The author, a young professional with a harmless affinity for face glitter.

I first got stuck in the closing doors of a departing train on the Central Line in late January of 2016. Despite the minor embarrassment and determined not to be deterred by public humiliation, I fell in love with the places it took me and all the places I went after that. I went on to flawlessly board multiple underground carriages all over the city of London and the resulting cultural, culinary, and self discovery was addictive. After a semester of studying abroad, I was back in the states in May, overwhelmed by the size of our local Walmart by June, and eager to return to London in December, when I committed to an internship at the U.S. Embassy here in the city.

So now I’m back with an overstuffed houndstooth suitcase complete with baggage fee, lots of business casual attire, a pair of running shoes, a serious craving for Gujarati Rasoi in Dalston, and Harrods dreams on a Tesco budget. I hope I remember how to properly count change when under pressure at the cash register of my favorite coffee shop in East Finchley and like to describe myself as a good writer, an average runner, and an aspiring Kennedy. I am partial to digressions and apologize for all of them in advance.