Travelers never think they are foreigners

I’m going to Europe today. I know this may be news to some, who haven’t heard through the Grapevine (who is my mother). I haven’t told many, so don’t be offended if you didn’t know. A curious kid and traveler at heart, I fear that for as long and as humanely possible I’ll always be on the move. Ain’t no changing it. So Europe, my sweet old friend, we meet once again, only two years ago I was last there and it’s time to leave the States.

College is over. Dice has left. I’ve met all the people and traveled all the roads I had intended on. America – has been the single best experience of 2013. Each trip I take keeps getting better – but college, I will never forget. Or all the wonderful friends I’ve made, you know who you are and it saddens me to not know when I’ll see some of you again, but many friends await with open arms for me in Europe, and for that I am full of hope.

The road trip to Canada Crew

Captioned by Tim; 'The final days of exchange'

But alas, for the final leg of my journey Europe waits in my path, and I am about to head to the airport now, a spring in my step. Going solo again for a bit, and I cannot wait to share all the European adventures I’m bound to have over the next 2 months with you, if 'yall care to listen. Pfft, who are we kidding, I know you'll be checking in. You can resist. I know you too well. Shoutout to Todd.

To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.

~Charles Horton Cooley 

Ha ha ha. Work. Who are we kidding. I haven't even checked in to see my course grades. And I don't even know if I passed. 

But before leaving America, I leave you with this;

We ate at IHOP the other day. The joy of America being that you can get fried chicken and waffles with syrup on the same plate. Pancakes and syrup and sausages and bacon and eggs and heart attack galore, it was the perfect way to end my ‘Merican adventures.

My pancakes arrived with a scoop of ice cream on top. Using my fork, I prepared a bite and raised it to my mouth in succulent anticipation.

It was whipped butter.

Only in America could you find scoops of butter so white, so fluffy and so large that poor ignorant folk like me mistake them 

for ice cream.

Maybe it’s time to leave after all.

I don’t mean that, and I’ll miss this place terribly soon enough.

A final adios from the States,

Goodbye for now but not forever,

God bless America,

LIBERTY. FREEDOM. GUNS.