Prologue

What a long, strange trip it’s been. 
I went into this with as few expectations and preconceptions as I could manage. In the last ten days I’ve spent nearly one whole day in the air, having not flown in 14 years. I’ve eaten delicious food, drank innumerable pints (and not nearly enough water). I had time alone to reflect and had fantastic company. Done laundry in the bathtub, and had a 90 minute suit press take 24 hours. I have had dreams of expatriation, like Hemmingway, and been so homesick I didn’t know which way was up. I’ve tried to capture everything in writing using the Moleskine notebooks, and then edit it down for this blog. While some of the truly personal revelations will not be published here, none of the substance has been lost. I have been as honest about everything as memory will allow. If any of my companions disagree with what I’ve written, I’m sorry, and their memory is likely better than my own, so go with what they say. I’ll stick to my version, for as anyone who knows me will readily tell, I love a good story far better than a true one. 
My journey, this journey, is at an end, but it is a small part of a larger path. My family would say, “He’s caught the bug.” In fact, that’s not how it feels. It’s more akin to an addiction. As they say, the first one’s free. Now all I can think about is where to get my next fix? Should I do something close and cheap? Should I save up for more Europe? What about Asia? Australia? 
Publicly, once more, I want to thank the Hammans for this incredible experience, making the world so much bigger and inciting an addiction I’m glad to be burdened with. 
I would also like to thank my dad for giving me words of wisdom, and lending me his gear. Oh, and Charlie and Georgina took good care of your camera (I’ll explain later). 
Lindsay, I thank you for holding my hand on every takeoff, landing, and turbulent spot of air. I hope I didn’t wake you. In ten days of constant travel you made one wrong turn, and I assure you, I’ll never let you forget it! At this point, I need to sidebar. The last minute shopping that Linds and I did the day of the wedding took us to the waterfront again, where there was construction going on. She started laughing and pointed. I looked, but didn’t see it until she read the signage on the rear of the backhoe. This provided me with the perfect picture to end this blog, a CAT clearing an old building on the beach of Sopot, Poland. You really can’t escape Peoria. 
I would also like to thank all of you who’ve been reading this. Your constant complaints about me having not finished it, and wanting to see pictures finally got me off my butt. 
Most importantly, I want to thank Uncle Dan, without his stories, none of us might have “caught the bug”. I will do what I can to carry on the tradition. After all, I Could Talk Old - Story Good. 
Next trip, Aug 17, 2006, to Vegas Baby! Could be some blog fodder found there. Bookmark this page, and any new events will be posted right here. 
My love to all.