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Eat Pray Love really pisses me off. Like everybody else, I’m just tired of seeing the ads and book covers on the metros in Europe for a film released in August. On a flight to Sevilla, the women on the plane were reading it, Julia’s face grinning the serene smile of someone who’s found Moksha, and I opened my magazine to a picture of James Franco. I was bored, by myself on a nine-day tour of Europe, and so I chose that moment to believe in destiny. I would live life “Eat Pray Loving” it. I packed enough Anthro-inspired clothing, anyways.

Of course, I enjoyed the eating. For Julia, eating was about friends and sharing experiences, but a lot of my food moments were alone, because I’m too greedy to share and that’s embarrassing. I figured I’d do the “sharing” part by sharing photos on Facebook. But, I think I did this to make people jealous. Not very inner peace-y.

The praying part was hard. In Madrid, I visited a shop of life-size icons, and although I support the monks by drinking Trappist beer, the Passion just confuses me. So that was kind of like Julia’s confusing first day at Franco’s ashram. You could say I had a spiritual experience, on par with Julia’s run-in with an elephant: I saw a person dressed as Minnie Mouse walk into a bank to collect cash. I really can’t describe that any other way. But, yes, I felt awe, because it was awesome.

And love was the most surprising factor in the whole vacation. I elbowed a passing Spaniard in the chest while dancing and was surprised when he horrifyingly misread my lack of rhythm as his cue for romance. I suppose his name could have been Javier...

So there you have it: all the components of Eat Pray Love—eating, praying, loving and James Franco. No Moksha or life-crossings or thankfulness. Just an inflated sense of self-frolicking around Europe pretending to be Julia on my fall break. But as long as I don’t go to Stockholm and get that dragon tattoo I’ve been thinking about, I’m sure that’s just fine.

—Maddie Lieberberg