Week

Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar.
Today: a senior analyst who makes $115,195 per year and who spends some of her money this week on more than a hundred dollar’s worth of sunscreen (and it was totally worth it!).

Editor’s Note: This is a follow-up diary. You can read the original diary here. Prices converted from EUR to USD via Google. Conversion rates correct at time of writing.

Occupation: Senior analyst
Industry: Health Insurance
Age: 31
Location: Raleigh, NC
Salary: $115,195 and a $16,089.34 bonus
Joint Income/Financial Setup: I moved in with my boyfriend last year, but I wouldn’t say we are a real “household” yet, because we do not share any accounts, so I prefer to list my salary only. Every month, I pay half the mortgage and utilities to him. All bills are in his name.
Assets: Checking: $5,597.95; checking opened for a bonus: $5,057.02; travel checking: $1,000.00; savings: $20,415.40; HYSA: $91,722.56; CD: $39,794.67; traditional IRA: $9,981.05; Roth IRA: $73,747.52; 401(k): $178,575.06; HSA: $2,000.08; HSA invested: $27,502.99; Venmo: $90.46.
Debt: $0
Paycheck Amount (Every 2 Weeks): Gross: $4,430.60; take home: $2,564.36.
Pronouns: she/her
Monthly Expenses
Housing Costs: Rent: $745.46. (my half). My boyfriend owns a two-bed, 2.5-bath townhome.
Loan Payments: $0
401(k): $1,595.02. Company matches 5%.
HSA: $216.66. Company contributes $1,000. I earn $700 for activities.
Health/Dental/Vision Insurance: $126.48
HYSA: $2051.48. Depends on deductions for donations.
Electric, Water/Sewage, Gas: ~$125 (my half).
Internet: $45 (my half).
Cell: $30.94
Netflix: $8.59
New York Times: $4.30. It jumped to $21.50 and I wanted to cancel, but they gave me a one-year promo.
PBS NC: $10
iCloud: $2.99
ZOLEO (Satellite Messenger): $4 to suspend. This month, I’ll use the $50 unlimited plan.
Compost: $24
Gym: $84. This month, I’ll pay $0 because I froze it.
Annual Expenses
Chase Sapphire Reserve: $550. Debating downgrading before the new eye-watering $795 annual fee.
Duolingo: $129 (split six ways).
Spotify: $40 (my sixth of a family plan).
Pottery Studio Membership: $100
Produce Box Membership: $25
Gaia GPS: $60. Comes with a subscription to Outside magazine, which I actually love reading.

Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
Absolutely. My mom has a master’s and MBA. My dad has a PhD and MBA. They started investing in a 529 when I was in elementary school, and it paid for my expensive Ivy League college. I also completed an online master’s in statistics through my state school, which my company reimbursed me $2,984 for (about a fifth of the cost).
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s) educate you about finances?
As I’ve grown older, we’re having more conversations about money. My maternal grandfather passed last year and it unearthed a lot of trauma on my mom’s side. My mom has been the one caring for my grandparents, both financially and in terms of managing their medical appointments, shopping for groceries, and even ordering an electric stair lift after my grandma had a fall. It was incredibly painful watching my aunts call my mom selfish for wanting to stop life-prolonging measures for my grandpa, something his care team advocated for, too. I spent many nights trying to comfort him as he choked on mucus, translating to Chinese whatever the nurses were doing to him, just in case he could hear. Now that grandpa has passed, the sisterly conversations have turned towards who will manage and pay for my grandma’s care.
What was your first job and why did you get it?
I was a peer tutor in sixth grade, making $1.50 an hour. It kickstarted a side job in peer tutoring, and I’ve logged more than 1000 hours since then.
Did you worry about money growing up?
Yes, during the Great Recession. My mom lost her job and had to accept a much lower-paying position. My dad also lost his job and moved to Maryland for two years for a new job. Their family business (in an industry unrelated to their day jobs) was in trouble. My dad started the family business to support his younger brothers, and my mom was roped in to do accounting and taxes. It was so stressful for them. I remember crying under the covers during their shouting matches at night, wondering if I was the thing trapping them together.
Do you worry about money now?
No, but I am more conscious than ever about how I spend it. Federal funding cuts hit a lot of things I care about, and donating makes me feel less powerless. I started an annual budget line item for charity and will budget $12,000 this year, mostly for California wildfire relief, Hurricane Helene recovery, and food banks. I also pick an environmental organization every month. Last month was the Mojave Desert Land Trust because Outside featured their conservation work for desert tortoises. My company matched $1,040. I’m investigating a donor-advised fund.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
At 26, when I got off my mom’s health insurance and got a job with benefits. I’d previously worked jobs without benefits, and I need health insurance to cover my expensive medication for an autoimmune disease. I know I can rely on my parents, but watching them stress over my grandparents made me want them to rely on me too.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain.
Yes. My parents paid for college. My mom also sent me $650 a month to cover rent when I was an unpaid research assistant and later, a full-time master’s student. Shortly after my grandpa passed, my grandma gave me $600 cash and two carefully handwritten notes, one in English and one in Chinese. She said it was a future wedding gift from her and grandpa. I cried.

Day One: Wednesday 

8:16 a.m. — I wake up to a demanding cat on my chest. My boyfriend L. and I have two cats, Fat Cat and Skinny Cat. Their automated feeders release kibble at 8 a.m., but Fat Cat horks his portion down in seconds and then tries to wheedle more out of us. I go downstairs and the cats follow, claws click-clicking on the LVP (luxury vinyl plank) we had installed last week. The new floor was an $8,000 splurge, but worth it. Fat Cat had urinary issues last year and we could never get the cat pee smell out of the carpet. I pull a banneton basket of sourdough out of the fridge and it jiggles obligingly. It’s ready to bake, so I put a Dutch oven in the oven to preheat.

9 a.m. — Breakfast is cereal and onboarding a new analyst. When I walk her through my OneNote of decoding corporate acronym soup and accessing databases, she says “This is great!”, so I love her already.

9:45 a.m. — Gotta run to physical therapy! The sourdough goes in a sling of parchment paper, and then into the smoking hot Dutch oven. I slash it with a lamé, spritz it with water, and chuck everything in the oven. I inform L. that he’s in charge of the bread while I’m gone. He looks panicked, hahaha!

10:15 a.m. — This is my last appointment before I backpack the Alta Via 1, a 78-mile high route in the Dolomites. I started PT recently when I noticed knee pain during barbell squats. My PT says it’s IT band issues and has prescribed exercises, which I confess to not doing as regularly as I should. The exercises have helped, but I’m still worried. I just did a four-day, 54-mile “training” trip in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and had to start taking ibuprofen on day two. The Alta Via 1 is both longer and steeper. (No co-pay on this appointment because I already hit my out-of-pocket max.)

11 a.m. — Back home and it smells like fresh bread. L. did a great job supervising! This loaf is tall and has a lovely, crackly crisp crust. Lunch is piping hot sourdough with salted butter.

11:15 a.m. — I get added to an impromptu work meeting, which runs long. Oof. Nothing is packed and I still have analyses due before I leave tonight. L. pokes his head in and nervously asks if he can help me pack? Or help me do anything? I tell him to fetch me bread. We feed the cats their wet food, which involves a quick zap in the microwave to make Fat Cat’s prescription food extra stinky so he will eat it. I crumble up a Cosequin chew on top of Fat Cat’s food, because not only does he have a special bladder, he has special hips.

1:30 p.m. — Off to FedEx to pick up printed maps and elevation profiles, which I’ve plotted myself. $6.18

2 p.m. — Back at work. I finish my portion of an analysis and wait for final review by another analyst. The rest of my afternoon is toggling between Teams messages with my coworker, and various packing spreadsheets. Spreadsheets rule! The last thing I pack is the sourdough.

6:15 p.m. — I do a final gear check, inject my medication, and bid the cats “Bye kitties, be good.” L. drops me at the airport and tells me to be good and come home in one piece. The lack of real food catches up to me, so I buy a Santa Fe chicken sandwich, which comes with melty sauce and heaps of avocado. I stuff the side of BBQ chips into the lid of my Osprey Kyte 46L pack. I also save the sandwich bag and napkins. Maybe I can compost them? $15.03

7:50 p.m. — Board the flight to IAD. My final destination is London, where I’ll meet two college friends with whom I’ll backpack the Alta Via 1.

10:33 p.m. — My next gate is crammed. I’m in the last group and have to shove my pack under the seat in front of me (please survive, BBQ chips). For the rest of the flight, I catch fragrant whiffs of fresh bread whenever I open my pack.

Daily Total: $21.21

Day Two: Thursday

11 a.m. — Welp. Didn’t sleep much. Dinner was cheesy lasagne and red wine, two irresponsible choices considering I have neither lactose nor alcohol tolerance. Good news, I took lactase. Bad news, it was a two-lactase problem. The flight attendant hands me a breakfast sandwich, which I smush alongside the BBQ chips in my pack lid. As I wait for my checked bag, I try to activate my eSIM. It doesn’t work, but I have offline maps.

11:30 a.m. — I take the tube to my friend S.’ flat. Our other friend K. picks me up at the station, and helps sleep-deprived me navigate S.’ confusing apartment complex. S. is out running errands, so I take a nap on her bed.

3 p.m. — S. is back! I hug her and then it’s straight back to bed. Me napping on S.’ bed was a regular occurrence in college, so she’s used to it.

4:30 p.m. — Ok, awake now. I unpack and proudly show S. how I’ve brought her the absolute best of America: sunflower seed butter, extra cheesy Cheez-Its, vegetable Better Than Bouillon, my sourdough, and two bowls that L. made in our pottery studio. One of the bowls cracked in transit! I text L. and he promises only bigger, better bowls to come. S. has composting, so I dispose of my sandwich bag and napkins. I also dig out the slightly crushed BBQ chips and airplane sandwich, which I absentmindedly eat while we discuss dinner plans. It’s unseasonably hot in London, and we should go out.

6 p.m. — K. wants Indian, so we go to Keep Chaating. We order pani puri with shots of mint and tamarind juice, chili paneer, dal tadka (lentil curry), hariyali sabzi (veggie curry), and veggie samosas. I’d like another round of pani puri, but I’m annoyingly full of airplane sandwich. We split the check. $34.84

7 p.m. — S. and I go watch My Neighbor Totoro at the theater while K. has to work. The play is super cute! I love the puppetry, especially the baby Totoro. S. bought tickets, so I cover drinks. Most people are getting ice cream as their intermission snack, but my recent dairy misadventures make me skip it. $6.20

9:30 p.m. — The play finishes and we take the tube home. I don’t see any charges when I tap to pay. Is the tube blessing me today?

10:30 p.m. — S. and I are home. I shower and love trying S.’ shampoo (strawberry) and body wash (tea tree and tingly). S. and K. get front row seats to me doing PT and painfully rolling out knots with a lacrosse ball. K. takes the futon while S. and I snuggle up in her double bed. Just kidding, it’s too hot to snuggle.

Daily Total: $41.04

Day Three: Friday

6:18 a.m. — I’m… Awake? I blink through a fog of jet lag and hear K. rustle to the bathroom. I have to go right after and am treated to a warm seat on this chilly morning. We left the patio door open, and poor K. says she slept cold. I’m glad I got to snuggle S. last night. I get back in bed and fall asleep again immediately.

8:30 a.m. — We’re all (varying states of) awake. S. takes out homemade granola and plain yogurt, while K. cuts strawberries, nectarines, and bananas. I toast some of my sourdough in S.’ silly long toaster (fits my bread perfectly), then butter it and sprinkle flaky Maldon salt on top. We eat quietly, occasionally resting our chins on each other’s shoulders or communicating through sleepy hums. No talk. Only eat. My phone buzzes and I see a charge for yesterday’s Tube rides. $22.45

10 a.m. — It’s still 4 a.m. to me, but K. and S. need coffee. The sun is shining and I am sneezing. Allergies?! I pop a Zyrtec from the tiny baggie of pills in my purse (does everyone have one of these?). S. steers us to her favorite café, where I order a flat white with oat milk. She has work, so K. and I split up to explore. $5.17

11 a.m. — First stop, Vodafone. Turns out my prepaid eSIM is from Vodafone Netherlands, so there’s nothing Vodafone UK can do. I get an eSIM for the next three days in London. The cheapest option is 75GB! $16.53

12 p.m. — Next stop, Boots. I pick up my sunscreen order: two 150mL tubes of La Roche-Posay Face & Body Hydrating Milk SPF50+, a 200mL Riemann P20 for Kids SPF50+, and a 50mL La Roche-Posay Invisible Fluid SPF50+. Europe has better UV filters and I want the absolute best sun protection on the trail. $106.46

12:30 p.m. — I return to the café and S. is still working. I get a canelé with pistachio cream and blueberries. We pick at the canelé (deliciously caramelized with a custardy center) while discussing jobs. I work insurance; she does machine learning and just got a big tech offer. We are not the same. K. texts that she’s hungry. I want to make dense bean salad, so we walk home. $5.44

1 p.m. — We buy cucumbers, mini mozz balls, chickpeas, and cannellini beans at Waitrose. S. pays. The cannellini beans are from a fancy brand and S. swears there’s nothing like bean juice straight from the jar. K. declines, but I take a swig. It’s beany, salty, and quite refreshing during this heatwave! S. and I finish the bean juice. K. is aghast. Lunch is bean salad and sourdough. Only a third of the loaf is left; it’s cute that K. and S. worried we wouldn’t finish the bread before leaving for Italy.

3 p.m. — K. has to start work, so I take another nap. My friends don’t call me “number one sleeper” for nothing.

7 p.m. — Wow, absolutely crushing it with these naps. K. wants to eat out. S. suggests we visit Battersea to watch the sunset along the Thames. K. has to bring her work laptop, and I’m more than happy to hot-spot her off my 75GB of data. We go to Roti King and order a Malaysian feast: chicken and mutton roti canai, char kuey teow (wok-fried rice noodles with shrimp), kangkung belacan (crunchy stems and silky leaves of water spinach stir-fried with shrimp paste), and two iced teh tarik (tea with condensed milk) for S. and me. $26.33

9 p.m. — It’s a beautiful summer evening, so we take a digestive stroll by the Thames. S. and I stop for gelato. I get a scoop of olive oil (surprisingly fruity) and a scoop of strawberry (supremely summery) and take my third(?!) lactase today. S. gets a modest single scoop of pistachio. K. tries all three and declares olive oil is the best. S. leads us back to the Thames so we can watch the Battersea Power Station light up at night. Thanks for sharing this view with us, S.! $7.30

12 a.m. — Wow, we’re back late! I’m at 30,000 steps and my knees feel great. All the walking must be retraining my desk-bound body to work properly. We take turns showering. I do PT. I offer K. the bed because she slept cold last night, but she declines. S. stole the blankets last time they slept together. Today’s tube totals $7.70. $7.70

Daily Total: $197.38

Day Four: Saturday

9:30 a.m. — Somehow, both S. and I slept through our alarms. It’s poor sleepless K. who wakes us up, having slept poorly again. Today is our final day in London, and it’s also the hottest (high of 85F). I put on a linen dress and an old holey cover-up I can’t bear to throw away. It was a gift from a student I’d tutored, when I took mental health leave from college.

10:30 a.m. — We take the tube to the West End, which is surprisingly quiet. K. notes that London must not get up as early as NYC does. It’s a peaceful walk to our brunch spot, Fallow. S. and I order croissant royales, while K. gets a black pudding Benedict. We also order cappuccinos and split blueberry lemon cake, which is the highlight of the meal. Time for another digestive stroll! We split. $40.01

12 p.m. — We walk through an alley of artsy bookstores which ends with, of all things, a Chipotle. Trafalgar Square is fenced off for a Canada Day concert (the songs feature cowboys and blue jeans). S. and K. want to pick out trail books, so we stop at Waterstones. I pick up I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki, and it reminds me of a younger, struggling me. I put it back down. It won’t be good trail reading. S. purchases Convenience Store Woman. K. doesn’t find anything interesting, so we head to St James Park. I see someone with a double ice cream cone (oooh) and also a bunch of enormous pelicans surrounded by too-close tourists (oooh nooo). We take the requisite selfie at Kensington Palace, and the heat and humidity make us look *dewy*. S. leads us onwards to the air-conditioned Fortnum & Mason store. Uh oh. Fortnum & Mason are famous for their teas, and I promised L. that I wouldn’t shop for tea because we have 50+ teas already.

1:30 p.m. — Ok, I’m shopping. I ogle the tinned teas and jewel-like marzipan fruits, but it’s a pear and yuzu marmalade that catches my eye. I text L. that it won a coveted Double Gold — the highest accolade at the 20th annual Dalemain Marmalade Awards (there are marmalade awards?) and so, really, it’s a must-buy. K. wants to do afternoon tea, but Fortnum & Mason’s tea parlor is too crowded. $11.35

2:30 p.m. — We’re back on the street and pass the Ritz. K. says they turned her away at afternoon tea last year due to the dress code. Skip! There’s also the Wolseley, which has a promising cream tea option. K. ushers us in and pushes me forward to speak to the suited maître d’ because I’m “in a nice dress.” Sweat trickles down my ass. I feel decidedly unposh. The maître d’ says cream tea is 3 p.m. and shoos us out. Another hot, humid half hour of window-shopping drags by.

2:58 p.m. — Back at the Wolseley. By the time we’re at the front of the line, it’s perfectly 3 p.m. I smile at the maître d’. He leads us to a blissfully cool table by the bar and an Italian-accented waiter comes to take our orders. The waiter has a hard time understanding us. Come to think of it, our brunch waiter had trouble, too. I text L. if he thinks I’m softspoken, and he responds that if I have an outdoor voice, he hasn’t heard it. Also, he agrees the marmalade was a must-buy. Also, he’s proud I didn’t buy any “dead plant leaves” (tea). Cream tea arrives and it’s three hefty scones apiece, with little pots of clotted cream and strawberry jam. I bite into a scone. Surprise! It’s raisins! The UK is obsessed with dried fruit in desserts. S. was smart and ordered plain scones. We also get iced teas: black for S., elderflower chamomile for me, and green tea with lime and mint for K. The group votes K.’s tea is best. $30.85

4 p.m. — The final scone looks at me with its raisin eyes. I’m full, but feel the urge to clean my plate. I take a bite, then stop. I’m practicing not eating food that doesn’t make me feel good (key word, practicing). S. and I are done being publicly sweaty and take the tube home. K. goes thrifting. S.’ flat is sweltering, so we open the windows and flatten ourselves on the floor like lizards. I call Vodafone support to try and fix my original eSIM. They ask if I’ve tried turning my phone on and off, then repeating the activation process. It works, and I feel dumb.

5 p.m. — K. returns home without having thrifted anything, and we’re off to Waitrose again. K. buys romaine, cucumber, orange bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, and gummy worms (for snacks, not salad). Dinner is a simple affair. The rest of the evening is spent rotating who is showering, who is packing, and who is having quality phone time on the floor. S. uses the last of my sourdough to make a triple decker sandwich with chunky peanut butter and banana slices for tomorrow.

10 p.m. — The sun has set, but it’s still hot. I do PT. I try to sleep, but keep anxiously checking if it’s time to leave yet. S. has to leave at 2 a.m., while K. and I leave at the more reasonable 4 a.m. Today’s tube totals $7.70. $7.70

Daily Total: $89.91

Day Five: Sunday

3:30 a.m. — I can’t lay still anymore and just get up. K. has dark circles and hasn’t slept at all. Apparently, S. and I both snore. Yikes! I feel awful. Once on the tube, I catch up on our friends’ Wednesday waffles. I’m so thankful for this tradition of weekly video updates. It’s helped us support each other through things like family illness and job loss. Tube is $7.70. $7.70

5:45 a.m. — I check a bag with hiking poles (my pair and L.’s pair, which K. will borrow), my sunscreens, and items for the three days in Venice post-trail. My Priority Pass gets us into a lounge, and K. zooms off to coffee. She returns with a latte and a plate of sausage, eggs, tomatoes, beans, and mushrooms. I get coffee, too. There are no non-dairy options, so I’m popping lactase before it’s even 6 a.m.

7 a.m. — We board a bus that drives out on the tarmac to our plane. The teen boys next to us are talking about jumping off cruise ships. Cool cool. We board, and cabin crew walks down the aisle, spraying a sanitizing mist. They also hand out breakfast oat bars, which I stuff into my pack lid.

10:30 a.m. — Hello Venice! It’s 94F and the airport is just lines of sweaty people. At passport control. At baggage claim. At the bathrooms… Ah, it’s S.! She’s been waiting for us and finished her triple decker sandwich hours ago. Sorry, S.! I withdraw €500 ($593.62) cash.

11 a.m. — I buy round-trip bus tickets for us to enter Venice, so I can store luggage at my hotel and we can get lunch. It’s baking hot and the bus A/C struggles to whisper warm air over us. We trek over bridges and through narrow alleys, finally arriving at the hotel. K. and I shift items between my roller bag and our packs, before the receptionist takes my roller bag to storage. I want to stay forever in the hotel A/C, but we still need lunch. $21.16

12 p.m. — Lunch is focaccia sandwiches, each the size of a phonebook. Mine is grilled eggplant, zucchini, squash, and potato with lots of fresh tomato, bell pepper, arugula, and shaved Grana Padano, all dressed in olive oil with generous shakes of salt. We eat on a shaded bench and I watch K. and S. swap their sandwiches back and forth, with K. dictating when to swap. K. and S. go off in search of coffee, but return with bemused expressions, holding small paper cups of slightly cold milk and espresso. Their “iced lattes” were shaken with ice and served with one cube of ice each. We Americans like ice. I apply La Roche-Posay sunscreen and then pass it to K., who is already red, whether from the heat or sunburn, we can’t tell. $9.40

12 p.m. — I also buy a 1.5L water bottle. The cap doesn’t twist completely off, which makes recycling easier. $0.33

2:20 p.m. — Back at the airport, where we will catch the first of three buses. Two older gentlemen spot our packs and strike up a conversation with S. and me. They’re also hiking the Alta Via 1! K. shrinks from the small talk; our friends once voted S. and I “most chatty” and K. “least chatty.” The bus arrives and we wrap up the convo. K. has paid for the tickets, and I start a Splid to track group expenses. Oh no, we have the worst seats! The sun blasts us from the left and warm air puffs weakly from the vents. An overhead display helpfully informs us it’s 36C (97F) outside. We try to rig the curtain shut, and K. borrows my hat to cover herself from the sun. My sunscreened legs slick against K.’s to my left and S.’ to my right. Picturesque olive groves scroll by the window, but all I know is hothothot. $35.67

4:18 p.m. — Somehow I fell asleep? We’re climbing now. Old mills crumble from the mountain sides and a milky turquoise river twists past white rock beaches to our right. Dense forests have replaced the olive groves. The bus stops and people get off, freeing up seats on the shady side. K., S., and I take a row each, with two air vents apiece. Hooray!

5 p.m. — We arrive in Cortina d’Ampezzo. The houses look German with their mahogany timbers, each window framed by shutters and a little planter of blooming flowers. The landscape is all glacier-cut peaks circling little green valleys. We’re at 4000ft and it’s cooled to 28C (83F), but the sun remains merciless. Our next bus also has poor AC, but at least we get seats on the shady side.

5:40 p.m. — We arrive in Dobbiaco/Toblach and purchase tickets for a third bus (with AC!), which drops us in Ferrara/Schmieden. Places here have both Italian and German names, as this area once belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Tonight’s agriturismo belongs to a German family that has worked the land since the 1200s. $7.64

6:18 p.m. — Our bus drops us at a small church and we hike up the hill to our farm stay. A friendly calico farm cat greets us, fluffy tail curled high in invitation, and I excitedly text L. a picture. I use my Duolingo Italian to say hello and check-in, but our host switches easily to English. We have a two-room triple with en-suite bath and private balcony. Everybody scrubs today’s sweat off and we kick back on the balcony with the rest of our sandwiches. The evening smells like sweet dew. Together, we watch enrosadira, when the setting sun paints the mountains pink and red.

9 p.m. — Hiker midnight! K. gets the small private room with a single bed while S. and I share a bed. I do PT. I hope everybody gets some much-needed rest before hiking starts tomorrow.

Daily Total: $81.90

Day Six: Monday

3:30 a.m. — I get up to pee and see stars! The mountain we watched at sunset now has a flaming heart with a cross on it. I’ve no idea what it means, but take a moment to watch the flames flicker in the cool night before slipping back under the covers.

5 a.m. — K.’s sunrise alarm goes off. It’s still grey outside, so back to snoozing…

5:30 a.m. — There’s movement in the room and I wake up. The sunrise has made the mountains glow pink and gold. We try to take photos, but they don’t do the scene justice. It’s cold, so I curl back up in bed, close my eyes, and…

7 a.m. — My alarm goes off. K. and S. are already up and I quickly join them. Can’t miss farm breakfast! We head downstairs to a cozy room with wooden tables covered in checkered tablecloths. On our table are a plate of thin-sliced speck, ham, and cheese, a dish with curls of homemade butter that look like tiny beehives, two pots of homemade strawberry and apricot jam, and a jar of golden honey from the farm bees. Our host takes our drink order (tre cappuccini, per favore) and drops off fresh-baked kaiser rolls and thick slices of brown bread. K. and I line up for homemade yogurt and muesli and I ask how she slept. She frowns. Ok, no more questions from me. S. pays our room and board, $58.71 each. $58.71

9:30 a.m. — We’re back at the bus stop, where the local bus will take us to the trailhead at Lago di Braies. Today’s outfit is what L. dubs “sun safe alien”: broad-brimmed purple hat, white sun hoody, fingerless sun gloves, and red surf shorts. On my feet are spandex gaiters with blue glitter ghost faces (most of the glitter is gone now), thin wool socks, and orange trail runners. My trusty Suunto MC-2 compass hangs from my neck, and I pat-check that today’s map and elevation profile is in my pocket.

9:30 a.m. — A bus crammed with hikers passes by. Hey wait! That’s our bus! Thirty minutes pass and the next bus is nowhere in sight. The Italian grandma next to us looks grim, and I really start worrying. A bus finally arrives at 10:25 a.m., but it’s going the opposite direction. I try to speak with the driver in Italian and grandma tries to speak to him in German (oops, she’s a German grandma). He says our bus is “coming” and shrugs. I decide we should ride this bus back to the start of the line, then take it all the way back to the trailhead. We pass full bus stops on the way back to Dobbiaco and I feel vindicated. $10.58

11:10 a.m. — Finally at the lake! It’s 88F and sunburns are everywhere. La Roche-Posay, I’m counting on you or else my legs are barbecue. K. and S. need the bathroom, so I dispense €2 to them, then go to soak my hat in the lake’s cool teal waters. We take a bunch of photos, and K. and I collectively egg S. into buying a souvenir hat. $2.33

12 p.m. — Today is six miles, 3300’ gain, 930’ loss. The initial 1.5mi is flat and easy as we circle the lake. We pass a gate and spot our first cows, a cattle cuddle puddle dozing in the sun. The faint trail climbs through forest, up loose scree, and then disappears entirely. Something’s wrong. I scan the landscape and realize we’re off trail, no matter what the GPS says. Recent rockfalls must’ve buried the original trail and we have to scree surf a couple hundred feet to get on the new trail.

12:30 p.m. — This climb is the hardest I’ve ever done. I think that on every climb, but this time I swear it’s true. We’re at 5000’ and will climb 3000’ in the next 2.5 miles. The air is thin and the sun is strong (every 1000’ in elevation means 4% more UV). Muscle memory from all my Stairmaster sessions kicks in. I shorten my steps, syncing them to deep breaths through my nose. S. is ahead of me (swear she’s part mountain goat), but K. is lagging. Maybe I should take some of K.’s stuff? I don’t have the usual heavy tent, but I’ve still got 20 lbs and all our shared gear (water filtration system, guidebooks and maps, satellite messenger). I take a water break and watch K. hydrate, too.

1 p.m. — I catch up to S., who is snacking in the shade. Good idea. I’m in the middle of licking chocolate off a wrapper when K. catches up. She’s really struggling. Her water’s mostly gone and she says she “can’t cool down.” I give her 0.5L of my water and mix electrolyte with the rest. K. tries some of the electrolyte cocktail and pulls a face at the “mango” flavor, but I encourage her to drink up because caffeine and salt will help. We refuel, rehydrate, and re-sunscreen.

2 p.m. — It’s a scramble now, so I stow my hiking poles. The scree path disappears under rockfalls, and it becomes a choose-your-own-adventure. S. hikes up a narrow false trail and hits a dead end. I can’t scramble up to help because then we’ll both be stuck, so I just anxiously watch her slide down the sharp rocks. K. also stops, ready to catch S. if she slips. She makes it down, but cuts her legs. We get some relief from the sharp rocks and blazing sun as the trail enters alpine forest. Conifers shade the trail and blooming pink alpenrose reminds me of the rhododendrons back home (they’re related!). The meadows burst with wildflowers: yellow poppies, white bladder campion that looks like tiny hot air balloons (they’re pea-flavored, if my botany is correct), and purple dragonmouth. The meadows end and it’s scree again. I check my elevation profile and tell everyone there’s another 300’ to climb. K. groans. S. just nods.

3 p.m. — No more scree now, just karstified rock ledges with steel cables bolted in them. I grab the cables with both hands, navigating up narrow footholds in the rock, some just inches wide. We reach the top of the pass at last! Forcella Sora Forno (“fork above the oven”) is marked by a small chapel, complete with small Jesus figurine. Thick clouds roll across the valley below. I double check the elevation and cheerfully announce it’s all downhill from here! We stop briefly at the primitive Rifugio Biella, where K. and S. brave the stinky squat toilets.

5:15 p.m. — We’re finally done hiking! We’d been seeing cow pies, hearing cow bells, and smelling cow smells and knew Rifugio Munt de Sennes was close. I change into clean Tevas for inside the rifugio, and evaluate how I feel. My knees barely ached as we descended, and my feet are blister free! Our private triple is simple, but clean. S. showers first to clean her scrapes, then K. goes (she looks like she really needs it). I don’t have enough time to shower before dinner, so I go downstairs and order a homemade alpine flower cordial while waiting for dinner. So hungry. The cows outside look mighty tasty.

6 p.m. — Dinner is hearty Tyrolean cuisine. S. and I get speck dumplings with cabbage and caraway seed salad. K. orders crescent-shaped ravioli stuffed with spinach and potato. We shovel down dinner and immediately start discussing dessert. We’d ordered two desserts: apple and raisin strudel with whipped cream, and kaiserschmarn with lingonberry jam and powdered sugar. K. and S. finish their beers and I gleefully “garbage disposal” (eat) the last of the kaiserschmarn mountain.

7 p.m. — Done eating and my turn to shower! I’m quick and have just enough hot water to also scrub my clothes in the sink. K. calls her partner, but a thunderstorm rolls in and all signal is lost. I send satellite messages to L. and my mom, letting them know I’m safe. The rain starts pouring in sheets, sending the cows running for cover. The view from our window reminds us of Pride and Prejudice, when Darcy walks through misty meadows to Elizabeth. Just with more cow bell.

Daily Total: $71.62

Day Seven: Tuesday

6:30 a.m. — Sun’s up and so am I! My laundry is still damp, so I hang it on the clothesline outside. But where’s the underwear I washed? Aha! I’d forgotten it on the shower rod last night. I’ve never had to keep track of laundry on trail before.

7 a.m. — Breakfast is farm goodies round two. A fascinating egg boiler bubbles next to a tray of farm eggs so fresh they still have feathers and chicken poop. I select an egg, drop it in a small metal basket, and place it in the boiler. See you in seven, egg! Everything is buffet style: a station with whole milk yogurt, muesli, dried fruit, nuts; a tower of jam-stuffed croissants and seeded buns still warm from the oven; shaved meats and cheeses. I have multiple courses, with a cappuccino and lactase, then go pay our bill. Room and board, yesterday’s dinner, drinks, and three sack lunches for today totals €269.50 ($104.44 each) and they only accept cash. $104.44

8:45 a.m. — My laundry’s dried in the powerful sun, so I stuff it in my pack. We almost start hiking before I remember we need to get our first hut stamp! The guidebook says if you collect stamps at each hut and present them to the Belluno tourist office, you’ll get a special surprise for completing the Alta Via 1. The hut hosts stamp some scratch paper for us, and warn us to hike fast if we want to avoid the usual afternoon storms. Today is 7.7 miles, 2000’ up, then 2500’ down.

10 a.m. — We stop at Rifugio Sennes to refill water (and dunk our hats) at their outdoor fountain fashioned from metal and roughhewn wood. Water isn’t always free or available on trail, so it’s a good idea to fill up. The hiking is easy, albeit intensely sunny, as we follow a gravel road through grassy meadows dotted with cows. We make great time to Rifugio Fodara Vedla. K. and S. share a cappuccino while I use their bathroom. No cappuccino for me, because I only have 32 precious lactase pills. It’s €3.50 cash. A group hikes up and orders cappuccinos, which they enjoy with cigarettes. Ah, they’re Italian. $4.08

12 p.m. — We start the steep descent. I zigzag back and forth across the broad concrete road; the mini switchbacks help take pressure off the knees. Rifugio Pederu lies at the bottom of the valley. It’s right by the road and swarming with day visitors, so we walk a bit further to a pump station by the stream. K. and S. need the bathroom, so I dispense another €2. I peel off my footwear and dunk my legs in the icy stream. Ahhhhh. Time for some more electrolytes, but it’s clumped in the tube! I pour some water in and shake it. K. and S. return shortly, laughing that they could see me shaking away from across the meadow. We open our lunches and discover the quintessential hiker meal: a ciabatta sandwich with shaved speck, cheese, and thick slabs of pickle, a crisp Pink Lady apple, and a Big Corny bar. I dump the electrolyte slurry in my bottle and we sample it. Not bad. The pink grapefruit is better than yesterday’s mango. $2.33

1 p.m. — Back on trail. It’s a steep 1000’ up over the next mile. We space out in our usual order: light-footed S. up ahead, me plodding in the middle, and K. bringing up the rear. Spikes of tiny pink orchids and clusters of deep blue gentian dot the sides of the trail. I watch mountain bikers on e-bikes zip up the road next to us. L. has wanted an e-bike forever and you know what? I want one, too. We pause for a group pic at the plateau at the top. It’s a funny spectrum of clothes. I’m “sun-safe alien” in long sleeves and long pants. S. also has long sleeves, but paired with turquoise running shorts that showcase her scraped legs. K. is in a tank top and shorts. Her shoulders look red and I pull out the sunscreen. Every bit we use lightens my load.

1:30 p.m. — The terrain has flattened out, but it’s still challenging. I’d maxed out my 4.5L water capacity at lunch. I’ve had 1L and so has K., but that still leaves 5.5lb of water sloshing around every time I clamber over a boulder. The trail starts turning and I check my compass. Our new heading is due west. This tells me we’re no more than 1.5 miles from Rifugio Fanes, our home tonight.

2 p.m. — Uh oh! Looks like we didn’t hike fast enough. Rain starts pelting down, and everyone rushes to pull rain covers over packs and stuff sticky arms in rain jackets. The rain is cold, which would be refreshing if it weren’t so hard. S. tucks her hands in her pockets and looks like a penitent. K. is too hot for a rain jacket and gets soaked. The storm passes quickly and the plat plat of rain is replaced by cowbells, which means we’re close to the rifugio!

3 p.m. — We check in. We have a large private room for five (it was all they had available when booking in January). I grab my stuff and run to the showers. But first, time for what S. calls “having a movement” (pooping). I feel ethereally light afterwards. Ok, shower time. I open the door to the showers and see a man shaving. Oh no. I must’ve run into the men’s showers earlier. And left my stuff there. I check the sign on the door, which is a confusing woodcut of a vaguely androgynous person dancing in suds. I pace back and forth until shaving man exits and, after recovering from the surprise of running into me again, confirms the coast is clear. I skitter in, grab my stuff, and run to the women’s showers. The water runs hot and cold and I need to push the tap every 30 seconds to keep it flowing. But wow. So good. I shampoo, shave, and scrub off. I wash today’s hiking clothes.

5 p.m. — It’s too early for dinner, so we go on a walk through the meadow outside the rifugio, cross a stream, and visit the neighboring Rifugio Lavarella. Without a pack, I easily hop from rock to rock, over cow pies and wildflower clusters. K. and S. order beers at Lavarella, which doubles as the highest brewery in Europe. We sit outside watching marmots waddle between the many hidden entrances to their underground den. The conversation drifts to spirit animals, and I can’t remember what we’d decided mine was. Maybe a cat? My leg itches and I discover I have been savagely bitten many times over. Can my spirit animal be a mosquito fish?

6:27 p.m. — Back at Fanes, ready to eat. We strategically divvy up our orders so we can try everything. For primi, K. and S. get mushroom risotto (crunchy, is this traditional?) and I get creamy chicken and zucchini pasta (perfectly al dente). We vote pasta was best. For secondi, we all select schnitzel over the vegetarian “grilled cheese”. Schnitzel is pork loin in brown gravy, with sauerkraut and rosemary potato wedges. My pork is double the size of K.’s and K. finds the sauerkraut mushy, so we swap. A plate full of melted cheese passes by — must be the “grilled cheese.” Each table also has insalata of shredded cabbage, carrots, iceberg lettuce, cucumber, and tomato with vinaigrette dressing. When dessert comes, K. snatches my plate for a photo. Hey, that’s my apple cake! I say something, but K. waves it away, saying she just wants a pic. Maybe the hiker hunger is making me sensitive, but that felt rude. S. offers me some of her blueberry panna cotta with chocolate crumbles.

8 p.m. — S. and I go outside to check laundry and it’s still damp. The sun has set, so we move it to the indoor clotheslines. We stop by the front desk to collect hut stamps and settle up. I’d already paid for our room and board prior to the trip (373.50€ = $410.37), so it’s just three sack lunches for tomorrow and the two glasses of cabernet sauvignon and a red currant cordial from dinner (40.80€, so $16.01 each). $16.01

8 p.m. — S. encourages me to try on the rifugio merch. I find a ball cap that fits my giant head. This will be great because my current hat’s brim catches on the stuffed-with-snacks lid of my pack. It’s €18 cash. $20.97

9 p.m. — I review my guidebook and maps. Tomorrow is a big 9.4-mile day with 3800’ of gain and 3800’ of loss. We’ll hike through old WWI frontlines and war tunnels, where more men were lost to the harsh winter environment than direct combat. I do my nightly PT, roll out, and then text with L. over Wi-Fi. He sympathizes with my being delayed a whole minute in eating dessert — in retrospect, rather silly of me. I close my eyes, but sleep eludes me.

Daily Total: $147.83

The Breakdown

Weekly Total $$ Spent: $650.89
Food & Drink: $208.26
Entertainment: $6.18
Home & Health: $106.46
Clothes & Beauty $20.97
Transportation $120.60
Other $188.42

Conclusion:
“This was a high-spend week, and it doesn’t even include all the things I’d prepaid like flight tickets, rifugio room and board, and other random items for the trip. I tracked my expenses for the entire trip because I wanted to know how extravagant it was and it came out to $2,932.55, although I probably missed a couple of cash-only transactions for snacks or gelato. Lower than expected, but I think that’s because I was able to split stuff with friends. I’d previously written a money diary about my Iceland trip in 2023, which also featured backpacking with the same friends. One of my big takeaways was to let others take over more of the trip planning, and I’m glad I did that this time, especially because this trip was many fold more complicated.”

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