I walked everywhere again. Being reluctant to spend money on the tube to go two miles, there were three round trips made to get my luggage where it goes. It is now there, and will not be moving for four months. YES.It didn't matter too much, because the neighborhood I was going through is, as I've already stated, most chic and interesting.
It does not seem there will be any gaining of weight in this place. I have to be brutally honest here. All that stuff about Americans being fatter than Europeans? At this point, I have to agree, almost completely. That being an explosive subject, let us move on to other things.
I get to go explore my new campus tomorrow, and since I took no pictures today, because I was on a time constraint of sorts and was too busy trying not to knock people over with my luggage. I'm sure the shutterbugging will resume tomorrow.
The flats we live in are cute places. I'll take pictures tomorrow. I have a desk in a little alcove by a window, and roomie Priya has a nice little skylight. yay.
ah, funny occurrence. I was waiting outside the Holborn tube station last night to meet someone, and a woman in a suit came up and asked for directions. She took me for a native till I opened my mouth, but I got all smarty with my mini-atlas and gave her directions. heh.
May it also be noted that I stood there forty-five minutes (Stephanie if you read this I was early on purpose, wanted to people-watch) and London did not disappoint. Not a boring moment. Let me describe it for you. The street is full of taxis and buses, honking, cycles speeding past with fluorescent-jacketed people looking like jockeys. The light fades from normal daylight to the odd night light of huge cities. The people are myriad as always, meeting their friends, kissing their lovers, smoking a cigarette and reading the Evening Standard, a Citypages sort of publication, free. The pavement is half gum, half cig butts. A street sweeper sets up shop, and somehow, under the fashionably clad feet of hundreds of people, the trash and abandoned nicotine sorts itself into a neat pile. The buildings tower, they give this funny feeling of coziness in the noisy, life-filled dark, as if they're watching amiably. Watching the same things they've seen for who knows how long. Ah if only they could talk. Well, perhaps not. Slowly, if you stand in one place long enough, you blend into the world around you, more aware of the pigeon hopping at your feet and the funny, pessimistic man handing out the papers than how your hair looks. Such that when the observant Stephanie walked up to me, she was within a foot of my face before I realized it was she.
Then, we went to a pub called the Shepherd's Bush, and I had a fried salmon and cheese cake and a Guinness. Excellent.
Night kids. Tomorrow we set off for Oxford Circus and the London College of Fashion.
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