DON'T THROW AWAY MY BROWN FOUNDATION and Other Adventures in London
Cities have captivated me since I was thirteen years old and I first took the subway in Washington DC. They're big, they're busy, they're bustling, and they're where I find myself most at home. Daily commutes are relaxing for me. Taking buses and trains are moments of solace and sources of inspiration for stories and characters. I'm loving Stirling, there's something about going into a busy, urban city that makes me feel oddly at home--especially considering I grew up in the good ole 'burbs.
Needless to say, London was a happy place for me. We'd set out in the morning and return to our room late at night. Some of our stops were hot tourist spots, like the London Eye, Big Ben, Kensington Palace, Hyde Park, and watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace:
But for much of our days, we explored until we stumbled upon something cool. We happened upon a festival, explored Soho and the Picadilly Circus, got lost on our way to buy tickets for a ghost bus tour...we even passed through China Town on our last night.
As much as the city life captivates me, there was one question that captivated me most of all: "are you from LA?" It didn't matter if we went out during the day, at night, or where we were--there were at least five people who asked if we were from LA or California once they realized that we were from the states. A couple of times, New York snuck in there, but usually, it was California. There was one other question that captivated me most of all: "whose belongings are these?" That one came while waiting thirty extra minutes to get through security because nearly every other person had to have their bags searched for whatever reason on the way back to Glasgow. Apparently, my lotion doesn't count as a liquid in the US, Scotland or Argentina--but in London, it's totally unacceptable and must be bagged. There was one man in particular who stood around for nearly twenty minutes searching for his belongings while the folks at security called out for nearly twenty minutes trying to find the owner of a particular set of belongings that all turned out to be his. All the while, I stood back, praying that all my liquids would fit in the little plastic baggy and I wouldn't have to throw my foundation away. My brown, liquid foundation.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find brown liquid foundation anywhere? Do you have any idea how much harder it is to find any in Scotland?
Spoiler alert: the foundation was spared. I can live another day with proper make-up.
All the best,
Reina M
