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As an unhealthy relationship came to a painful end, I found myself struggling through dark waters. I was unsure of who I was. Cord cut, untethered from the self I was before, I was flailing. Saving grace came to me late one night in the form of a cheap plane ticket to Europe. I would begin a 3-month solo trip (yes, me- solo and quite frankly, terrified of being alone) that would begin in Spain and end in Italy. Meticulously planning the details of my adventure became a hobby that I clung to, and in the weeks leading up to the trip I knew every city, bus route, and every allocated 7-euro lunch stop I’d be making. Now fast forward to June, just shy of a month into my trip. I had made it to Italy. I sat in the sun at a friendly hostel near Venice, unaware that change was unfolding like the summer buds on the climbing jasmine outside. As I forked down my gnocchi and pesto for breakfast, a stranger scooted onto the bench beside me. We began the ritual of exchanging our respective travel stories when Brian, an easy-going American living abroad, told me of his recent travels to the often-overlooked country of Slovenia. He offered high praise for the Balkan country, and as I went about my day I couldn’t shake the image he had painted of the charming country with crisp air and wonders both natural and crafted by man. In a moment of courage, I said goodbye to my months of planning. Thirty-six hours later, I stepped off of a bus bound for the capital Ljubljana. I was greeted by sweeping red roofed buildings, impressive yet quaint, and the bright chimes of bicycle bells as people young and old peddled the medieval streets along the central canal. When the sun dipped down that evening, I set out to wander the winding streets of the historic city. I was meandering through a less trafficked area when I began to hear the hushed thrum of music. The sound amplified as I walked and curiosity propelled me forward. Soon I caught glimpses of the warm glow of lights bouncing off the cotton candy walls of the buildings ahead. The scene unfolded as I made my way into the middle of a new street, and was suddenly enveloped in a flood of movement and limbs. The source of the music materialized to my right, and as the upright bass thumped and the saxophone sang through night, couple after couple ecstatically twirled under the twinkling of the lights strung above. I couldn’t help but break into a smile when I finally stopped and let myself truly take it all in- a full block closed off for a city swing dance. At the edge of the crowd, a toothless grin peered at me as a man about the age of my grandfather extended a sun weathered hand to me. We laughed through a brief and fragmented conversation as I tried and failed to reject his invitation, though words became unnecessary as we spun around and around within the throng of people. With each new dance, I felt pebbles of certainty settle into my stomach as I realized that I was going to be okay. The unforeseen had led me to this journey, this small country cradled by the Julian Alps, this closed off city block, and simultaneously to the rediscovery of joy within myself. Dancing with that smiling stranger, I felt the warmth of the human experience that connects us all somehow- no matter where, or when, or what you’re going through- and I learned something I carry with me now and always. Sometimes, the most beautiful moments come from letting go- of plans, of fears, and self-doubts- and leaving room for the unexpected to have the next dance.