything.

This is me saying, “I’m finally on my way.”

I consider that impulsive, pack up and go, book your flight at the airport moment, a turning point for me as a creative, traveler, aspiring full-time freelancer, young entrepreneur, and whatever else I’m self-proclaiming these days…

If you’ve been following (or stalking) along, you know that two years ago I embarked on a cross-continental, solo mission where I found myself observing, navigating, deciphering, participating and realizing just how jubilantly capable I truly am as a little white girl out in the big, bad world. But even after all was said and done, I still couldn’t seem to trust. Trust in others, in the world, but mostly, I couldn’t trust in myself. It’s something that has always been an uphill battle for me. And I thought the big world tour would enlighten me with some damn self-assurance, but nah..

It wasn’t until that impulsive moment a few weeks ago, when I finally felt some faith. The moment I just didn’t show up for another day on the clock, and left for the airport instead. The moment when push came to shove, and I booked a plane ticket with nothing but a few t-shirts, a camera, and a notebook in my carry-on bag. In that moment, I finally learned to trust myself. I finally learned to look the fear of failure (and what could happen to my financial and mental state) straight in the eye, and bark back with that burning passion I possess for making words come to life. I reminded myself that writing was something I always trusted in. After all, it’s been a part of me for this long. I think I even have a diploma for it laying around somewhere…

That hunger I had before to just simply have the time to do what I love, is now being fulfilled. And I’m finally living, dwelling and consuming myself with my writing, and the smile has yet to leave my face. It feels like I’m finally doing “it” right. And by “it” I mean, life.

Like I said, I’ve still got miles to go until I’m even close to where I want to be, but I am one giant step closer than I was two weeks ago, and that is something worth celebrating (or at least writing a blog post about). There's no going back from here. Everyday is a chance to create and a chance to shape a future filled with things we adore. What are you doing with your days? 

​                  xx E




Hey Em, 
Been rough lately, yeah? I know, I remember. Lots of noise, confusion, mood swings, bad hair days, physics homework you don’t understand, brother hogging the bathroom, & SO many questions of, “is it going to get better?”

Well 25-year-old-you is here to tell you, it does. Sorry it took me ten years. I’ve been busy.

First things first. Everything & everywhere you predicted would have & be at the age of 25 — it didn’t happen. No, you’re not engaged to that one guy you thought you’d be. You’re not rich. You don’t own a car. You don’t have two books published, & you for sure don’t live in California. 

In fact, you’re going to break your ankle & wrist at the exact same time. You’re going to get mugged - twice in fact! You’re going to get in a few car accidents. You’re going to have rumors spread about you. You’re going to fail some important exams. You’re going to lose someone really close to you. You’re going to get fired. You’re going to have your heart broken in more ways than you can count. Emma, you’re going to experience some pretty awful things.

I know what you’re thinking, “Um, I thought you said it got better?” but hear me out…

You need to go through all of this. You have to! Each one of those terrible things, they’re molding you for what’s to come. Life, God, or whatever the hell put you here (luckily Netflix has been invented & you’ll watch enough Sci-Fi documentaries to figure this out), wouldn’t send all these obstacles your way if you weren’t strong enough to handle them. And you don’t realize this now, but you are one brave, strong & badass little lady

So listen. And listen carefully, because I don’t want you fucking this up. Are you listening? Write this down. Your journal is wedged in between your mattress so your brothers won’t find it. Got it? Good. 

Keep dreaming. Keep reading. Keep writing. Keep questioning. You do this naturally, but promise yourself never to stop. Your independence, your creativity, your curiosity, & that burning fire inside you — it’s all going to take you places you’ve never imagined. When you reach those places, remember even from there, you still have a long way to go. There is always more to learn, more to achieve, more people to meet, more to experience. There will be some serious slumps & rough phases along the way where your entire vision becomes blurry. You will give up & convince yourself that your dreams are impossible to reach, but luckily, that fire inside you doesn’t completely extinguish. Be grateful for that.

Family. They’re number one. No matter the circumstances or dark times. Respect them. Love them always. Support them when they need support. Forgive them no matter what. It doesn’t seem like it now, but you hit the lottery with your (two!) homes, your childhood, your parents, your brothers, & they love all you more than any other person you cross during your journey. And as hard as it is & will be for you to accept, Mom is usually right about everything.

You will give up on a few things. Swimming, photography, homework, friends, doing your hair everyday, writing, even yourself. But don’t worry, some of these things (the ones that are meant to be), they come back to you. Definitely not the drive to do your hair everyday, but your writing & your childhood friends — those essentials that make up who you are & who you always have been, they never really left you. Once you find these things again, it gets easier.

That brings me to people. There will be countless that leave & countless that stick around. For the ones that leave, that’s more than okay. They played some sort of role in your journey, as you did in their’s. It’s no one’s fault if you lose touch, fall-out, or move on. It’s just life! For the ones that stay, hold on tight. You’ll learn later that genuine, relevant, real, & like-minded people are hard to come by. You were never a push-over or people pleaser, this will be helpful in many situations when you smell bullshit. Keep demanding respect & being your true, honest self no matter what challenges others throw your way. Do you! Even if others tell you you’re wrong, or rude, etc. At the end of the day, you only have yourself. And there will be people that gossip about what you’re doing, copy you, & simply screw you over. Just walk away from pointless, boring, crazy, irrelevant or toxic people before you waste any more time, or worse, lose yourself while trying to find the good in them. 

Stop trying to fit in. You don’t. Embrace it. Ugg boots are hideous & you know it. Don’t bug Mom to buy you a pair just because everyone else has them. In fact, just stop shopping all together & put your money into savings. You’re going to hate yourself in the future when you think about all the money you spent on irrelevant things like Ugg boots. And you’ll fight it for years, but you are different than most & that’s a good thing, trust me. You may feel like you need to hide it now, or do what everyone else does, but please don't. Why? Because being different is going to take you places.  

Which brings me to the next part, & the best part. YOU, yes you…you’re going to travel. Not just around the U.S. (like you currently are hoping) but around the entire planet. You’re going to go to places like Mongolia, India, Spain, & Greece. Can you believe it?! Mongolia! Do you know where that even is on a map right now? The bad news is, some of the places you experience will bring tears, pain, terror & confusion & it will force you to question if there is good in this world. There is. So keep traveling & keep questioning. Don’t stop. Even when you find yourself out of money or hitchhiking in the rain. You’ll get your answers out there. The ones you’ve been searching for for years & you’ll feel more inspired than you do right now.

Second best part? Your writing is going to be published. In magazines, newspapers, on the internet, you name it! That thing you hear during your 12th grade Journalism class with Mr. Clark, “good writing is rewriting,” well, it sticks with you. People are actually going to pay you for your words & what you have to say. Especially about all your travels. Remember this when you bomb that physics exam later this week…you’re a writer.

But Emma, if you gain anything from this, from this bizarre, mystical letter from your future self, it should be this: You are beautiful. And you are good enough. More than enough! Do not ever, EVER let anyone tell you otherwise, especially yourself. 

It’s always darkest before the dawn. And DAMN is it dark for you right now. But Mom was right (Jesus, how does she do it?!), “it’s going to get better” & you deserve that. You deserve everything that you’re wishing & hoping for. The bad news is, it’s not a life on the beaches of California with that really cute guy you were crushing on (what was his name again?), or a steep bank account from writing best-seller after best-seller.

The good news is, it’s better. Much better. And I love you.
 ​                                               xx E




“What do you do?” people usually ask me casually, the way people do — new acquaintances, the dentist, someone sitting next to me on an airplane, you get the idea..

But recently I was asked, “What do you WANT to do?” presuming that I had other aspirations other than…well, being a gypsy (as my father jokingly calls me). 

“I travel,” is what I said back. “I want to see the world.” And it feels exactly that simple. 

Travel is really the only thing I’ve found that gives me a sense of everything — creativity, inspiration, answers, freedom and wealth (not talking about money here). It's a way of life where euphoria, simplicity, and a good dose of humor all come together. And the best part is no shoes are ever required.

And of course, throughout my global galavants, I’ve found many things along the way, myself being one of them. I’ve observed, navigated, deciphered, participated, and discovered until it lead me to tears of joy and sheer terror. And I’m grateful for every last millisecond of it all, good and bad. 

But among the many things I’ve noticed is that we traveling millennials (you know, the drone flying, swiping, selfie-taking, self-timer, filtering wizards) are ruining the euphoria of travel. If you’re over the age of 30 and are not familiar with what I’m talking about, all you need to know is that we millennials tend to pathetically say things like “do it for the ‘gram” and “hike for likes”.

Yeah, I’m embarrassed too…

In this time of endless emails, texts, Insta-everything, sponsors, influencers, Snapchat this and Facebook that, we think we are connected. But it’s a false connectivity. What we often lose is a real relationship with the dealer fiber of travel, and moreover…life.

I believe that the more we obsess on social media, posts, sharing, capturing, and creating while traveling, the dirtier things can get. And by dirty I mean further away from the core intention of discovery and magic that we true travelers first fell in love with. To me, pure travel at its best is nothing but a series of happy accidents and freedom. Mostly freedom to discover and be ourselves.

This means no camera set ups, no Instagram stories, sponsored posts, no filters, no angles, no screens, no edits, no drones, no selfies, and whatever else we’re calling “creativity” and “self-expression” these days. Life without the lens or audience, and traveling for the sake of travel. 

I mean sure, if it’s all paying for your plane tickets and hotels then by all means, set up your cameras, filter your selfies in front of Angkor Wat, captioned with a cliche Tomb Raider quote and live your moments to the “fullest” by staring at them through a screen. High five?

But God damnit, it’s 2018! We could be doing something so much more! Something original! Something that will outlive us. Because the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time to think and do so small. They can’t bury you with your likes, product promos, selfies, videos, and sponsors, for crying out loud! 

I know that in this day-and-age it can be excruciatingly difficult because everywhere we go or every Instagram profile we come across, it seems like everyone has their life together and they appear to know exactly which direction they’re going. But the truth is everyone is always striving for more. 

We are conditioned to think that if we have more, own more, make more, achieve more, that they will somehow BE more. More of what? I’m not sure. Human, maybe? But everyone is already human (except for Michael Jordan, of course), so it really doesn’t make sense.

But the truth is, no matter how many zeros you put in your bank account, you can always feel bankrupt inside. No matter how many people comment that you look hot in your bikini picture in Bali, you can still struggle with your self-esteem. I can carry on with this, but I won’t. Again, you get it...

So ask yourself, ARE YOU DOING EVERYTHING YOU CAN TO BE WHO YOU WANT TO BE? Are you getting everything out of your travels? Or are you just following the crowd? Filtering your photos to appear relevant? Hiking for likes? Doing it for the fucking ‘gram? Eye roll. 

Stop chasing the likes. Start living. I promise it gets so much better when you do.

                                                                                                  xx E




Fashion. A discourse consuming people for decades. I went from someone who use to work in the industry (I lasted all of six months), to someone who sold all of my designer handbags, shoes & dresses to support my nomadic lifestyle, to a frequent "guy’s section" shopper (t-shirts over tube tops), but also someone who fell completely head-over-heels for the textiles, patterns and colors of India, Turkey & Morocco, & now find myself hunting the back streets of Hong Kong for vintage, no one-else-will-have-this, finds.

Style, clothes, fashion & trends have literally & figuratively given me a run for my money & mind. And I grow incredibly frustrated with the idea & pressure society creates, that women should be changing their wardrobes with the season or decade, just to…well… “fit in”. I mean, I’ve tried! But I simply don’t connect with the idea of fast “on trend” fashion, since I believe it encourages a repulsively superficial, consumerist society that at the end of the day, is pretty inauthentic & serves no value. I don’t want any part of that. 

Over the past few years of traveling extensively and living in foreign countries, I’ve truly noticed:

1. A majority of the world’s population wears the same clothes nearly everyday, for years, & are overwhelmingly, to their core, happy!
2. My purchases effect other people. We are all connected. Where I go, what I buy, how I buy, how I throw away, my consumption effects everyone. It unfortunately took visiting a sweatshop in rural China to realize this. 
3. Instagram is where trends go to die.

When you’re attempting to see every inch of the world on a freelancer’s income, a steady influx of cute tops, shoes, & whatever else we purchase these days, is just flippin’ comical. So I stick with a uniform of black, leather & denim (timeless) & of
course yoga pants (purchased from the Yoga Barn in Bali) for comfort on airplanes & overnight trains. But most importantly — I purchase items that have a story behind them, or an item that I can create a story behind. Look around you, does everything you own have a story behind it? Or is it something you just bought to keep up with the latest trends? What do these items mean to you? Where did you purchase it? Where did you wear it? And if you were to get rid of it, would it rid you of that memory, place or feeling?

I consider these things daily. And now, I attempt to wear and purchase unique pieces collected during my travels from all over the world. No, this doesn’t mean I strut down the street in a kimono or an indigenous tribal hat I found in some off-the-grid country. But it does mean, I avoid places like H&M and head straight into second-hand/vintage stores, where I’ll typically find something cheaper, recycled, pre-loved, & possessing a bit more character. Or I’ll head to markets & bazaars where the items have been handmade, tailored, stitched, or crafted by the locals of that country (i.e. a pair of Harlem pants that were custom made for me in Udaipur, India that I lived in for a month on the road), where I can completely skip the greedy middle man, fast fashion machines, & give my money directly to the person who created it.

The pieces I’ve been collecting for my launch of “Emma’s Bazaar” - my upcoming online store - are pieces I’ve found throughout my travels. They speak of another time or place & have a story behind them. They contain quality & are carefully crafted, handmade items that are vastly superior to anything you’d find in a high-street store. They’re made to last, not just to be tossed out once the season is done. When I wear them, I feel transported & nostalgic. And when someone asks me where I got the piece from, I’ll have an interesting story to tell them about my travels, rather than just saying I got it at Zara last week, or hit that fashion blogger's "liketoknowit" on Instagram. Eye roll. 
These peices separate me as a responsible. original consumer & traveler. And that's always the intention.

Stay tuned for the launch this 2018. I’m excited to share my stories & treasures with you all.
                            xx E




Whenever I leave Chicago for my family's home in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, I'm always surprised by how my mood and energy completely shifts. 

I'll drive down Highway 50, straight into downtown, and slowly that dose of medicine I always desperately need, no matter how long I’ve been away from my first and greatest love, begins to kick in. And there I am. Home. Happy. But “home” and “happy” feel like an understatement, because it's much, much more than that.

Lake Geneva is a place where your soul can rest, your pulse can slow, where you can be yourself, and where you can drink to life just as it is. It’s who I am, it’s where I belong, it’s where I’ll end up, it’s where my spirit was born. And even after all this time, even after missing a few summers pier-side because I'm  jet-setting around the globe, seeing some of the planet’s most cherished wonders and landscapes — this place is still my favorite in the world.
Champ’s is to my right as I continue to drive, and I’ll slow down to see if I recognize anyone in the front window mingling with a beer. Chances are, I’ll pull over to say “hello” and have a beer with them. Whoever it is, we’ll catch up like it hasn’t been years since we’ve last seen each other.

The lake is to my left, and if I time the drive just right, I can make it as the sun slowly begins to set behind The Rivera — one of many places at the lake where I had some major bucket-list moments. The first time I caught a fish. The first time I rode a jetskii. The first time I crashed a wedding. The latter of these moments always brings a cheeky smile to my face.
This place alone is why we true “lake rats” all have an ode to it, somewhere tattoo-ed on our bodies. But if you don’t, you most certainly have some sort of scar on your foot/leg from the time you were sliced by something at the bottom of the lake, or on your hand because you were so drunk on the back of a boat en route to Chuck’s, and you tried twisting open a ​​Spotted Cow — forgetting that they are, in fact, not twist-offs. And if you're like me, some sort of prized possession once formally yours, is at the bottom of that lake, in nearly every corner of it. The east-end, the west-end, north shore and south, have all robbed me of bracelets, sunglasses and bikini bottoms. Though I blame the bikini bottoms scandal on a late, weeknight skinny dipping session back in my teenage years. Those were the best nights; when it felt like my friends and I had the lake all to ourselves, and that we could do anything. And we did! Well after dark and legal-lake-hours, wakeboard attached to the back of someone's parent's boat…. But glass is glass, and we weren’t going to miss out. ​​

I still hold onto that feeling. Everywhere I go. It’s mine forever, as well as this perfect slice of heaven. I adore you always, LG.

                                                                                                         xx  E




Ah ​​​Asia, how I’ve missed you so. Your backpacker ghettos, your chaotic streets with telephone wires hanging above like chandeliers, and street vendors with fake Gucci sunglasses and obnoxious looking Harlem pants that every traveler buys to stay cozy on overnight buses, but then lapses into wearing for four days straight. The place where I developed a love-hate-hate-really-hate relationship with monkeys; where I fell in love, and saw and did things that I can never un-see and do.

For the broke, there are Western Union offices. For the ill and anxious, there are street pharmacies selling antibiotics, blister packs and generic Valium. For the planless, there are “travel agents” working out of kiosks, with obnoxious sandwich-board signs out in front reminding you that for just $200USD, you can have yourself an unforgettable Angkor Wat experience. For the inspired, there are side streets lit up with neon lights, and heart-stopping sunsets that you just can’t quite get in your mother country. 

It takes a certain kind of crazy to live this lifestyle, but I’m back for round two, Asia. This time with new dreams & ambitions.​
                                                                                                                                                      xx  E