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September 2004—Alex
With travelling comes a heavy load of expectations. Depending on where you're travelling to, the expectations vary. Many stereotypes accompany the people of the UK. I had heard frightful stories of how all Europeans just hate Americans in general. They think we are lazy, ignorant, nosy and probably fake. In direct reference to the United Kingdom, I had been warned of snooty, stuck-up noses. These warning frightened me at first. However, I ultimately decided to let go of the foreshadowing, and keep an open mind. I was going to greet people in the way I had been raised; with sheer, utmost politeness.
With an eager smile on my face, I approached the lady at the only available customs desk, and handed her my passport and landing card and said, "Hello." The next five minutes (seemingly never-ending) were pure agony. After being antagonized for not possessing "required" documents (which turned out to be merely "common courtesy"), insulted for failing to articulate which London area university I was attending, and laughed at for even mentioning the idea of "taking class in the back of a trailer at some hostel," (to co-worker) "can you believe this?!", my aforementioned fear of the British might not be so far off.
Upon arriving at the hostel, I crossed the street toward the main door when a woman on a bicycle came out of nowhere at the speed of light. Nearly running me over, she shouted, "Get out the road!" and a "for Christ sake," was muttered onto the end of her frustration. Strike two for the people of London.
The strikes accumulated as I came across a patience-less jerk of a phone salesman, a pack of penniless 44-pence bread scroungers, the horn-happy, road raged drivers and the hustle bustle, shoulder bumping tube riders. I had nearly lost all hope in European mankind.
Alas, a light arose from the end of my dreary, three-month long tunnel. His name...was Goran. Originally from Macedonia, he is now a citizen of the United Kingdom. His unending hospitality could not have come at a more opportune time. As the chief attendant of our hostel, he made doubly sure that our accommodations were cozy, everything we needed was readily accessible, and we were all ultimately happy and comfortable here at the Macy House.
In a neighbourhood restaurant, The Gourmet Burger Kitchen, we were served by the sweetest of young ladies. The cashier recognized us, having seen us and our heaping piles of luggage, sitting (locked out) in front of the Macy House on her way to work that morning. She sincerely asked if everything had turned out okay (which it thankfully had). Also, having seen and met many of Goran's neighbourhood friends, I'm sure an abundance of hospitality is in store for us this semester.
In fact, I think I am finding something unique in the people here, something no one told me of ahead of time. As I watch the hurried people walking down the street, I catch an occasional act of kindness. Beneath the seemingly cold faces, I see compassion, and I think to myself, "These people are not outgoingly friendly... and that should not directly be interpreted as snooty and stuck-up." This genuine spark of compassion gives me a spark of hope; a hope that tells me maybe these people are genuinely real , never fake. That makes me look at them in a new found gleaming light of respect. |
