A couple rides by on their bicycles, his hand on her back, her hand clasping his. At first we think he’s helping her up a small hill, but they continue riding that way for blocks and blocks, holding hands until they’re out of sight.

When you picture traveling to Europe, do you imagine daydreaming at a small cafe over cappuccinos, cigarettes, and a journal thick with creamy blank pages? Yeah, me too.

Our whole trip was like that. Except we don’t smoke. Californians are annoying that way.