38 hours later

There is an absence of pics between me walking down into the Underground and resurfacing because I was (a) trying not to add to my tourist image of tramping bag + suitcase by adding a dslr to the recipe and (b) been warned against doing anything beside watching my luggage like a hawk. So no pics. I just oggled the menswear (tailored, YES – and I don’t mean skinny jeans Sydney Hipsters), the cute houses, the accents and counted the stops until Kings Cross.¬†Random note: everyone here walks at my speed! it’s fantastic. The PA voice at the stations all …