In the morning Sarah Hollington prepared us a classic English feast of a breakfast, and then drove us to Paddington station, where we caught a train to one of our favorite places in all the world that we have seen. ON the train to Chippenham, a bizarre, eccentric old man lectured us on youth and music and culture and how exactly he expected we would both make it big in the music world. He was sweet though, telling us that, on our example, teenagrs in general shouldnt get such a bad reputation.
We arrived at Chippenham and a car was waiting holding someone who we already considered a god old friend. Paul Cronk, no longer our employer but still permanently magnanimous and imperial, whisked us off to MIllies House, the abode of all the wonderful Cronks, who had gathered from across the country for the weekend. For two precious days, before the start of fiercer and more unpredictable adventures, we were relaxed in the sublime company of Paul, Harry, Oliver, Lotty, and Kate Cronk.
I have already mentioned in our earlier visits the wonderfully comfortable nature of the Cronk household, but over this, our last weekend in England, we realized that this place, more than any other, felt like home. We spent our two days lounging over incredible meals apparently created out of thin air by Harry, spending long sunny mornings in the kitchen huddled over tea and crosswords, or out in the brilliant green gardens the were flushed with springtime, jumping on the trampoline, taking a long walk through the lovely surrounding countryside, playing fierce rounds of tennis at the local courts, and staying up dancing in the kitchen to the Rolling Stones in the middle of the night. Nothing could possibly have been so warm, so blissful, so simple and sublime. Slowly the Cronks dispersed, back to college and work, and on Monday morning the perfect weekend ended as we were brought to the station by Harry (a strange deja vu as we had traveled the same course with her some 5 months before) and sped back to London. We spent the afternoon in the Cronks apartment in Farringdon, and made ourselves a vast dinner. Then we went out into the glittering city one last time, literally sprinting from Farringdon to Covent Garden in time for a show. West End shows are always spectacular, and this one did not disappoint. It was called Million Dollar Quartet and was about a magical night in real history when Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins were all united for the one and only time to play music together. The show was killer, great music and amazing performing, and we left in utter exuberance, singing all the great classic tunes. Cronk met us at the apartment for an apres-London drink and we stayed up talking with him for a couple hour, as we had done before, comfortable and enjoying eachothers company. Finally it was time for a few deep hours sleep, and then we were up again in the grey dawn and Cronk bid us farewell for what he hopes is the last time. It was, needless to say, a very fond farewell to a true friend.

The tube slowly crawled towards Heathrow, and the start of our next adventure. All went smoothly at the airport save for the fact that I did not have my American passport and so was grilled and accused of various things by various officials. I had decided to send my US passport home with my dad, thinking it was a safer bet to travel with one and have a backup. BUt as it turned out, our flight to Buenos Aires went via Houston, so I needed to be an American or have a visa to enter the country. So they grilled me and grilled me and finally accepted my identity, grudgingly, saying "That was really, really stupid. Don´t do it again." About twleve times until I did, in fact understand fairly well. INterestingly, when we arrived at customs in Heathrow, they had no issue, accepting my and letting me pass through with a simple "Don´t do that again kid." The flights were long, ten hours to Houston, a five hour wait, and then another ten to Buenos Aires, but we watched a dozen movies on the first flight and slept the length of the second. Besides, we were fueled by excitement. Finally we stepped out of Ezeiza airport into the blazing hot breeze of one of South America´s greatest cities. We were ready for it. Ready for anything. For Adventure-