The Brit is monochromatic. They are black and grey. The only color seen radiates from their surroundings, their city. They wear jackets and hats but never use the umbrellas they carry. They are unfazed by the rain and their shoes are never wet.
The French is fashion. Their unconventional clothing mirrors the runway. The women wear heels on cobblestone and they never trip. They are edgy and they push the boundaries.
The Italian is comfortable and not over the top. They do not live vibrantly through their appearance.
The Spaniard is colorful and practical. They are devoted to their country and most show it through their outer being. They wear their culture on their sleeve.
The European is one with their country and they blend in to the crowd. Their city becomes who they are and they become what their city is.
A sincere observation,
London is red, this city is bold in everything it does.
Paris is beige, the buildings express the city’s piece of mind.
Italy is green, the foliage cannot be ignored even when in the city.
Spain is golden; the landscape, the buildings, and the people wear this color proudly.
Hello. It’s me.
This morning the biting wind and the classic stoic London sky greeted us.
‘Twas a day bursting from the seams. This day has been a blur of rushing and my brain is on overload. It is hard to take the wonderful places in all in at once. Even if we do forget, our aching feet and tired eyes serve as evidence for our adventures.
I always intensely listen to find British accents floating in the air. This trip’s first British accent came from the mouth of our border patrol officer. Needless to say I was quite excited.
I got to see my old friend Big Ben and then the lions of Trafalgar Square. They stayed the same, but somehow their magic has strengthened its hold on me. I forgot how much I love this city.
We walked 10 miles and you could have told that by the shape our feet were in. Like they say, these feet were made for walking, right?
Sincerely falling in love all over again,