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I spent a hot summer month on a smallholding in rural Malta, living and working alone without electricity, internet, hot water, or a bathroom. This was part of a volunteer exchange, swapping a few hours of garden work for a place to sleep and food to eat. In many ways, my time in Malta was like stepping through a portal 50 years into the past. When I look back, I can still clearly see the amber glow of candles and kerosene lamps, the shadows of their flames flickering against the walls on balmy nights as I curled up with a book and spiced tea.

There is an obnoxious ringing I can’t seem to get rid of. I swat around aimlessly until finally realize that my alarm is going off. It’s 6 a.m. on a Friday in Munich, Germany. I am six hours ahead of my friends and family. Right now, knowing them, they are in my hometown slamming shots and drinking brewskis living for the weekend while I am struggling to get off a thin twin mattress that is next to my friend's bed. The sun is finally peeking through the clouds and I am still struggling to wake up, find my keys, and get ready, You would think after backpacking Europe this whole get up and move on a moments notice would be routine for me, but trust me it’s not. I jump in the shower and head out the door soon after.