I spent three awesome weeks travelling around England and Wales visiting family and friends. I gradually relearned that cars would come at me from the right instead of the left, remembered that I had to go to the bar to order drinks in pubs and that no-one would come and take my order if I just waited at a table, and got used to spending pounds again. Just as I was getting accustomed to British life again, though, it was time to head back south.
I flew to Toronto. My plan was to stay with some friends in London, Ontario, but unforeseen circumstances meant that they were in London, England while I was heading west. So I spent a night in Toronto, went up the CN Tower, and ate myself diabetic in Tim Hortons. I really spent far too much time in Tim Hortons. Tim Hortons is amazing.
At the airport I crammed one final chemically-flavoured maple syrup doughnut into my mouth and flew back to Chile. I was already missing London. I was already missing Tim Hortons.
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