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As all things come to an end, even this story, a day came at last when they were in sight of the country where Bilbo had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes.

Arriving home had the feeling of a great big sigh, the kind you heave when you're snuggled up to someone you love under a blanket on a lazy fall evening, with a pot of cider on the stove and a fire dancing in the fireplace. You know the kind.

My parents and I drove to Cornwall to visit my grandmother who turned 91 yesterday. We zoomed along the 401 on a route I'd taken so many times, it really did feel like I knew it as well as my hands and toes. The great, overflowing forests of southern Ontario listed and leaned as we passed, and I smiled quietly at them from the back seat of the car. Europe is wonderful, there's no denying it, I thought. But Canada... Canada is pretty great too.

I know my travel goggles will eventually fall off, but they are still strapped tightly to my head for now, and I plan on enjoying every second of it. I love everything from my weak Tim Hortons coffee to the lilac growing on the side of the highway to the sprawling concrete of every city and town. Even when the goggles do fall off, I'm sure I'll be able to stow them away somewhere safe and take them out from time to time.

Something has happened to me since coming home. I noticed it sometime over dinner on my first night back, chatting and laughing with my parents and sister on the patio. It's a feeling, a feeling that started in the back of my head and flowed down my spine, filled up my chest and ran along my veins to my fingers and spread down to my toes. It feels like a secret, but a good one, a happy one that you're bursting to tell everyone, but you know that you can't, so you just keep it to yourself. It's on the tip of your tongue, it's playing at the corners of your lips, but it's a secret, so it stays where it is, nestled calmly and quietly somewhere behind the light in your eye, or the smile on your face.

The End

Amsterdam and Haarlem: The Last Hurrah

It would be lying to say I don't feel a little gloomy on this my last night on the old continent. As much as I'm eager to get home and re-begin (for that is what my situation looks like from way across the ocean) my life in Toronto, I have already started to miss the freedom of my European caper, and the joys of a life lived almost entirely on instinct and whim. Walking home from a too-sumptuous dinner this evening, I was so put out by the thought of losing that liberating feeling that the magic of Amsterdam's spiderwebbed cobblestone alleyways and sparkling canals almost escaped me.

And then, of course, a big part of me can't wait to get home and bask in the simple luxuries of static life. An actual wardrobe. Make-up. A private washroom. A private room, for that matter (my current hostel in Amsterdam is overflowing with dude-bros who think everything is so 'sick' and 'dope' that they also need to add on many expletives to these most descriptive of adjectives to get their full point across).

Most of all, though, I look forward to the warm, sunny faces of people who have known me longer than a day.

Here are the photos from my last three days in Europe. 

Amsterdam

A giant chess board. I didn't linger long enough to find out if the players were chess giants themselves. Not that I could have recognized them anyway, I suppose.

Remember the "béguinage" in Leuven? This is Amsterdam's béguinage, or "begijnhof," right next to the Amsterdam museum. Seeing as I didn't get the VIP pass I got in Leuven, I found it much less exciting.

This was a stall in the famous flower market. The prices for bulbs were astonishingly low.

And here begin pictures from my two hour canal cruise. It was pricey but I got some good sights out of it. And I got to sit down for once.

Haarlem

Harrlem was very lovely, like a homier, Dutch version of Brugge. I rented a bike and cycled there rather than take a train, which made the whole experience longer, harder and more expensive. Funnily enough, I still think I made the right choice. I got to see some rugged Dutch countryside on the way, and I'm now tired enough that I should be able to sleep through both the springs in my bed digging into my body and the fervent vulgarities of my hostel's other clientele.

I managed to locate Haarlem's begijnhof as well, which bizarrely enough doubled as the city's red light district. Society of self-sufficient women, indeed.

Rotterdam in Photos

I. Love. Rotterdam. It just has that something special, I can't really explain it. First of all, my hostel is the best. All their rooms are themed, the bar and common area are terrific, and they even have a resident dog!

We were in The Royal Room

She's a bit camera shy, but say hi to Lexie!

And the city is just filled with cool.

The view from the balcony

Odd sculpture....

Think it's an ordinary, boarded up building? Look closely.

Even when they're under construction their buildings look cool. This one's going to be super neat.