The cold November rain ...

Was W.Axl Rose singing about Oregon at this time of year? True to form, it's pouring down here. Rivjuando, who is almost as well-known as yours truly on this blog, picked me up from Portland International Airport this evening after a whirlwind day of travel by planes, trains and automobiles. By the time I had touched down, more than 25 hours had elapsed since I left Cousin Slugg's apartment in London, adjacent to Ghetto Stonehenge. After saying goodbye - although we will be catching up in San Francisco later this month for his 26th birthday, the first without his twin brother - I caught a bus, a train and then another bus before flying to Chicago. If Heathrow isn't the world's largest airport, then Chicago's O'Hare would come close. From there, I caught three trains to Midway, the windy city's other airport. One train trip was with a homeless guy who wanted a smile, some travelling stories and, in the end, some cash. Unfortunately, I had $US1 and I doubt that British pounds would have helped this poor soul.

It would have been nice to reaquaint myself with Chi-Town after having a great time there a couple of months ago, but I was overwhelmed with all the gear I carried around. Three backpacks and a couple of shopping bags full to the brim. Who said I was a hoarder?

Anyway, now that I'm back, I'll try over the next week or so to give a post-game summary of my last three weeks, which included an awesome 16-day tour of Europe. I'm not sure how I'll go about it but the readers who are left (including Paul Robinson from the esteemed broadsheet - not to be confused with the slimy, evil fraudster with the same name on Neighbours) will be in for a treat.

Keep your eyes on the prize!