Another bad metaphor coming up. Look away now if you're squeamish.
So, here we are. Last day in town, last day in continent (as in last day in the continent rather than the last day in which we've been unable to control our bladders - I wouldn't normally include this clarification, but given the stories that Gary has been relating I think it might be necessary.) We've got American customs and twelve glorious hours in Dallas airport to look forward to and eventually arive back in Blighty sometime on the twenty first of January.

Now this probably isn't the last time we'll be posting on this blog. We're going to have to waste twelve hours somehow and I'm sort of suspecting that internet access might be available at the airport we'll be confined in, so expect more blatherings of some description, but I thought that it might be worth going back to that dumb metaphor I dredged up kicking and screaming in one of the early posts written while bored in Quito. There I compared the buildup to the trip like being on the slow drag-you-up bit of a rollercoaster, the bit which lets you get a progressively better view of just how fast you're going to be going when it reaches the top. We'll we've reached the top and we've done the ride and it's been exhilerating and fun and over far too soon (again! again!) so that's done and dusted. Put it to bed.
Here's a really bad end of trip one. It feels as though we've just been through South America's greatest hits, (volume one, naturally - plenty more of this contintent to what we scooted through), now I'm a bit of a fan. I want the albums, the singles, the B-sides collections and the rarities.
Okay, that's enough of that.

*runs away*
- posted by Vince @ 8:21 AM