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Girl Meets World

Welcome to Girl Meets World – my own little corner of the internet. I’m Jo – a thirty-something professional wanderer and freelance writer penning my experiences while living abroad. 

 

 

Though I suppose my great love affair with the world began the summer I studied abroad in Italy. … I haven’t been able to stay in one place for too long since.

With nothing but a passport and a dream, I began …

 

 

I hope that this space can serve as a blank canvas to capture the moments both big and small along the road, wherever it may take me. 

 

Jack Kerouac once wrote, “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.”

 

 

Countries (30) – Austria • Bahamas • Belgium • Bosnia & Herzegovina • Canada • Costa Rica • Croatia • Czech Republic • Denmark • Egypt • France • Germany • Greece • Hungary • Iceland • Ireland • Italy • India • Montenegro • Morocco • Netherlands • Poland • Portugal • Slovakia • Spain • Sweden • Switzerland • United Kingdom (England, Northern Ireland, Scotland) • United States of America • Vatican City 

 

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hi there, i’m jordan

hi there, i’m jordan

girl meets world

Welcome to Girl Meets World. I'm a Michigan girl currently living the Irish dream. Follow along as this twenty-something professional wanderluster finds her place in this world.

Where am I now?

Where am I now?

dublin
Dublin, Ireland

Instagram

Oh hey! Fancy seeing you here. Haven’t been as active on this account in a while as I would have liked to be. Call it a lack of creativity, inspiration, motivation… I’m working on finding each of those again in this space. I’ve been on the road a lot over the last year, and I’m ready to share it all ✈️✨
•
Follow

Oh hey! Fancy seeing you here.

Haven’t been as active on this account in a while as I would have liked to be. Call it a lack of creativity, inspiration, motivation… I’m working on finding each of those again in this space. I’ve been on the road a lot over the last year, and I’m ready to share it all ✈️✨

8 months ago
View on Instagram |
1/9
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
•
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Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
2/9
London in bloom 🌼
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London in bloom 🌼

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
3/9
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
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Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
4/9
Counting down the days til I’m reunited with my EF Morocco girlies, cruising the Nile in Egypt 🐪 🌴 @efultimatebreak just dropped 20+ new trips… AND they’re on sale now! I’m eyeing up that new trip to Jordan because, well 👀 Why travel with EF? ★ You’ll make new friends! EF trips are for ages 18-35. ★ You can book now, pay later! Interest-free payment plans mean you can pay over time ★ And finally, just show up! Take the stress out of travel - everything is planned for you. Check out the link in my bio to get booking ✈️ #ultimateambassador #thisisultimate
•
Follow

Counting down the days til I’m reunited with my EF Morocco girlies, cruising the Nile in Egypt 🐪 🌴

@efultimatebreak just dropped 20+ new trips… AND they’re on sale now! I’m eyeing up that new trip to Jordan because, well 👀

Why travel with EF?

★ You’ll make new friends! EF trips are for ages 18-35.

★ You can book now, pay later! Interest-free payment plans mean you can pay over time

★ And finally, just show up! Take the stress out of travel – everything is planned for you.

Check out the link in my bio to get booking ✈️ #ultimateambassador #thisisultimate

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
5/9
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
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Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love – how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late.

When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one.

And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town.

It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said.

So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope.

I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write.

I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet.

The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences.

So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two.

Love, Juliet ♥️

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
6/9
“Coming back to Edinburgh is to me like coming home.” – Charles Dickens (and me) ✨
“Coming back to Edinburgh is to me like coming home.” – Charles Dickens (and me) ✨
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“Coming back to Edinburgh is to me like coming home.” – Charles Dickens (and me) ✨

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
7/9
Me looking for Friday 🐪 Excited to announce that I’m now a @efultimatebreak Ambassador! EF makes it SO easy to travel. I met amazing new friends, made some core memories, checked some items off the bucket list, and most importantly… left the planning up to someone else. The Highlights of Morocco tour was a dream, and I’m already counting down til the next trip (see you in Cairo 👀) Use code UAJORDAN100 or check the link in my bio for €100 off your trip ✈️ And feel free to DM me with any questions about traveling with EF! See you out there 🫶 #ultimateambassador #thisisultimate #efultimatebreak
•
Follow

Me looking for Friday 🐪 Excited to announce that I’m now a @efultimatebreak Ambassador!

EF makes it SO easy to travel. I met amazing new friends, made some core memories, checked some items off the bucket list, and most importantly… left the planning up to someone else. The Highlights of Morocco tour was a dream, and I’m already counting down til the next trip (see you in Cairo 👀)

Use code UAJORDAN100 or check the link in my bio for €100 off your trip ✈️

And feel free to DM me with any questions about traveling with EF! See you out there 🫶

#ultimateambassador #thisisultimate #efultimatebreak

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
8/9
things i miss about morocco: the mint tea, the sense of hospitality from the locals, the mint tea, the architecture and design, the mint tea, the dry heat of the desert sun, the mint tea…
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things i miss about morocco: the mint tea, the sense of hospitality from the locals, the mint tea, the architecture and design, the mint tea, the dry heat of the desert sun, the mint tea…

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
9/9
Oh hey! Fancy seeing you here. Haven’t been as active on this account in a while as I would have liked to be. Call it a lack of creativity, inspiration, motivation… I’m working on finding each of those again in this space. I’ve been on the road a lot over the last year, and I’m ready to share it all ✈️✨
•
Follow

Oh hey! Fancy seeing you here.

Haven’t been as active on this account in a while as I would have liked to be. Call it a lack of creativity, inspiration, motivation… I’m working on finding each of those again in this space. I’ve been on the road a lot over the last year, and I’m ready to share it all ✈️✨

8 months ago
View on Instagram |
1/6
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾
•
Follow

Only took until September to get an Irish summer but when the sun finally came out you bet the first thing I did was run to the hills 🥾

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
2/6
London in bloom 🌼
•
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London in bloom 🌼

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
3/6
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨
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Follow

Summers at Kilruddery House are straight out of a storybook ✨

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
4/6
Counting down the days til I’m reunited with my EF Morocco girlies, cruising the Nile in Egypt 🐪 🌴 @efultimatebreak just dropped 20+ new trips… AND they’re on sale now! I’m eyeing up that new trip to Jordan because, well 👀 Why travel with EF? ★ You’ll make new friends! EF trips are for ages 18-35. ★ You can book now, pay later! Interest-free payment plans mean you can pay over time ★ And finally, just show up! Take the stress out of travel - everything is planned for you. Check out the link in my bio to get booking ✈️ #ultimateambassador #thisisultimate
•
Follow

Counting down the days til I’m reunited with my EF Morocco girlies, cruising the Nile in Egypt 🐪 🌴

@efultimatebreak just dropped 20+ new trips… AND they’re on sale now! I’m eyeing up that new trip to Jordan because, well 👀

Why travel with EF?

★ You’ll make new friends! EF trips are for ages 18-35.

★ You can book now, pay later! Interest-free payment plans mean you can pay over time

★ And finally, just show up! Take the stress out of travel – everything is planned for you.

Check out the link in my bio to get booking ✈️ #ultimateambassador #thisisultimate

2 years ago
View on Instagram |
5/6
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
Wherefore art thou Romeo? Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love - how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late. When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one. And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town. It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said. So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope. I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write. I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet. The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences. So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two. Love, Juliet ♥️
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Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Letters to Juliet has long been one of my favourite romantic comedies. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for Shakespeare. At its heart, it is a story about love – how it can be found when it is least expected, how it is never too late.

When I visited Verona last year, I had no idea that the letters were real. That they weren’t a clever Hallmark concept conceived in a Hollywood writers room, but that people flock annually to Verona to leave their heart on a slip of paper, sharing their own stories of romance and heartache. That these letters are collected by a real guild of volunteers who call themselves the secretaries of Juliet, who answer every single one.

And that the club opens their doors to those interested. Determined to have my own Letters to Juliet moment, I reached out asking if I could stop by when I was in town.

It took quite a while to find the secretaries’ headquarters, tucked away on a cobbled lane in the old city. I was met by a kind woman who immediately handed me a box full of recent English letters. “Answer anything you like, whatever speaks to you,” she said.

So I sat down at the table and began to read. It was surreal, to look through a window at a complete stranger’s life. They wrote of their joy in the love they had found. They wrote of their pain in the love they had lost. They opened up to Juliet, sharing their most intimate thoughts. Asking for advice, offering words of hope.

I knew as I read that there were some experiences I could not answer, some better left for someone who could. But I saw myself in some of the letters. I chose one, picked up a piece of stationary and began to write.

I don’t know if my words will resonate, if they gave the advice that person was looking for. I suppose, in a way, I wrote what I needed to hear. But there was no feeling in the world like signing that letter Juliet.

The immortal weight of that moniker I’m not sure I deserved. But perhaps we are all Juliet in a way. The hopeless romantics who seek to share the world through the most human of experiences.

So if you’re visiting Verona, don’t forget the Club di Giulietta. Maybe even answer a letter or two.

Love, Juliet ♥️

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