Part Two - Go back to part 1 first!

This is the last day and my emotions are not really in sync with it. I'd expected to be filled with joy and excitement about going home and seeing my friends and family. I also expected to be choked with sadness that I had come to the end of my journey. A journey that has allowed me to see incredible things, to finish things I'd never have dreamed of completing, and meeting some of the most amazing people I think I'll ever meet.

But I don't feel either way. I feel a bit sick because I've drunk too much and eaten too much over the last 5 days. Or maybe the last 5 months. I can't really tell.

But I'm determined to go out of Buenos Aires fighting so I've forced Gina to book us into La Cabrera, the best and most famous steak house in Buenos Aires. I'd heard that the sirloin for 2 was ridiculously big at 800g (28.2 OZ), and not to be ordered for one person. I felt like my whole trip had been building up to this moment, and that this steak could be used as a analogy for my trip:

A obscenely large meal, to be eaten by a greedy, naive individual.

When it arrives I feel what I can only describe as fear run through me. The thing is enormous, it looks like a big, thick, sweaty brick. And for a split second I think about asking Gina to cancel her steak and share mine. But it's too late as the waiter brings everyone's food at the same time.

We plow in and I decide to cut out a third at a time and eat away calmly. The meat is lovely and cooked to perfection, and couple it with the Septima Malbec, it's quickly jumping up the ranks as the best meal I've had. Ever.

I'm already full as I carve off the next part of the sirloin, my conversation has dwindled, and I swear someone's turned the heating on. Kate and Danny have decided that I won't finish it, but Gina has faith in me, even if I do occasionally see her look over at me with a look of genuine concern on her face.

I finish the second piece and I'm left with the last part, which on closer inspection is very fatty. I'm quite pleased about this, my reasoning being that it is easier than meat. By now I am sweating from every pore I have, my speech has slowed to that of a punch drunk boxer, and I can't really hear the others talking very well. I think that I might even be hallucinating. I look outside and everyone is walking really slowly, like the Mr Soft guy from the Mentos adverts. I am now so out of the conversation that I simply shout words into the melee of chat, hoping that they have some relevance.

I get down to the last three mouthfuls and Kate keeps saying,
"he's going to do it, I can't believe it, he's going to finish it" she actually texts her boyfriend to tell him. The last time people spoke about me like this was about the marathon, and now I feel like I've just run another one. The last mouthful drops into my mouth and I raise a fist in triumph, the girls clap and Danny just laughs and shakes his head at me.

We walk home and say our final goodbyes to Kate and Gina, and then it's back to the hostel for my last night sleeping on a bunk bed.

In the morning I arrange a late check out so that I can relax and take my time to pack everything for the last time. The next time I unpack this bag most of these clothes will be given to Oxfam or burnt.

My flight leaves at 6pm so the cab collects me at 2pm, leaving me plenty of time for the 1 hour ride and check in. I give Danny a hug and thank him for being such a wicked friend to hang out with over the last week. And then I'm alone for the first time in 2 weeks.

I watch the streets of Buenos Aires fly past me and I can't believe it's over. 5 months have gone quicker than I could ever have imagined, half a year gone in a blink of a eye, Colombia seems so far away now.

I've try really hard to feel that something profound and life changing has happened to me on this trip, something that has changed the person that I was to who I am now.

But it hasn't. What's changed is my understanding of what I am doing on this earth, and how I want to be remembered.

I may not ever be a huge, famous, success in life, I may not earn all the money I 'need' to be happy in this consumer obsessed world, and maybe I won't write the defining album of a generation, but I know what my goal is now, what will make me truly happy on this planet, and that is to leave this life richer for the love of my friends and family, and leave behind a memory of me as a person that made people happy.

Because I've seen men build shrines to earth gods, I've seen how men spent 40 years building a monument to the sun, only for the crusaders to kill them and steal everything they have. All in the name of God. I've seen how believing in something greater than yourself is a false hope, and a painful lie. There is no higher power in your life, you are the greatest power you will ever come across to make your life what it is and what you want it to be.

I've been to places where people really struggle, where daily life is tougher than anything I've ever encountered. I haven't learned anything, I just understand things more.

This life is the only life we have, and the choices we make now we can never get back. In this life or the next. So you have to decide how you will define your life? And I'll define mine by making sure that when people choose to remember me, if anyone actually does, it will be as a great friend, a dedicated family man, and someone who bought happiness to whichever person decided to share their life with him, even if that moment is fleeting.

I get to the airport on time and patiently wait to implement my 'airfare refund plan'

The plan is simple, get yourself seated and pretend that you are in a normal London bar on a Friday night. Then start ordering drinks and calculate in your head the going price for that drink in London. Glass of champagne? £7. Glass of wine with your meal? £6, and so on. As you trot up your total try to drink as much as you can and see how much 'money' it would have cost you had you'd been in a bar, then subtract that from the original cost of the flight and you'll see that you've made it much cheaper!

I get to about £78 before the air hostess refuses to serve me anymore,

"but you forgot to bring my food and then I had to have the left over risotto! Please let me have another 2 cans of stella?" I whined to the tubby, lovely hostess,

"I'm sorry but you've had more than enough, and as this is a night flight, I must ask you to return to your seat and sleep" she replied before she closed the curtain between us.

So I wander back to my seat a reach for my secret weapon, a diazepam! I take it with my last swig of stella and slowly and happily fall into a very deep sleep.

I wake up and we're flying into Paris, I am nearly home. I feel very perky and excited at Paris airport and the next flight is super quick, and before I really register it I look out of the window and see the Thames, and St Pauls,

"I live up that road" I say to nobody in particular. 10 more minutes and we land at the airport.

I love airports, even if I'm coming back from somewhere I still think they're great. I love walking through 'nothing to declare' even though I've got loads to declare, I love it when my bag drops onto the conveyor belt early, I love saying good morning to the passport control people, even if they do just say,
"afternoon I think you'll find Sir" back to me.

And my favorite part is scanning the names on the cards that the chauffeurs and private car hire guys are holding, I know that I haven't booked a car, or that anyone would have booked one for me, but I still have the hope that someone will have decided to come to collect me, and drive me home in comfort. It comes from wanting to see the people you love the most the second you get home I suppose.

I made a card like that once for a girl I loved, and her friend (that I loved too, but in a different, platonic way obviously) when they came home from a holiday. I found the fattest driver I could see and stood behind him, with my homemade card sticking out. And seeing her face turn from confusion, to embarrassment, then finally to happiness, was one of the nicest things I'd ever seen.

They double doors swing open and I need to turn left to go straight to the Heathrow Express, but all the drivers are on the right alongside the barrier. I stop, hesitate, look left and right like I'm crossing the road, then look right again. There's nobody holding my name up, so I turn left and head straight for the Express to get back to a welcome I know I'll have waiting for me. One in Paddington with my housemate, and finally in Cardiff where I'm hugged by two of the best people in the world. And as I sit at their table, listening to their stories over the last 5 months, a small tear comes to my eye, which I hide by charging my phone.

I've been to places that I could only have dreamed of going once, places that I will never ever forget, but sitting here with them, my sister, and mother is better than anything else in the world and makes me understand the final, most important thing,

You are nothing without the people around you.

The End.


I'm not really sure if anyone's actually read any of this, or indeed if anyone actually liked it. The people I thought I was writing it for have since told me that they haven't really been paying attention to it. Which is totally cool. But if you have read this could you please either comment or like on my facebook please? If only so I can get a clear indication of how much a waste of my time this was to do in the first place.

For the people who did or didn't read it, thank you and I love you all very much,

Gareth Potter xx