Three words: I have arrived. (Three more words: Forgive my pomposity.)
Despite arriving in London just 48 hours ago, I’ve already covered fair territory and — fulfilling every tourist cliché out there — wandered with a camera and map in hand through stunning streets that make my uber-urban heart beat a little bit faster.
Since arriving, I stopped over at Convent Garden, where I stared, starry-eyed, at the flower displays.
Quickly weaved through Chinatown.
Stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of the pair who thought to take their wedding photos on The Tube. I think it’s safe to say we know who wins the Couple of the Year Award, no?
Paid a quickie visit to The Somerset House, where London’s Fashion Week is currently taking place. A friend and I giddily walked the premises, snapping pics as if we belonged. Guess what? We fooled no one.
Drooled at the sight of these tantalizing treats at The Somerset House’s café, which were almost as memorable as the eatery’s customers: chic-as-can-be Fashion Week-goers who provided me with some of the best people-watching I’ve done in some time. I felt slightly less comfortable taking their photos so close up, so banana cake and croissants it was, instead.
But mostly I’ve spent my time getting lost. And loving it. Who really cares which direction is Southeast when your surroundings look this good?
For now, I’m happy to keep on walking in circles.