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Here I am, back in Massachusetts!

The end of the trip was probably the least exciting part. Tuesday, I woke up in Nice and headed to London. Wednesday, I woke up in London and headed home.

After arriving on Tuesday night I decided to check out the Gutshot poker club in downtown London. It was reasonably well-run, though the quality of the dealers varied drastically throughout the night. I met a couple of interesting characters; most people in the club, however, were silent, brooding, iPod-and-sunglass wearing types who only took out their headphones to yell at someone for hitting a flush draw.

On what I had decided was my third-to-last hand, I shipped away the last of my pounds - appropriately enough, against a gutshot. The club had free Internet, so I got distracted and made it to the Tube a few minutes after its 12:30 close. Somehow I found my way back to the hostel, where I stayed up far too late doing nothing at all.

Before getting to the airport on Wednesday morning, I headed to Brick Lane on the Tube. Brick Lane is often called "Banglatown" for its Bangladeshi population, and features quite an array of curry houses. Needless to say, I had a delicious lunch. Filled to the brim with lamb korma, I was ready to do battle with the airport.

When I'd arrived in London the night before, I noticed that all of the fish-wrappers in the Tube were running articles about Heathrow. Apparently the airport has been facing scathing criticism from important people for its long wait times, large crowds, understaffing, frequent delays, and so on. One of the articles featured tips for travelers, the last of which was "Assume they're going to screw up and get there very early." I audibly groaned (attracting some attention on the Tube).

Anyway, I made it through my air travel unscathed albeit quite irritated, and landed in Logan only an hour late. In the customs line I learned that ALL non-resident visitors to the United States are fingerprinted and photographed on arrival. (I hear that's part of this "Homeland Security" thing, have you heard of it?)

So that's that. Six countries, ten cities, one month, and a whole lot of kebabs. It's been a fascinating experience which I haven't even begun to appreciate. Blogging the trip has helped me feel like I've kept in touch more effectively than usual, so thanks to those who have been following along. (If you're addicted to blog entries, stay tuned as I'm planning to start an, uh, "domestic" blog, which I'll link from here after I get it set up.)

My digital-camera fingers ran out of steam toward the end of the trip, but I have two albums of stragglers: Stockholm and Nice.

Oh yes, for some closure: I did not successfully locate my sidewalk etching in Nice, but I did track down a Pschitt!

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