[I meant to post more excerpts from my travel journal from ten years ago, but, you know, that just goes to show what good intentions are worth. This is the final entry. It’s still one of the smartest thoughts I’ve had in my life, my own personal realization of that old saying, “It’s better to regret the things you’ve done than the things you didn’t do.” Trips aren’t always delightful from beginning to end. They’re hard a lot of the time, and confusing, and sometimes lonely, and sometimes just plain boring. But, like with most everything else, it’s always better to have gone than to have stayed home.]
The grand adventure has come to an end. I’m through security (really tough, asking me a million questions about my stay and who I traveled with and my occupation–they really don’t like it when you say journalist), and waiting for boarding at de Gaulle.
I feel like I should say some summing-up words, but I don’t know what they’d be. I’m glad I went, and I’m glad I’m going home now.
Really, I think that’s all I need to say.