the sake of fashion

Yesterday, my second and sadly last day in London, my parents and I split up, and I spent the whole day just walking, with no apparent purpose. I found the restaurant Daniel Cates had recommended to me, but at 60 bucks a person, I decided to pass. I walked up and down the busiest shopping districts of town, and marveled at people in long lines to enter stores, like rides at amusement parks. At night, I got propositioned by a prostitute because I have the habit of looking things in the eye before running away from them. Also, I felt underdressed, and not in the I'm-so-proud-to-be-a-scrubby-cheap-Californian kind of way. Just in the I-look-stupid sort of way. I can see how fashion is addicting-

My two favorite games to play in London were "what language are they speaking" and "try and figure out where the non-English speaking white people are from." To make the second game extra fun, I added, "just by looking at their noses."

Also, I finished From Beirut To Jerusalem by Thomas Friedman. I now understand why he is so loved and so hated. I'll leave it at that, so you can feel like I know something you don't. JK, its just because I'm hogging this posh hotel's ONE public computer, and I don't have time to explain. Grumbles.