Arrival and Chance Encounters

There is something quite magical about arriving at a new destination- the limitless opportunity to re-create yourself, the recognition that in a year's time you will look back and remember fondly the awkwardness of trying to navigate a new city and a "new" language (British English is quite distinct from American English), the anticipation of starting school anew. Few things are as exciting as moving abroad- alone no-less- to embark on an opportunity that can completely change your life's course. As I arrived at Goodenough College in central London last week and settled into my small but adorable room, this realization crept up on me... that or the pure jetlag and exhaustion. I was so happy to be in my new home for this next year.

I have spent the last week running around London to get a feel for the city and to accomplish my tasks before school starts next week. Simply having a cell phone and a trusty London map book called A-Z (pronounced zed) made me feel more settled. It was only after a few days that the magnitude of this move dawned on me. I was power walking to Hyde Park and back, a nice hour and a half long walk, and saw literally more people in one place than I have ever seen before. The best way to describe it is like exiting an enormous sports arena or concert where there isn't an inch of extra space between you and the next person. Everyone was in a hurry to get to their destination, rushing past or alongside me. Even with my ipod in my ears I could feel the pulse of the city vibrating. And people were speaking so many different languages and looked so different from one another. It wasn't culture shock, it was CULTURES shock. I am living in a city of over 8 million people, representing every country on earth. London isn't just British, it is also Dutch, and French, Iranian, Pakistani, Nigerian, Indonesian and so many more. The challenge with living and studying in London is decoding its conglomerate culture and idiosyncrasies.

I was thinking about this as I returned from the tube (subway) today after a lovely lunch with a former colleague of mine. As it is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, it is customary to share meals with friends and loved ones. I was in my own world walking alongside the park back to my room when I noticed three religious Jewish men. As I walked past them I said "Shana Tova" ("have a sweet new year") and continued on my way. One of the man quickly turned around and said "Shana tova, have you heard the shofar yet?" (The shofar is made from a ram's horn and is blown everyday during the first month of the Jewish calendar to remind us of the sins that we have committed the previous year so that we may correct our actions for the new year. It is considered a mitzvah, or good deed, to hear the shofar). I sadly realized that this is the first year that I hadn't heard the shofar on the new year as I hadn't gone to synagogue. He hurriedly pulled out the prayer book, said two prayers and then took out a shofar... he did the entire collection of callings, a good 3-4 minute show, standing next to the soccer field. I, totally astounded by the gesture and peculiarity of the situation, stood by and listened as people walked past, some staring quizzically, others averting their eyes. The man finished the set of calls and wished me a sweet year filled with success and happiness. As I slowly continued toward my dorm, I smiled broadly realizing that my own culture and heritage is also weaved into this fabric that is London and remembering that I am never alone in this city.

Shana tova u'metuka -- May it be a sweet and good new year!