An Israeli acquaintance who was visiting the United States for the first time once told me that his favorite thing about America was the space – how much of it there was. We sat in a circle around the fire pit in my backyard and he gestured admiringly at the lawn, the distance between the houses, the small patch of woods in back, explaining that in other countries, people are packed much closer together.
I was reminded of this observation as I rode the bus to Queen Mary, University of London, where I'll be studying for the semester. It's on the East End of London, which has traditionally been known as the 'dodgy' part of town, although gentrification has taken its toll, to an extent; about a half mile east of campus is a trendy neighborhood with a teeming but awesome open-air market and some cool art galleries and pubs. The area directly surrounding campus is historically an immigrant quarter, originally inhabited by Jews and Italians and more recently by South Asians and Africans – Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, Lebanese, Indians, Somalis. Walking down the main road in front of campus you will pass swarms of people of every skin tone, wearing business suits, or slim slacks and bright scarves, or religious raiment; it's not unusual to see these in various combinations as well. The neighborhood is more multicultural than a McDonald's ad. From what I can tell, economic stratification in the UK doesn't fall along ethnic lines to the extent that it does in the US.
All up and down the street are various little storefronts, groceries, a number of pubs, neon-flashing 'mobile' phone stores, and, oddly, fried chicken joints. There are literally a dozen little immigrant-owned fast food places within three blocks, all selling burgers, fries, chicken wings, and excellent lamb kebabs. It boggles the mind that they don't compete each other out of business, although their plenitude is probably part of why they're all pretty cheap; a kebab, fries (chips) and a Coke (which, thank God, is as ubiquitous here as it is in America) will run you maybe three pounds.
The campus itself is sort of self-contained, and very different from the surroundings. Passing the front gate one is greeted by a baffling mix of architecture, from the white-columned, neoclassical Queen's Building to the curving, wood-slatted postmodern dorm where I'm living. It's a nice set up – I have a decently-sized single in a suite, complete with bathroom and mini-fridge, and I share with my nine 'flatmates' a spacious, well-appointed kitchen that's cleaned daily by staff, which is sweet.
Getting around London is a breeze between the Tube (subway) and the buses, most of which are, in fact, red and double-decker. The Underground is surprisingly easy to navigate, and the different lines are well-integrated and clearly marked. Another British rhetorical delicacy: instead of telling you to watch your step as you board the trains, the female voice on the tube intercom requests that you “please mind the gap”. That's not to say that they won't shut the doors on you if you dither on the platform. In another example of their brand of mild yet pointed sarcasm that I've begun to really appreciate, each station has a sign on the wall warning you to please not interfere with the doors closing. On each there is an illustration of a hapless stick figure caught between train and platform, and in small writing at the bottom are the words “192 accidents last year.”
My only real complaint about the tube is that it shuts down after midnight, so by the end of the evening you sort of have to be sober enough to find the right bus, or to at least realize when you get on the wrong one and then get off and flag down a taxi and explain where you live to the cabbies, who are, in general, more jovial than I expected. Trains and especially buses are crowded – when riding the local “bendy bus” back from the grocery store, I usually find myself packed in, standing, steering my shopping bags through and around a sea of people, most of whose heads come up to about my shoulder. It struck me the other day that in the event of a global pandemic, there's probably no worse place to be than the London Underground. Suburban sprawl might be an ugly, unsustainable blight on the planet, but at least it lets you avoid breathing in the same tubefull of air as fifty strangers.
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