8 Steps to Happiness

1. never forget: social media is just an optical illusion. I'm aware that my life may seem all rosy from (edited + curated) photos. I choose to share only the beautiful things, because life hands us enough offline tragedies and beautiful things inspire and uplift me. And I hope they do the same for you. But there's a lot of pain too. And beauty. The two often seem intertwined. What I'm saying, is, social media is an incomplete portrayal.

2. happiness is a skill, not a given. I hope my 30s will be my best and most fruitful decade yet.

3. People say travel when you're old. I say, travel while you're young and agile because getting old is a privilege, not a guarantee. Travel is expensive if you do expensive things. I've worked it out where it's way cheaper (and more interesting) than being at home. You have to be inventive, flexible, and open to just about every kind of experience. Finding someone who will want to pursue this type of lifestyle with you is rare and lucky. Squat toilets and bucket showers and beds Velcroed to the wall are not for everyone. (Aaron is a trooper.)

4: my view on this may change as my wrinkles deepen but for now: "please don't retouch my wrinkles. It took me so long to earn them." -Anna Magnani

5. Love and friendships keep me alive. No matter how old we get, we always miss our parents - simultaneously crave and reject family. I've spent the past year circling the globe to get in touch with my roots, to find and meet my parents' friends from Jakarta to Los Angeles. I've re-tuned my internal compass. I've spread dad's ashes and collected old letters and photos and memories - and some odd objects, including an antique penis shield my father once gifted a friend. My suitcase is filled with all kinds of beautiful, strange things. So is my soul.

6. Don't be afraid to feel. Our minds are the true danger, how we filter and interpret and judge the feelings. Going from sensation to feeling to thought can be so automatic that we feel like we have no control or choice - but we do. Turn the mind in your favor.

7. Life's too short to be a smug asshole. Just don't be one. At some point, your character becomes a choice. We all have those people in our lives who measure success or worthiness based on their skewed value system. It's easy to hit a home run with a lead off 3rd base.

8. Take more risks. Evolve. Face fears (still working on this one). Live and let live.

THE WORLD'S FIRST AND ONLY AIRPORT TATTOO PARLOR

During my layover at ARN airport in Stockholm, Sweden, I stepped into a coffee shop that doubles as a tattoo studio. Nothing beats a good travel tattoo to mark an amazing trip. I considered getting some work done but my layover was too short.

Salong Betong studio's on-call artists are among Sweden's most reputable tattooists. Opening up shop in Stockholm's airport was a savvy move, since the brand is already popular with Swedes and since Sweden is the most heavily tattooed nation in the world per capita. One-third of its young residents are tattooed, perhaps because a law prevents employees from workplace discrimination, allowing even its most pierced and tattooed citizens to work anywhere with little stigma.

Photorealistic tattoos, typical of Swedish tattoo art

Not only does Tro Hop & Kaffee make tattoos, but it's a full-on coffee shop with delicious fair-trade roasts, apparel and fun knick-knacks. To boot, a percentage of proceeds funds Maskrosbarn, a charity which helps children whose parents suffer from alcoholism.

This airport tattoo parlor, in Terminal 5, allows travelers to spend long layovers getting fresh ink - perhaps the most unique and personal airport souvenir ever!

Ocean of love,

-Naomi

THE MOST INSPIRED CAFE IN ROME

There's no better place to write indoors than an excellent cafe bookstore, with Internet (for research) - or better - with endless stacks of books to peruse, and coffee or wine for when the writing begins to jam.

Sant'eustachio arguably has the best espresso in Rome, and Cafe Greco the most classic ambiance, but Liberia Invito alla Lettura Roma is the best place to write. Decoupage tabletops, classical music and tufted, weathered leather nailhead couches make for the perfect writing situation.

The tall walls are decorated in shelves that house thousands of books, old movie posters, vintage suitcases, framed newspaper clippings and weird dolls. Rusted tin cars, 1950s kitchen appliances, hair dryers and yellowed books spilled in cabinets. Strings of colorful kerosene lanterns, vinyl records, 45s and chandeliers line one wall. Pots and pans, and various musical instruments, randomly hang from another corner, along with a couple of flapper dresses (perhaps for sale, or perhaps the cashier's change of clothes). There are old radios, a mismosh of rotary phones and bins filled with worn postcards, some written by strangers from past eras that remain unstamped, and unsent.

The oddities, the old magazines, first editions, espresso kicks, access to wine and petit fours, the bikes, movie posters, kitschy souvenirs, and the random ladder leading to a tiny balcony of books - all belong in this strange world, and perhaps nowhere else.

What piques my curiosity most are the shelves upon shelves of purely decorative, not-for-sale collectibles.

But there's a rhythm to the madness. Perhaps this is why Liberia Invito alla Lettura Roma spurs my imagination to float in and out of the strangest places, and enables me to escape myself and to embrace and leverage my own chaos.

Next time you go to Rome, be sure you come here and experience it for yourself. It's centrally located on Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle II.

Oceans of love,

-Naomi

ROME'S SECRET KEYHOLE

I heard about a secret keyhole in Rome. I heard it was the best peep show in town.

Captain Greggles told me: "It will be the most remarkable thing you'll ever do in your life."

How could I pass that up.

So I walked up Aventino Hill around sunset, past Circo Massimo and followed Via di Santa Sabina, past a few churches, past an old man selling roasted chestnuts outside of a fortified panoramic garden with orange groves (il giardino degli aranci, which hosts outdoor films in the summer), and past another garden until I reached a nondescript green door with a tiny bronze keyhole. On the other side of the door is property belonging to The Knights of Malta, a sovereign state.

I pressed my left eye to the hole and saw a secret garden with manicured bushes perfectly framing The Vatican against a pink sky. I thought my eye was playing tricks on me.

I could see three countries at once: Italy, The Knights of Malta, and Vatican City. Such an unexpected, breathtaking experience from a one-inch hole.

Definitely the best game of peek-a-boo I've ever played!

Sunset photo from il giardino degli aranci, by Aaron Purkey

Photos by Aaron Purkey

Oceans of Love,

-Naomi

CENTRALE MONTEMARTINI: A MUSEUM INSIDE A MIDCENTURY POWERPLANT

Today's mission: find the thermoelectric power plant turned art gallery that houses hundreds of ancient Roman and Greek statues!

It started with a whisper left below one of our Instagram posts: "Go to Centrale Montemartini. Ancient white marble statues housed in an old power plant."

The sun was beginning to set and we'd just woken up. We'd decided: No maps. No phones. (IMO: Travel is a lot of fun without guidebooks or GPS. Half the joy of traveling is in the unexpected discoveries.) After a few cobble-stoned blocks, we reached the river, and walked along Lungotevere as the Corot sky painted itself in pastel blankets, pink, then orange, against the backdrop of Rome's ancient and achingly beautiful buildings: golden domes, arc bridges, castles and trees.

Millions of birds darted in the sky, swooping in and out of massive visual poems, so collaborative and so complicated. Then they landed, by the thousands, on treetops along the river, squawked and pooped. Cars so covered in bird shit you could barely make out the color or brand. Romans were easy to spot, equipped with their umbrellas and cardboard in anticipation of the birds' rhythm and rain.

We walked and walked and walked until night fell; 2 or so hours passed until we reached a somewhat desolate, graffiti-bombed area. Military guards with machine guns guarded the city. Rome, like most of Europe, is on high terrorist alert right now. We walked to a dead end, past some guys with mean smiles and black teeth, turned around. A gate was open. We entered past it. Inside was a complex with a textile shop, a health food store, a trendy bar and a tiny skating rink -- seemingly out of nowhere! We walked through it and into an ivy-covered, overgrown hilly area I recognized. We'd reached Coyote, an outdoor nightclub my friends and I frequented 10, 9, 8 years ago. We were in Testaccio now, I told Aaron. We walked for another half hour or so and until we reached Centrale Montemartini.

They gave us free tickets and told us to have a blast, since the museum was about to close in 45 minutes or so. We had the old power plant to ourselves. Inside, hundreds of ancient statues and busts, excavated in the ancient Roman horti, were displayed, starkly, in front of massive industrial machinery. The contrast of white marble against dark valves, gauges, pipes and meters blew my mind. Art and the machines!

We got on a bus to a stop near Trastevere. I had to get the Cacio e Pepe from Roma Sparita, world-famous creamy Tagliolini pasta served on a homemade Parmesan shell (13 Euros). Andrea, our waiter, told us that Anthony Bourdain had covered the dish. Bourdain said Roma Sparita's Cacio e Pepe "could be the greatest thing in the history of the world." It was one of the best meals I'd had in a long time, in an adorable no-frills setting.

Then, we walked for an hour or so, until we reached our apartment on Vicolo Orbitelli and had a nice glass of Montepulciano wine to cap off the day (and hopefully get an earlier start tomorrow).

Oceans of love,

-Naomi