So just a quick recap. I am alive and about 7kgs heavier, so there's more of me to miss I guess. And I will write a super duper long post when I get back, complete with photos.
If you ask me what I think of 'the continent' right now (and maybe I'll have a more lucid response later), I am hugely and insanely conflicted. I love it. I hate it. When people are nice they can be awesome but a large chunk of them are surly surly assholes. Food is expensive everywhere and yet so so tasty. Clothes are expensive. I'm drinking in my weight in history. It's damn cold (in springtime!). I've seen people beating their kids at train stations but everyone everywhere loves their dogs. Entire sections of Italy need liquid pinesol (omg, don't graffiti in the fucking Duomo! A little respect ey?!) while London could do with some WD40 on .. everything. And maybe invest in some stairs for the paralympians.
I want to stay. I want to go home. I need to learn more. I can't take anymore walking in tourist traps. You'll have to yank this down pillow from my really cold dead hands.
It's been really really memorable.
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