I’ve always wanted this blog to be more than just a list of places I’ve been. I want it to be a collection of moments, lessons, and snapshots of who I was at that time in my life. Something I can look back on years from now and feel proud of, not just for where I went, but for how those experiences shaped me.
This trip felt like exactly that.
Friday, April 10
I worked my last night shift in the ICU…hopefully ever.
It felt surreal walking out of that chapter of my life and straight into another — a late flight to San Diego and 2 weeks off ahead. Honestly, what better way to celebrate?
This trip wasn’t just about the destination. It was about who I was going to see.
Nine years ago, while on a travel nurse contract in LA, I met Emmi, my Finnish friend, while playing beach volleyball at the Santa Monica pier. We became roommates, then lifelong friends. Over the years, we’ve crossed oceans to stay in each other’s lives — I visited her in Finland, she came to my wedding.
And now, she was researching / teaching for a month at UC San Diego and invited me to visit.
I arrived late Friday night after a delayed flight and a long wait for my rental car, the usual travel chaos. We hugged quickly, both tired but excited, and went to bed knowing a full weekend was ahead.
Saturday, April 11
We started the day slow, with breakfast and a view at Caroline’s. Ocean air, good food, and nowhere to be but here.
We walked along the beach in La Jolla Cove before heading to Windansea Beach, where we stayed longer than we should have, ending up a little too sunburned, but completely content. Watching surfers, spotting seals, taking in the endless ocean… it was one of those moments where time doesn’t matter.
Lunch at El Pescador Fish Market might’ve been one of my favorite meals of the trip—fresh fish tacos, shrimp, and a watermelon lemonade I will absolutely be dreaming about.
That night, we went to a women’s pro volleyball match to watch the San Diego Mojo. They won in a five-set thriller, and somehow we ended up with free Mojo shirts—Emmi was amused, saying that would never happen in Finland.
After the game, we went back to her apartment, exhausted in the best way, knowing the next day would be something special.
Sunday, April 12 — Then & Now
We woke up early and drove to Santa Monica in the pouring rain.
Somewhere along the drive, “Let Me Love You” by DJ Snake came on, and as we exited the 10 onto Lincoln Blvd, it felt like we had slipped back into 2017. Then we turned onto Main Street, our old neighborhood, and suddenly it wasn’t just a memory anymore.
It was real.
We walked everywhere we used to go—Main Street, Shoops Market (bacon pancakes!), Ocean Park, the volleyball courts where we spent hours, and eventually the Santa Monica pier… the exact place where we met and exchanged numbers nine years ago.
We ate at the same Mexican restaurant at the end of the pier, ordered tableside guac and margaritas like we used to, and just… sat in it.
The nostalgia hit harder than I expected.
To cope with our emotions, we walked around the 3rd street promenade like we used to then visited our favorite ice cream shop in Venice Beach, Salt & Straw. To get there, we took our first ever Waymo ride and it was weird but a cool experience!
Later, we made our way back to the beach and sat in silence for a while. No distractions (well, until some obnoxious teenage girls showed up), just the ocean, the breeze, the salt air, the sand beneath us. It felt like a kind of meditation I had forgotten about.
And honestly, I got emotional.
Nine years ago, I was 23. I had just left a small town, started my nursing career, and moved to California knowing no one. I was scared, lonely, and unsure of who I was. Volleyball was the only thing that grounded me.
But I did it anyway.
Sitting there, I found myself wishing I could go back and hug that version of me. Tell her how proud I am. Tell her that everything she was afraid of would lead to a life she couldn’t even imagine yet.
That move… it changed everything.
Everything then felt so uncertain. But looking back now, I can see it so clearly—it was just the beginning.
The beginning of every adventure I’ve written about so far.
The beginning of saying yes to things that scared me.
The beginning of discovering who I was outside of my comfort zone.
The beginning of a friendship that would last a lifetime.
Travel became more than just going somewhere new—it became how I learned about myself. Each place, each experience, each person I met added another layer. Confidence, independence, resilience… things I don’t think I could have fully developed if I had stayed where it was comfortable.
That version of me didn’t know it yet, but she was building the foundation for a life full of stories.
And sitting there on the beach, nine years later, I realized something else—the people you meet along the way become part of that story too.
We ended the day visiting our old apartment and landlord, John Patrick McCormack—a retired actor you might recognize in some movies. We met his wife Maris, their dog Africa, caught up, walked through their beautiful garden, and listened to stories from their travels. It felt like reconnecting with a piece of the past I didn’t know I needed.
The drive back to San Diego was quieter. Reflective.
Full.
Monday, April 13
My last full day in San Diego felt different… in the best way.
The city itself feels calmer than LA, and we leaned into that.
We had a late breakfast overlooking La Jolla, watching sea lions (and yes… smelling them too). There’s something oddly fascinating about them, like ocean dogs just living their best lives.
We wandered along the cliffs, then headed to Girard Street where we stumbled into Vuori—fittingly, “vuori” means mountain in Finnish. I couldn’t not buy something, so now I have a pair of buttery-soft pants that will always remind me of this trip, and my Finnish friend. (Thanks to Emmi, I finally know how to pronounce the brand correctly)
Next, we had lunch at The Taco Stand and was worth every minute of the 60 ish minute wait.
Then we explored Balboa Park, wandering through gardens filled with plants I never see back home. It reminded me how much travel expands your sense of what’s “normal.”
We ended the day at Sunset Cliffs, determined not to miss another California sunset.
And it delivered.
Watching the sun disappear behind the ocean, surfers silhouetted in the distance, I had this thought:
I don’t know how many times in my life I’ll get to see the sun set over the ocean… but I know it won’t ever feel like enough.
So I won’t ever take it for granted.
On the way back, we stopped at Costco because gas was over $6 a gallon and Emmi needed groceries, but more importantly, Emmi needed to experience Costco. She was amazed. Apparently, Finland does not have anything like it.
After grabbing dinner, then before bed, we realized we forgot her groceries in my rental car. It would have been devastating to take all her groceries with me to the airport in 8 hours.
One of those small, imperfect moments that just made the trip feel more real.
Conclusion — More Than Just a Trip
This wasn’t just a weekend getaway.
It was a reunion.
A reflection.
A reminder of where I started… and how far I’ve come.
Travel has a way of doing that. It brings you back to yourself in ways you don’t expect — and, if you’re lucky, it gives you friendships that last long after the trip ends.
Sometimes, the most meaningful journeys aren’t about discovering new places… they’re about returning to old ones—and seeing them, and yourself, differently.
“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. But that’s okay. The journey changes you.”
— Anthony Bourdain
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