I am home. I arrived at PDX at about 8:30 Sunday night, and was asleep for 13 hours straight beginning at 10pm. Here it is Tuesday and I feel like I've fully recovered from the time difference, though not the culture difference. I went in search of a decent caffe and croissant this morning in Forest Grove...I should have known better. The first joint I tried had the audacity to call itself a "coffee bar and deli." Pffsh! I asked for an espresso and a croissant and they looked at me as if I'd asked for two dancing buffalos and a water gun. "What flavor espresso? You mean you don't want anything in the croissant? Toasted, with butter?" All I wanted was a simple croissant with a little cup of super-strong coffee.

I will not return to that place.

I had better luck with the third coffee shop (the second didn't have croissants). I explained to the third that I was newly back from Europe and the barista was sweet enough to ask if I even wanted one of the little ceramic cups. Of course I did! I was satisfied but I clearly need to lower my expectations a bit if I plan on continuing my European breakfast routine.

So about the last bit of my trip, just to tidy things up around here:

Paris: The City of Lights.

I arrived early in the morning from an eventful night train with fellow backpackers to learn that, "I'm sorry you can't check into your room until 3pm." Desperately in need of a shower, I took to the streets of Paris. Perhaps this is how the French get a bad rap for body odour? It's not the locals but the tourists who fill the streets in the summer anyway. Regardless, I bought a baguette and followed Rick's tour through the historic core of Paris, admiring Notre Dame's flying buttresses, the hustlebustle of the Latin Quarter, and dropping my jaw at the skyrocket price jump compared to Barcelona.

I returned to my (overpriced and underexciting) hostel after three for a much needed pillow crash followed by an even more necessary shower...possibly one of the most cathartic showers I've ever taken. Just as I was preparing to hit the nightlife, a torrential thunderstorm took the city by surprise. I watched from the comfort and warmth of my room as rainsoaked tourists ran for cover.

Settling in to update my journal and plan my day, I was joined by another solo traveler doing the same. She mentioned she was considering visiting the late night Musee d'Orsay but was giving up on the idea for lack of motivation. Seeing the rain had cleared I simply said, "close your journal, I'll come with you." Missing the last call for entrance, we took to the night streets of Paris instead. It was her last day and my first, so I had a guide on the neat places to see. We saw the twinkly lights on the Eiffle Tower (whose foot I gave a good swift kick for good measure), ate crepes, and enjoyed a tasty meal of leg of duck with red wine. All that in the first day.

Paris is an exhausting city. Too much to see and do.

I spent the next two days hitting sights and museums. d'Orsay with its ipmressive impressionist collection was my favorite over the Louvre, which was really only good for crowd watching and Venus de Milo and some obscure, unvisited ancient Persian relics. Keeping to my M.O. of climbing stuff, I scaled the 284 steps to the top of the Arc di Triomphe for a commanding view of the city and the world's only roundabout in which car insurance is offically nullified. My nightlife was uneventful since I couldn't find a social hostel to meet up with bar buddies, but I did more walking and touring than any other city. Paris could easily require three weeks.

Then there was the 22 hours of air travel and layover during which I had to come to grips with the fact that my holiday is over.

But my desire to travel has just been kindled. Horizons aren't static, nor shall I be.

Until next time,

Goodbye, and thanks for reading!