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several other American women, I was steamed,    tle green sea turtles. If the lore associated with shell
            whacked with a leafy birch broom, splashed with ice  leis has any merit, I’ll be back in Bora again one day.
            water, enveloped in more steam, then dispatched  Can’t wait.
            into the frigid river. My reward: hot spiked tea, cake  The small hand-woven pine needle basket I
            and new friendships.                            bought from its Tarahumara maker in Mexico’s Cop-
               Another recent addition is a delicate cluster of  per Canyon, brings to mind the hundreds of shy, but
            tiny red cornicelli that I found at an outdoor market  incredibly resilient indigenous people who still live,
            in Naples. The twisted horn-shaped charms look a  and raise their families, in primitive caves tucked
            lot like miniature chili peppers – but in Italy, they’re  into the cliff faces of canyon walls. “My family has
            atalismanwornforgoodluck.Theybringtomindthe     lived here for many generations,” one young Tarahu-
            glorious good fortune I had traveling Italy for a  mara told me, through an interpreter. “We try to live
            monthlatelastyearwiththreeclosewomenfriends.    isolated.”
            Isavorgelato-frostedmemoriesofoperainPalermo,      I always find a sturdy branch for the miniature
            sunsetsinVeniceandProcida–alwaysaccompanied     black taxi I brought home from one of the most
            by hearty Italian red and local cheeses – and even  bustling cities in the world – and perhaps, my fa-
            somewhat fond recollections of the breathtaking  vorite. It’s from London, of course, where learned,
            (literally) 962 steps straight up we climbed each  classically trained drivers still ferry passenger in a
            evening to our Airbnb in Cinque Terre.          shrinking pool of those iconic cabs. London is full of
               A few branches away, I’ve draped a lei, made of  history, royalty, first-rate theater – and increasingly
            seashells, that an islander placed around my neck on  exquisite cuisine. But that’s a whole other story..
            my last night in Bora Bora. Seeing it transports me
            tothewarmceruleanlagoonwhereIswamwithgen-





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