The final blog! Kudos to anyone who managed to read them all, or anyone who read even one. Nice to know people are hearing my stories :)

Home at last after an 128 day adventure of a lifetime - albeit a day or two early. I wasn't originally planning on it, but with the Cinque Terre destroyed and little in particular to look forward to afterwards I decided to change my flight to be two days earlier to surprise my family and friends in what it seems is now an Alexander tradition.

I did spend one night in Milan, enjoying my last European monument (the amazing Duomo - coolest church in Europe, even cooler than the Sagrada Famiglia) and my last meal with the guys (I had TWO main courses :D). As we sat eating our last meal as a unit of five we fell into a bit of a nostalgic mood and attempted to compare, order and tabulate our experiences in our typical fashion - we like lists and statistics.

As a result I would like to present my Europe 'best and worst' compilation, much of which I hope you recall from my various blogs.

Prettiest city: Not awarded.
I have learned over the course of this trip that cities are not beautiful to me. I'm not big on architecture and the natural is always far more impressive than the manmade. If I had to choose maybe I'd pick the Venetian island of Burano and its quaint canal-lined houses.

Prettiest nature: Santorini.
The sunset views from the Greek island of Santorini was the most amazing display of beauty on the trip (although who knows how the Cinque Terre may have stacked up) and a place I intend to return to with Zara one day.

Coolest vibe: Berlin
Berlin felt like you were in a place were important social change balanced delicately on your fingertips. It felt like what was happening at the very moment was the makings of history and that you and the rest of the city had the power and responsibility to shape it's future. It's cool to feel a sense of purpose like that.

Coolest transport: Nice->Toulouse.
It's funny how your lowest moments become your fondest memories. The 9 hour spontaneous detour from Nice to Toulouse instead of Marseille was an experience worth recounting and led to our continuing friendship with the Wong girls from Colorado. A close runner-up however was the Titanic-style first class ferry from Santorini to Athens as one of the only real over-water commutes I have ever done.

Coolest hostel: Aboriginal Hostel (Budapest).
Hostels can have nice beds and showers, great amenities and a party vibe, but that's just not what makes a hostel special - in fact the nicer the hostel the more impersonal it feels. The best hostel we visited turned out to be one of the cheapest too; the Aboriginal hostel where you felt like part of a family including backpackers and staff alike. Because of the hostel alone we stayed four extra nights. Enough said.

Worst hostel: Nice
I don't know if you can call the two person flat the crazy old lady crammed all five of us into a hostel, but whatever it was it sucked. I love you Gavin but let's never spoon again.

Best meal: Crazy Bear, London
Zac and I both agree that the Thai fusion restaurant uncle Briany treated us to in London was the best food and wine we have eaten in our entire lives. And the bathrooms were awesome too! You washed hands in a sink shared with the women's bathroom so that you might brush hands with an invisible stranger. Cool, yet unhygienic.

Most authentic meal: Madrid.
Although my most authentic meal was in Madrid it was the French food, not Spanish, cooked by our six Parisian roomies for Lola's 20th birthday. Another memorable gustatory experience shared by Zac and I.

With best of's and worst of's out of the way it's time for shout outs and general reminiscing (I'll try not to get teary on you here).
A shout out to tuna, the backpacker's best friend. Tuna is cheap. Tuna is compact. Tuna is filling. Tuna needs no preparation or cooking. Tuna needs no refrigeration or storage. Tuna got me by in places with zero food. Thank you tuna. In one day on this trip (the Venice campsite with nothing to eat) I ate a record 8 cans. Terrible for me because of the mercury I know - I'm taking a month detox at least don't worry. I do however have some qualms to raise with you, tuna old friend.. You don't smell great. Nor do you make Steve's and my own urine smell too great either. And my constant consumption of you often leads to excommunication from the room by Zac and Gavin as a result.
The next shout-out goes to my hair, which withstood a sulphur bath, many gym visits, my own Spanish vomit and rotten tomatoes in Valencia before being washed accidentally during a free haircut in London. A more specific shout-out to my forehead hair, found in Tel Aviv, regrettably removed, only to be nurtured over the course of 4 months to the specimen of several inches protruding from me still today (until Zara and a pair of tweezers get to it).
A shout out to Fitness First which has saved me so much money on gym visits on this trip and reduced the number of visits to pink and rhinestone-covered gyms, creepy dungeon gyms and more I have had to workout at. Although I do wish you'd stop it with the men asking me out in the changing rooms.. (Munich, Barcelona, Rome).
A shout-out to disgusting vending machine snacks like Berlin's disgusting 'Bifi' sausage and Bratislava's still perplexing 'Sójové Rezy' which made up for their inedibility with laughs.
A shout out to the name Zara, which is used for EVERYTHING in Europe from street names to train stations to lollies to the store 'Zara' with which Europe is obsessed. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have felt like Zara was with me every step of the journey. I still regret not making a calender of me posing in front of 'Zara' stores removing an article of clothing with each passing month - last one would have been awkward to do though.

And that's about it. Time for real life again.

But what has been the best part of backpacking? Easy question. It's not the freedom or the lifestyle. It's not the sights, the monuments, the history or the parties. It's not even the people you meet - or at least it's not as simple as that.. What I love the most is when for just a morning, or an evening, or a night, you are immersed in an alien family or friendship group like Niv and Zac
in Korea, Arryn's cousins in Jerusalem, like the French girls in Madrid, our friends from the small town south of Munich, the Brits in Marbella, James' poker buddy's in North London, like Aboriginal hostel. To be injected into a new social bubble just long enough to truly be a part of it. That's the best part about backpacking and the highlight of these past four months.

It's been a crazy journey.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.