Is it possible it's been one year since Dad and I headed south from Virginia toward Florida and my ferry to Cancun?

I remember being so scared to get started. I was worried I was in way, way over my head. Mexico and Central America seemed like a rather dangerous way to start a round-the-world trip... especially for a guy whose only experience overseas was on organized trips to Western Europe. I even had a secret "bailout" plan to come home from Mexico if things got overwhelming and start my trip in Europe.

But I discovered, like so many before me, that the world is far more accessible and welcoming than we imagine. Point to a spot on a map and chances are you can save a little money, get on a plane and go. You'll probably find your way, people will be helpful and the place will prove friendly and uniquely beautiful. I think I'm far less afraid and far more confident than I was a year ago.

People who question the idea of round-the-world travel suggest that the places you see become a blur. You don't remember what each place was like. They're right, sort of. I remember the beaches in Mexico, the rain forests in Panama, snowy peaks in Peru and the streets of Buenos Aires. I remember the dunes in Namibia, the beauty of Prague and the gorillas in Rwanda, but it does all become a wonderful, coloful blur. As though a painter tried to capture the spirit of the whole world on a canvas. Santiago does blur into Zimbabwe, which blurs into Sudan... and I like it that way.

Thirty-three countries and four continents later I feel closer to home here in Spain than I have at any point since I left. Since leaving Cancun the first year of this trip has been almost exclusively in the third world and it's taken its toll on me. It's been nice to arrive in Spain, back in civilization, but I'm completely exhausted.

Not all in traveling the world is a hippy-trippy love fest. Physcially and mentally, Africa wore me out. I didn't even realize it until we reached Egypt, where it hit me like a freight train. Five months of illness, fatigue and frustration of living in the third world all struck me at once. Many days I feel like coming straight home, though I know I should stick it out a few weeks to be sure I don't want to go on.

I feel like I should have something more profound to say, looking back on a year that's sure to prove one of the most interesting in my life. I'm sure I will someday, but for the moment I'm a little too worn down to think philosophically about the whole thing. I do know, though, that even if I go home tomorrow it will have been a remarkable journey. We'll find out in the coming weeks if there's more of the journey ahead.