P.S.

He's home. Youngest son arrived home last night - but just barely, the flight landed at 11:59pm. He was surprisingly alert and chipper, despite the long journey. I guess he was still on Italy time - it wasn't midnight, it was 9am for him. He still hasn't gone to sleep. He says he's not tired. Hoo boy, when he crashes, he's going to crash hard. In the meantime, he's talking our ears off, telling us about his adventures. His favorite place was La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

I asked him if he'd do it again.

There was a looooong pause.

Finally, he said, he didn't think so. Why, I asked. It was too exhausting, he said. They were going from early morning to late night and did lots of walking (he swears they walked 75 miles, I think that's a wee bit of an exaggeration but I'm sure they walked a lot). I'm not sure I'd want a tour that jam-packed full either. I'd want down time just to savor time in another country and to people watch.

His luggage made it back, too - with a big ol' dent in side of our brand-new bag. And we had wrong information (again). His luggage showed up at the hotel in Rome just as they were heading to the airport. His was the only bag to make it there. The bags for the 8 remaining luggage-less travelers are either at the Portland airport somewhere or are still lost. What a fiasco.

And guess where he shopped for clothes? The Nike Store! He travels all the way to Europe to buy clothes from a hometown business.