CW #1: The Journal

While traveling and exploring Italy, I pictured myself keeping mental notes, capturing moments through photography, and reminding myself of details and observations through written entries. I did not have specific requirements for my journal before buying it – all I wanted was something “pretty” and something that would remind me of Rome. However, the one thing that it could not be was expensive.

I had a mission.

Searching for the perfect journal was more difficult than I expected, mainly because I was not familiar with the city just yet. My initial attempt to find one was unsuccessful but noteworthy. That day, my roommates sent me off with general directions to the bookstore near the Campo de’ Fiori and told me that the store had a red sign. Aside from that, I really wasn’t sure what I was looking for or where I was going. Nevertheless, I thought searching for the bookstore on my own would be a clever way to familiarize myself with the streets around the Campo.

I wandered.

As I walked up and down Vittorio Emanuele alone, passing by shops with foreign names, I felt as though I was being watched and out of place, like the lone bright yellow dandelion in a big green field. It seemed like everyone I passed somehow knew I didn’t fit in with the Italians and was already judging me because I was Asian, wasn’t dressed the way they were, and perhaps didn’t even carry myself the way they do. This was my first time traveling in a foreign country on my own, so these feelings could have arisen due to first-time jitters, but either way, it made me uncomfortable to be out alone. To reduce my uneasiness, I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and kept walking, keeping my eyes peeled to what was ahead and acting like I knew where I was going and had a sense of purpose.

I was the foreigner.

Although I had my sunglasses on, I continued to feel like an outsider. However, I felt more in control because I could see my strangers’ thoughts through their eyes but they couldn’t see mine.

I was invincible.

I never did find the bookstore I was looking for that afternoon, so I ended up purchasing a journal from the Cartoleria Pantheon on my way to the Spanish Steps. It wasn’t the ideal journal, but I was at a point when the need for a journal was more important than finding one that satisfied all my requirements.

I was practical.

The combination of colors, design, and detail may appear to overwhelm the limited surface area of my journal, but I disagree. The size may not appeal to all as it is not particularly big, but it fits in my purse just right. Some may also describe it as “light as a feather”. The pages are lined so my stories will not appear as if they followed a crooked path, and thick enough to absorb the ink from my pen so my memories won’t seep through to the adjacent page. Records of observations during my travels and adventures will find themselves gradually tamed.