Dear Ms. Gilbert,

In past few days, I have a chance to spent some time in Italy. It was my big surprise and I was so excited about this trip. To be honest, Ms. Elizabeth Gilbert,your story with Julia Roberts' face is the first thing popping up in my head when I heard this big news. I even watched Eat Pray Love again before my trip as I have a high expectation to walk in the same path, to notice the same scene, to sense the same experience, just like yours. I even wish I could feel like the wonderful song of Beirut; Postcard from Italy, which has the dreamy lyric. But my trip is like the explanation below;

I won't complain about all of the chances I've got. To be in Italy and spend a few pennies are such a grateful opportunity. But I have to stay in a campsite, which is way out of my thought. The campsite is where chaos is. I personally hate a space with a bunch of people, well, except for concert and bar. The weather is nice but my skin is worst than ever. As an Asian woman with normal skin tone of NC20, I never want to be brighter as well as tanner than this -- which means I'm perfectly okay with what I always got. So, there's no need sunbathe like all others, and no need whitening lotion, too. While most people enjoy wearing their bikini and soaking up the sun at the campsite's beach, I turn to Kafka on the Shore and read it as I run a marathon. Which is quite a record for me, though, cause I finished it within 4 days. Nothing impressing or outstanding at all. Except the German family nearby my place that their teenage son wear AC/DC tee and smoking together with the parents.

I have a chance to go to Venice and it's the hottest day ever. It seems like I run out of all luck because this period of time is when all people got their fucking holidays. Venice with a bunch of people never be nice in my dictionary. Food is normal, Gelato is great, Guys are not my type at all -- I mean they're too perfect, too good-looking with all those six pacts and tan skin, wear Rayban shades walking around, It's like I'm looking at tons of the clonings. By the way, I got the peaceful 20 minutes on the Gondola. It somehow reminds me the scene of Luchino Visconti's Death In Venice and I love to see the old buildings with all dust and smudge flaws of what they've been through. And that 20 minutes is all and only priceless moment to remember in this trip.

I wish I could absorb Italy just like you, Ms. Gilbert, but I couldn't. Maybe I went the wrong day, wrong place, wrong time. But as Shakespeare once said: 'Expectation is the root of all heartache.' yes, yes, yes, that's all my innermost feeling for this trip. But don't worry, Ms. Gilbert, cause I'll give Italy a try again.