Life in London takes some getting used to, especially when you're used to being a foreign expat.
What I mean by this is that, when I've been setting up a home in countries where I do not speak the language, or cannot drive because it's forbidden for women to do so, fellow expatriate women quickly become participants in the process. I would meet them at my children's school, in the markets, within the confines of the compound where I was living.
In London, however, being an expat is a different thing altogether. People from all over the world, both ex-colonies and not, flock to this island in search of opportunities. They flow through Heathrow, Gatwick, the train lines and even from the ferries in droves, looking for jobs, knowledge, love, a new life. Some come for a brief time; others come for a lifetime; still others come with no set plan; they just know that they need to find something better than where they were.
You will run into every type of expat anywhere you go in London. They will be pushing prams in the park, handing you change in the off-license shop or their hands will be beside yours on the pole in the Tube. You will note that some dress differently, especially now that Ramadan is upon those of the Muslim faith: women veil themselves, wear hijab; even little girls, too young to have reached puberty, cover their hair. Indian women wear their saris or shalwar cameez and Africans may wear tribal prints, especially when attending a celebration.
This is but part of the variety that makes up London's population. The city's visitors have added another dimension to the mix, with their national colors, languages and enthusiastic cries. While the British have long been known for their reserve, I have seen little of it, except in Edwardian era television dramas. Walk by a pub on any match night, and you will hear the cries and songs of opposing teams of viewers, as they heckle the screen and each other with a touch of alcoholic good humor.
You have to appreciate the place. I am positive that I have, after a few months, merely scratched the surface of London. New encounters raise new questions, for instance: do the British have as many words for water falling from the sky as do Eskimos for snow? Why do they like mushy peas? Why are eels appealing, and Marmite, too? Where did the idea that Brits serve malt-based beverages at room temperature come from? My beers have always been served to me cold. How do some people wrap their mouths around the accents they produce? I know we both speak English, but some I simply cannot decipher! These are but a few of the questions that can keep a visitor entertained for an entire visit. Imagine living here -- and all this was without benefit of a television!
What I mean by this is that, when I've been setting up a home in countries where I do not speak the language, or cannot drive because it's forbidden for women to do so, fellow expatriate women quickly become participants in the process. I would meet them at my children's school, in the markets, within the confines of the compound where I was living.
In London, however, being an expat is a different thing altogether. People from all over the world, both ex-colonies and not, flock to this island in search of opportunities. They flow through Heathrow, Gatwick, the train lines and even from the ferries in droves, looking for jobs, knowledge, love, a new life. Some come for a brief time; others come for a lifetime; still others come with no set plan; they just know that they need to find something better than where they were.
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| Brick Lane |
This is but part of the variety that makes up London's population. The city's visitors have added another dimension to the mix, with their national colors, languages and enthusiastic cries. While the British have long been known for their reserve, I have seen little of it, except in Edwardian era television dramas. Walk by a pub on any match night, and you will hear the cries and songs of opposing teams of viewers, as they heckle the screen and each other with a touch of alcoholic good humor.
You have to appreciate the place. I am positive that I have, after a few months, merely scratched the surface of London. New encounters raise new questions, for instance: do the British have as many words for water falling from the sky as do Eskimos for snow? Why do they like mushy peas? Why are eels appealing, and Marmite, too? Where did the idea that Brits serve malt-based beverages at room temperature come from? My beers have always been served to me cold. How do some people wrap their mouths around the accents they produce? I know we both speak English, but some I simply cannot decipher! These are but a few of the questions that can keep a visitor entertained for an entire visit. Imagine living here -- and all this was without benefit of a television!
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| "Our" pub in the Nelson Docks area |
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