Euro Summer, Archived
I’ve always dreamed of spending a summer moving through different cities, collecting places and experiences along the way. Somehow, in a bit of synchronicity, the summer the world gathered for the World Cup became the summer I finally got my Euro summer.
First stop: Lisbon, Portugal.
Lisbon introduced itself in color. Bright buildings stacked along winding streets, patterned tiles covering façades, and architecture that made even an ordinary walk feel worth slowing down for. And then there were the hills.
Yes, the hills are exactly as serious as everyone says they are. When they tell you to pack your most comfortable shoes for Lisbon, this is not a cute travel suggestion. Listen to them.
One of my favorite experiences was taking a traditional tile class, where I got to learn some of the history behind the azulejos that seem to appear everywhere throughout the city. I’d admired Lisbon’s famous tiles in photos before the trip, but learning the history behind them while actually creating one gave me a different appreciation for all of those colorful façades I’d been stopping to look at.
We ventured outside the city too, making our way toward Sintra and its Moorish castles. The journey took us through Cascais, where the scenery shifted to breathtaking stretches of coastline and beachfront views—the kind that make you forget, temporarily, that you were supposed to be headed somewhere else.
But one of the highlights came once we were back in Lisbon.
Weeks before the trip, during one of my pre-travel YouTube rabbit holes, I found Mario, a local tuk-tuk driver whose passion for Portugal immediately stood out to me. Naturally, I booked him.
For three and a half hours, Mario drove us through Lisbon while telling us stories about the city and Portugal’s history. His enthusiasm was infectious. What could have felt like a long tour flew by as we climbed through neighborhoods, passed landmarks and learned the stories behind places we otherwise might have simply photographed and kept moving.
And Lisbon is a city made for that kind of curiosity—wandering, looking up, asking questions, taking the long way simply because something caught your eye.
So explore, we did.
Preferably in sensible shoes.
And rarely without a pastel de nata somewhere nearby.
From Portugal, we caught a flight to Barcelona.
This was my second time visiting the city, so instead of retracing my first trip, we made a point to switch up the itinerary and experience a different side of Barça.
At the top of the list was La Sagrada Família.
We booked a guided tour to learn more about Antoni Gaudí and the history behind what has become his longest-running—and still unfinished—masterpiece. Of course, I’d seen the basilica countless times in photographs, but photographs don’t quite prepare you for the contrast between its exterior and what’s waiting inside.
From the outside, it feels almost imposing: towering spires, intricate carvings and Gothic-inspired stonework with so much detail that you could probably circle the building several times and still find something you missed.
Then you walk inside.
Suddenly, there’s light everywhere.
Massive stained-glass windows wash the interior in shifting color, reflecting across columns and surfaces in a way that makes the entire space feel alive. The heaviness of the exterior gives way to something bright, airy and almost otherworldly. I was completely in awe.
And perhaps my favorite part is knowing that it still isn't finished.
There’s something fascinating about visiting a monument this significant while its story is technically still being written. It also gives me the perfect excuse to return to Barcelona again someday and see what has changed.
The other star of Barcelona?
The food.
We found a restaurant near our Airbnb that was so good we shamelessly went back for dinner the following night. There were far too many restaurants in Barcelona for us to justify eating at the same place twice, but apparently we weren’t interested in justification. We simply couldn't leave Barça knowing we had only eaten there once.
And while we're on the subject of food, my family has accidentally created a Barcelona tradition of our own.
Two years ago, during my first visit, someone recommended that I try Joosy Gastro, a Jamaican restaurant in Barcelona. The food was that good, so when we knew we were coming back, returning wasn't really up for debate. Joosy had officially made the itinerary.
Walking in feels a little like stepping into Grandma's house—if Grandma happened to live in Barcelona. Beautiful Black art and portraits fill the space, food arrives in wooden bowls, and there's a warmth to the restaurant that immediately feels familiar.
This time, there were more of us traveling together, which came with one very important advantage: more people meant more plates. We ordered several dishes and shared everything, giving me the chance to work my way through much more of the menu than I had on my first visit.
There's something special about traveling all the way across the world and finding a place that can still give you a sense of home. Being welcomed back, sharing the experience with more of my family, supporting a Black-owned business abroad, and realizing we'd somehow turned one recommendation from two years ago into a tradition made returning even sweeter.
At this point, I don't think I can go to Barcelona without going to Joosy.
And I'm perfectly fine with that.
On our final night, we wandered through the Gothic Quarter and stumbled across something we hadn't planned at all: street opera.
We stopped as these incredible voices began carrying through the square. Angelic is the only word I can think of to describe them. It was one of those travel moments where you realize the thing you'll remember most wasn't on the itinerary.
Quite frankly, I would have happily paid to hear them perform inside an opera house.
Instead, the universe gave us front-row seats for free.
And with that as Barcelona's final little gift to us, it was time for the next part of the summer.
We boarded the ship.
After a week and a half of walking miles upon miles, climbing hills, collecting memories—and a few blisters along the way—I had officially learned which shoes in my suitcase were actually comfortable and which ones had simply been pretending.
It was finally time for the vacation part of the vacation.
We boarded Virgin Voyages' Valiant Lady, and from start to finish, sailing became one of the highlights of the entire journey.
I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the room, but I was pleasantly surprised by how spacious it felt. Every bit of space seemed intentional, with clever storage that somehow made unpacking and settling in feel easy. We booked a Sea Terrace cabin with a balcony and hammock, which quickly became one of my favorite parts of the room.
At night, we'd leave the balcony door open and fall asleep to the sound of the ocean and the cool breeze coming through the cabin.
Absolute bliss.
After spending the first half of the trip constantly on the move, there was something especially satisfying about unpacking my suitcase, waking up somewhere new without having to repack it, and letting the destination come to me for a change.
The ship also gave me exactly the balance I wanted: party when I wanted to party, relax when I wanted to relax.
Outside of the destinations themselves, some of my favorite moments were surprisingly simple—taking classes onboard, wandering around the ship, and, most importantly, eating.
And whew... the food.
When I say everything was delicious, I mean everything. From the sit-down restaurants and more elevated dining experiences to grabbing something casual at The Galley, there was never a moment where eating felt like an afterthought. In fact, deciding where we were going to eat next became part of the day's entertainment.
Then nighttime gave the ship an entirely different personality.
Between the bars, casino, clubs and parties, there was always somewhere to go, something happening or someone to meet. You could spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing near the water and, a few hours later, be dressed for a completely different version of the day.
Which brings me to another unexpected luxury of cruising:
I could wear my heels again.
After Europe had thoroughly humbled several pairs of shoes in my suitcase, the ship became my opportunity to dress every day like I had somewhere important to be. Tall heels? Absolutely. Outfit changes? Why not?
Because for once, I could wear the impractical shoe without calculating how many miles I might accidentally walk in it.
And if my feet changed their mind?
My room was only a hop, skip and an elevator ride away.
It was the perfect little floating intermission between exploring cities—except this intermission had restaurants, cocktails, ocean views, nightlife and a hammock waiting for me at the end of the night.
And then, of course, there were the stops...
Each port gave us roughly twelve hours to explore, with one exception: our final stop, Ibiza, where we were given a full twenty-four.
It was enough time to get a taste of each place—not necessarily enough to know it, but certainly enough to leave with an impression.
Palma de Mallorca
Mallorca was cutesy.
That's genuinely the word that comes to mind.
The part of the island we explored felt like the setting for a little romantic getaway: charming streets, beautiful scenery and an ocean breeze that seemed determined to remind everyone to slow down and enjoy the simple things.
One thing I knew I wanted to see while there were the famous Mallorca pearls. The island has a long association with pearl craftsmanship, so naturally, I had to investigate for myself. It felt like one of those small details that belongs specifically to a place—the kind of souvenir experience that makes traveling through different cities so interesting.
Mallorca didn't need to scream for my attention.
She was pretty, breezy and perfectly content being exactly that.
Valencia
Valencia felt more intentional.
Here, we ventured to the Palau de les Arts Reina Sofía, where I found myself paying just as much attention to the building as anything happening inside it.
The architecture throughout the City of Arts and Sciences is striking—futuristic, sculptural and almost surreal against the surrounding water and open sky. I kept looking at the shapes, lines and scale of everything around me.
There was something about Valencia that reminded me of somewhere else, although even now I can't quite put my finger on where.
Maybe that's an observation I'll have to finish on another visit.
Cannes
Then came Cannes.
And Cannes gave me inspiration.
Immediately.
The people were well dressed. The shopping was luxury. Beautiful cars moved through the streets while yacht after yacht lined the waterfront, creating the kind of scenery that makes you stop pretending you aren't looking.
Everything felt polished.
Even the weather seemed to understand the assignment.
There were little reminders of the entertainment industry everywhere, including the names and handprints of actors and filmmakers embedded along the walkways. We even stumbled across a production filming while we were there, adding another layer to a place already synonymous with cinema.
Cannes felt strangely familiar to me.
Like Los Angeles—but with richer taste.
The sunshine, coastline, entertainment, beautiful people and obvious displays of wealth all felt reminiscent of L.A., but Cannes seemed to package it differently. More concentrated. More polished. More Riviera.
Of all our short stops, this was the place that left me with the greatest sense of possibility. Twelve hours was enough to introduce us.
Definitely not enough to satisfy my curiosity.
Ibiza
And then there was Ibiza.
Virgin saved our longest port stay for last: twenty-four hours.
Naturally, we used them responsibly.
We partied until sunrise.
Ibiza nightlife is almost difficult to explain because at a certain point you simply have to accept that the entire island has collectively agreed that nighttime operates under a different set of rules.
We made our way through a gigantic club, moving between different rooms while DJs played seemingly every subgenre of house and EDM imaginable. Every room had its own sound, its own crowd and its own energy.
And just when I thought I understood Ibiza nightlife, I went to the bathroom.
There was a DJ in there.
Yes.
A toilet DJ.
Imagine walking into a shared restroom, men and women disappearing into their respective stalls, except instead of generic bathroom music playing quietly through a speaker, there is an actual DJ positioned in the middle of everything, providing a soundtrack to the experience.
I wish I had a more sophisticated way to describe it.
I do not.
There was a DJ. In the bathroom.
And perhaps the most important context here is that I'm originally from Las Vegas. Nightclubs are not foreign territory to me. I've seen my fair share of elaborate nightlife concepts.
Ibiza still managed to make me say, Well... this is new.
We eventually emerged from the club to daylight, having successfully partied our way into the next morning.
Exhausted? Absolutely.
But somewhere between the music, sunrise and that bathroom DJ, I realized Ibiza had accomplished exactly what Ibiza was supposed to do:
Give me a story I couldn't have gotten anywhere else.
Some Places You Leave. Some Places You Keep.
By the end of the trip, my suitcase was heavier, my feet were tired, my camera roll was ridiculous, and somehow I was already thinking about where I wanted to go next.
I had spent weeks moving through places I had once only imagined visiting—walking unfamiliar streets, learning histories I hadn't known, eating things worth ordering twice, admiring art and architecture, dancing until sunrise and occasionally discovering that even a bathroom can have a DJ.
More than anything, this trip reminded me why I love travel.
There is so much life happening outside of the little corner of the world we occupy every day.
Different languages. Different architecture. Different music pouring from cars and storefronts. Different ways of eating, dressing, celebrating, resting and simply existing.
Sometimes you have to leave what's familiar long enough to remember just how big the world is.
And while photographs capture what a place looked like, I've always believed music has a way of preserving what a moment felt like.
Whenever I travel, I pay attention to the soundtrack developing around me—the songs playing while getting dressed, something I Shazam in a restaurant, music coming from a passing car, a DJ set, a song someone introduces me to, or simply whatever I happened to have on repeat while looking out the window.
Those songs become souvenirs too.
So for Euro Summer, Archived… I curated three mixes from the journey:
PORTU—GLOW Warm, sun-soaked and easy. The soundtrack to Lisbon light, tiled buildings, coastal drives and wandering without needing to be anywhere too quickly. Music that feels like golden hour stretched a little longer.
OPN—WATER The exhale. Made for endless blue, ocean air, balcony mornings and watching land disappear behind you. Dreamy, fluid and just relaxed enough to make you forget what day it is…the sound of being somewhere between where you've been and where you're going.
EURO— STEP The energy picks back up. A collection made for European nights, getting dressed with somewhere to go, house and electronic sounds, crowded rooms, late dinners and dancing until the night quietly becomes morning.
I think everyone should make a soundtrack when they travel Add the songs you discover. Add what you couldn't stop playing. Add the song from that one night. Add the one that was playing when nothing particularly important happened, but somehow the moment felt perfect anyway.
Because months—or even years—later, you'll press play. And suddenly you're back.
The ocean breeze comes through the balcony door again. The stained glass catches the light.
The streets are unfamiliar. Your feet probably hurt. And for the length of a song, you're there.