Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

I've been home five days and I still feel jet lagged. What gives?

London was amazing. Paris was amazing, but dirty-ish. I want to be a cabby in London. Or at least I want to be in perpetual conversation with a cabby in Lodon. Someone should set up an 800 number. 1-800-CAB-CHAT or something. I can see the infomercial now. Anyway, the London cabdrivers I talked to were truly interesting folk. Ask them what they think their hometown is best known for. Go on, try it. I can't speak for the Parisian cabbies; the problem being I couldn't speak to them. Latin is a very useful language, but not if you actually want to communicate with anyone.

The sheer wealth of experience this trip has provided me makes the prospect of writing about it close to overwhelming. Where would I start? To my credit, I did take pictures, and I put a good many of them on my homepage. That's something, anyway.

And there you have it. Here I am. I'm home. It's summer. Let the much belated job search commence.