London

Antiquity (much of London's appeal is found in the collection of foreign and ancient creations)


Yours truly in my new Scottish cap


Fashion

...And finally...London's main attraction: King Richard! Magnificent!

I must say that London is a piece of cake compared with Russia, but we’ll get to that later. Well, I take that part back actually. I absolutely love Russia, and Moscow is very much Russia. London, on the other hand, is not really England. I stayed in the Royal Bayswater Hostel one night and another Queen’s Hotel the other night and the Bayswater/Queensway area in general is filled with non-English peoples giving the place a feel similar to New York City. There are so many languages being spoken all around you at the same time so that you realize London is in fact an island, and international hub of capitalists with architecture from a bygone and glorious era. But now London is filled with: 1. Elitist-oriented Europhiles such as those who attend the BYU London Center (I don’t necessarily mean this in a pejorative way, just stating a fact), 2. International (especially Polish, Turkish and French) opportunists, 3. Excited Asian prep-school children or tourists on their way to sight see Oxford, Cambridge and take part in such ‘English’ sport as Punting, 4. East Indians, who largely run the popular service sector, i.e. restaurants, hotels and Cricket ballers, and finally 4. The still-British parliament from time to time. The rest of the Brits I assume have escaped a bit further toward the interior of their homeland.

I should mention that the hostels I stayed in reminded me all too much of a Dickensian London which was supposed to have long-since passed. Nope. It’s still there and it’s just north of Hyde Park in the Bayswater area. The slummish feel of London in general is only slightly offset, as I mentioned, by the wonderful architecture, historical attractions, and everything else that makes this the city every American girl dreams of, or at least seeks to identify herself with. My remark is: let us not forget that the London of today is a gift from the past, but one is hard-pressed to transcend the street in order to attain historical immersion. Go to Cambridge, nirvana is attained more easily there.

My final remarks on the London experience have to do with the many hours spent at Heathrow grasping for the mythical straw of ‘standby’ flights. They don’t exist. I tried a number of different airlines with flights into Moscow, but not a single one would let me fly out on Monday. Of course, I arrived at the airport early on Monday morning, but nevertheless I ended up staying there the entire day…and entire night. Wow. If you have never stayed the night in an airport, you should NOT do so. Although I did save the 50+ Pounds that another night in a hostel w/ breakfast, travel etc., would have required, so perhaps the extreme discomfort of the floor/chairs/vacuums in your ear and the eyes of countless human organisms upon you throughout the night is worth it. Apparently there is a certain caste of European backpacker who thinks so. I noticed a few college-aged Europeans outfitted to sleep just about anywhere making themselves quite at home on the floors. But then again, this caste is known to reject the notion of general standards except in regards to tolerance, sustainability and relativity. In

Perhaps in my superficial description of London and Heathrow I have given you to understand that I was not at all impressed. This is not true, and one story will illustrate one of London’s many alluring aspects. My friend Mais Yahia is in London with the BYU Center (though she is neither elitist in sentiment or background, being a loyal Palestinian) and she was wry enough to get us into an Arabic film festival for free where a new movie was screened and the director was interviewed. This was quite a high brow event and the finest drinks and victuals were afterwards presented in the theatre’s cocktail lounge. This was the first time being among truly fashionable society for me, and I was impressed with the attention that all present (besides me) seemed to give to their clothing and general appearance. Tiger-striped shoes, designer jeans, brightly colored and tightly tailored shirts, various jewelry and the like were the order of the evening.

A word about the film itself. Being on the universal theme of family abuse, it did not address political or religious issues, thus avoiding a pitfall that traps most Western-Arab enterprises before they really get started. The film is about a Lebanese family whose father abuses his wife and two boys; the grandfather – or kindly old man, I couldn’t tell which – by setting an example of the ‘proper’ patriarch, and finally assisting in an escape, is the hero of the film. At the end of the film this hero, in attempting to help the father with his problem, in fact sacrifices himself to the father’s rage. This is a very powerful film and I appreciate the hope in Islamic patriarchy that counterbalances the utterly dismal view given in a book I’m reading now called While Europe Slept. Family abuse is a problem in traditional Islamic cultures, where while it may not happen any more than in any other culture, their society so often fails to criticize it when it does. However, the positive reception of this film in Lebanon gave me to know that there is probably the opportunity for progress.