Volledig. Complete.

Everything comes to an end. Even silly blogs. Yes, I returned to America ten months ago, and yes, no one is reading, but this blog was always self-serving -- a resource I could have and say, Yah, that moment was great. Yah, that's how that city felt. So I am officially making my final entry.

It isn't too late, because I haven't been on a plane since April 25, when I returned from my semestercation. On Thursday, I'm flying with my fellow Beacon editors to San Diego. Being on a plane again will be strange. There will be no Alps to look out over. And the seats probably won't be yellow. (That's okay.)

A year ago tonight, I made a pasta dinner with four friends in Dublin. Bow tie with pine nuts, capers, sun-dried tomato, and alfredo sauce. We saw a stand-up show. The headliner was Australian, and everyone had some laughs at our American expense. I drank a Blumer's and Bailey's on the rocks.

These are the brightest memories of my life.

It hurts sometimes. I ache to go back -- to the castle, to its mossy air, its lived-in feel, its magical social aura. Everyone had time for you at the castle. Everyone always listened, and everyone always knew what you were talking about. Their families and friends and loves were at home, too. And they missed them. At the castle, you didn't need to explain. You could just tell.

I don't know if I'll ever go back -- to the castle, to Nederland, to Europe. I would love to. But can I justify it? Maybe, maybe not. So just in case, I'll say, Goodbye, Europe. Thanks! You're all everyone says you are, and so much we could never say, no matter how hard we tried (especially not in Czech).

Goodbye, Europe, but not farewell. You'll always be in this blog and in pictures, you'll always be in my bonds with castle friends, and you'll always be in my daydreams.

Whenever I don't want to be in class, I go to Rome.