27 September 2002
I know I said see you on the flipside, and this isn't exactly the flipside yet, but I just couldn't help myself.
We went to pick up the keys to our new place today, and on the way back (the last tube journey we'll likely ever take to Archway Station, we were sat in an almost empty carriage.
As we pulled out of Camden Station, D nudged me and pointed out a gentleman sitting a little further down the carriage, saying that I should look at the incredible newspaper he was reading.
I turned round, and sure enough, he was reading a newspaper, but it wasn't an english paper. I've got used to seeing people reading things written in other languages on the tube, but this was incredible, it was almost a work of art.
I couldn't be sure what language it was, but it looked arabian.
Just as I was wondering in my head what it was, the guy two seats down from me had obviously been thinking the same thing, because I heard him ask what the paper was.
Looking faintly startled (this is London y'know, it's just not the done thing to talk to strangers on the Tube) he answered that it was a Pakistani (Urdu is their language) newspaper.
The guy two seats down continued to channel my thoughts and explained that he thought the paper was beautiful, the lettering incredible and asked if the gentleman could write like that.
He answered that yes, he could, and reached into his bag to pull out a folder full of papers, which then then showed to the guy two seats down. One of which was a poem, written in Urdu, in coloured ink, in the shape of a flower.
I wish I hadn't been so stunned by how beautiful this was and had been quick enough to get a picture, because this was just incredible.
He then proceeded to pull other such poems out of his folder, all in stunningly beautiful coloured calligraphy, in all manner of different shapes.
Mr two-seats-down was also stunned by this, but not so stunned that he couldn't get his words out like I was. He asked the gentleman if he could write his name in Urdu for him, and the gentleman agreed. He reached into his bag, pulled out a fountain pen and turned over one of his poems and began to write the guys name down.
Mr two-seats-down then exclaimed "Ah! you write right-to-left, same as I do - I'm from Israel" and I'm sure my mouth must have gaped open as they continued to talk and compare how similar their cultures were.
As the train pulled into Archway Station, I heard mr two-seats-down tell the gentleman that he was going to get the Urdu version of his name tattooed on himself (I didn't catch where) and thanked exclaim in delight as the gentleman gave him a sheaf of the Urdu poems he'd had in his folder.
It's times like that I realise how lucky I am to be where I am just now. London has it's faults, but it's an incredible city to be in. There are things that happen here that just wouldn't happen anywhere else in the UK. The diversity that I see around me every day amazes me still.
For all the shit that I've been through in the last year, I'm glad I'm here. I'm young, I have a good job, I've been relatively healthy this year (touch wood) and I'm just about to move to a lovely flat near Regent's Park.
Life in London is good - I just need reminding of that sometimes.
That was beautiful, Ann, it made my day.
oh, i wish i could see those lovely poems! what a wonderful story, thank you. :)
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
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