The burning question: Why don’t you live in Hendon?

Yeah, I get this question a lot.

Sometimes I think about my decision to live in Central London as opposed to Northern London, which is where most of the Jewish students my age live. Upon occasion I’ll grumble about it; there is less access to kosher food, it’s a kind of cramped and annoying living situation, it’s often difficult socially. But it is here in Central London that the most magical things happen, and this constant wackiness mos-def outweighs all the cons.

1.     Movie Premiere in Leicester Square: I was hanging out with a friend of mine one night in this particular area, and we just HAPPENED upon the movie premiere of the new strange animated/non animated hybrid, Paul. We scooted our way to the front of the crowd and got a glimpse the blinding flashbulbs, the red carpet, and JASON BATEMAN. You heard me.

2.     Shabbat in Central London: This past weekend was my first Shabbat staying in the dorm with Chana. Friday night, a former Macaulay student who now happens to live right around the corner from us, walked with us to Chabad services and dinner near Oxford Street (kind of the equivalent of Fifth Avenue). The Chabad Centre is an entire floor of an office building, and there were around 80 people there for the meal. I had an amazing time playing with the Chabad kids, and the atmosphere was really warm and inviting. The conversation was totally international-I was sandwiched by French and Hebrew speakers-and I met a lot of people from many different walks of life. I found it so mind-boggling that we all knew how to sing “kol haolam kulo”, (albeit in different languages), when we were from the four corners of the earth. Walking home at night was such a radically different experience than walking around on Shabbat in Hendon. Though there is something lovely about a Shabbat aura that settles on an entire neighbourhood, urban Shabbatot offer a special feeling. Walking down the busy street, with cars honking and drunken tourists taking photos of each other, I carried an intimate knowledge of Shabbat’s presence and its quiet Holiness.

I hadn’t been feeling well, so I slept in on Shabbat morning, and lazily made my way to the dorm lounge where I did the morning services and chanted the weekly portion to myself. Chana and I walked over to our friend around the corner, who was joined by another former Macaulay student. We had a lovely lunch of home-baked Challah, sautéed courgettes, tzimmes, and herbed salmon (with hot brownies for dessert!). And, most amazingly, all the museums in England are FREE, so we walked over to the British museum on Shabbat afternoon. There, we thoroughly enjoyed the grand rooms and the amazing artifacts from all over the world that England stole over the years and won’t give back J. So, yeah, I guess you could say I hung out at the Parthenon on Shabbat afternoon. Bits of it, anyway.

3.     Chillin’ with Debbie and Conrad: I prefer to offer food or conversation instead of money to people who ask for it on the street, and the other night, a woman with a sleeping bag was asking for money outside of McDonald’s. I was with my friend, Simon, and we stopped to ask her if she wanted something hot to drink, and she said yes. So, we popped into the McDonald’s and ordered a Cappuccino for her. As we were standing there, we both felt the irony in buying a drink from a business that may very well have been a structural cause of this woman’s poverty. We reflected for a minute on all of the different aspects—the workers in the McDonald’s itself, the types of people that were in line buying the food. I started to feel a little sad. Then, we gave her the drink and sat down to chat with her for a bit. Her name was Debbie, and later, her friend Conrad joined us. We talked about London, Americans (she could do a helluva’ good Valley Girl impression), and homeless hostels, life. We laughed a lot and I had really special time connecting with them. And I know it sounds COMPLETELY hallmark-card, but they seriously gave me more than I could ever give them that night. I was floored by how incredible humanity is, and always has been.

You couldn’t wipe that smile off my face for hours afterward.

on keeping kosher and staying sober

After last week’s classes, I went to Cambridge over the weekend to visit a friend of a friend of my roommates (whew). Cambridge is breathtaking, and so different from London.

On my first National Rail train to Cambridge!

The university that we stayed in, St. John’s, predates the United States by around 500 years. Over Shabbat, our host walked us around the town and gave us a mini-tour. The streets are paved with cobblestone and buildings are adorned with medieval decoration and sculpture. Well-dressed college students zipped past us in giant packs of bicycles. Furthermore, though the weather was cold and rainy, crocuses in vibrant yellow and purple peeked shyly out of the ground, and groups of laughing people punted down the river in little wooden boats. Everything was so OLD. It was amazing. We peeked into one of the high-ceilinged dining halls, which was lined with long tables and paneled in dark wood. On the tables, antique lamps burnt a warm yellow and a grand portrait of King Henry hung on the wall. We were told by our host that to dine in this hall, you had to dress in your formal robes, and there was waiter service. We passed Sir Issac Norton’s former dorm room (which is now awarded to the top student in maths and phsyics), and we heard many tales about rivalries between the separate schools.

I woke up a little bit early, and decided to go to synagogue before the others. The synagogue was just around the corner, but somehow, I got lost. Hmm…I thought…was it on Jesus Lane? Christ Road? Church Street? Ha! So I went to the guard (the “porter” as they call them) at my friend’s college and asked him if he knew where the Cambridge Jewish Center was. He said, “The Cambridge What?”

Eventually, I found it! The Jewish community was really warm. As it turns out, I knew a number of people there from various parts of my life. It was a wonderful Shabbat with an abundance of vegetarian food :).

The next day, on Sunday, I went to Camden Market. Okay. The complete opposite of Cambridge. And though, to be honest, Cambridge kinda made my heart melt in an amazing way, I was excited to be back in the colorful city. Camden Market was PACKED. As you walked, you were pretty much shoulder to shoulder with the person next to you. Dozens upon dozens of stalls caught my eye as I walked through the aisles, and they sold everything from jewelry, to art, to clothing, and to those crazy pedicures where fish gnaw away at your dead skin. (see photo below). The smells were fantastic; Indian food, Mexican Food, Thai! But I have one thing to say: If you want to save money in London, keep kosher and stay sober. It’s definitely working for my wallet. Hey, more fish pedicures for me.

Fish Pedi

I do have one weakness though, and that is for cappuccinos. At Camden Market, I stood online for a while watching the one barista make the coffees in a really artful way, and though it was taking a while, I was enjoying watching his craft. When it was my turn, the conversation went something like this:

Me: Busy day, huh?

Him (in some European accent, Lithuanian I later learned): Yeah, my friend has a hangover and he left me here alone! Which is crazy, because it gets so busy on the weekends. Sorry about the wait.

Me: No, it’s fine-I only wish I could help! Want a hand?

Him: Haha, no thanks!

Me: What’s your name?

Him: Rrrrrrrrene (rolls “r” dramatically)

Me: Thanks for the coffee! And good luck!

In addition to delicious coffee, I spotted some donut stops, which I carefully noted for my sister’s donut-related blog, glazed and enthused (glazedandethused.tumblr.com). See images below!

Donut Queen.

Anyhow, to tie this together, last Friday, I went to the Tate Modern with a friend. The Tate Modern is an incredible art museum with a glorious collection of works. He and I stopped and pondered different pieces of art, and we came upon this one, titled The Busy Life, by John DeBuffet:

It clearly portrayed some sort of city existence. My friend first noted that it looked like war and violence. One man seemed to be holding a gun, and there were limbs kind of strewn about. Additionally, the angry strokes of color on the canvas represented chaos and destruction.

Then, we saw an alternative view. That the city life, or the busy life, as its called, is where people live everyday lives. They do not live in a vacuum, however. In the city, they are surrounded by excitement- fast bursts of color and energy. And tonight there was urban beauty. The air was fresh, the city lights were sparkling, and the sky over the River Thames was a beautiful blend of cotton-candy blues and pinks.

But though cities can be exciting cultural hubs and beautiful places where communities develop and humans connect with one another in unexpected ways, they can also be ugly. They can be gritty. Most of all, they can reflect injustice. And it made me furious and sad to come all the way from New York and D.C. to see the same thing- more people sleeping on the street in the cold tonight just like back home.

I think it’s the rain that’s making me think so much.

Since I haven’t written in a number of days, I have had a lot of time to reflect about what living here has been like, and about my studies in general. I was thinking: overall, I am quite an anxious person. I fear many things, and coming up against the unpredictable makes me uneasy. So why did I choose Urban Studies? Why get involved in Social Justice? Why do I choose a field that basically embodies all that is unpredictable, grimy, and unsettling in our modern world? Maybe it is so that I can feel good about myself. Maybe I feel like it’s all part of a healing process. Maybe so it is that I can look my fears right in the face and transform all that negative worry energy into positive bursts of action and change. Heck, maybe it’s all three.

But another thing that really fuels me is my Jewishness: both my faith and my tradition. I am reading an mind-blowing book right now written by the Chief Rabbi of England, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, called Future Tense: A Vision for Jews and Judaism in a Global Culture. He writes (among many other brilliant things):

“At the heart of Judaism is the belief in the reality of otherness. God is not humankind. Humankind is not God. God    creates otherness in love, as we, when we become parents, create otherness in love. Hate is the inability to accept the other. Cain could not live with the otherness of Abel, and he killed him. The builders of Babel could not live with the politics of otherness—they insisted on ‘one language and a common speech’, rejecting the dignity of dissent. The Egyptians could not live with the otherness of the Hebrews, so they enslaved them. Germany could not live with the otherness of the Jews, so it set about murdering them. Judaism is the voice of the other throughout history. The whole of Judaism is about making space for the other, about God making space for us, us making space for God, and about human beings making space for one another…so, time and time again, the Torah commands us to love the stranger, the embodiment of otherness: Do not oppress a stranger; you yourselves know what it feels like to be a stranger, for you were strangers in Egypt. (Exodus 23:9)

There is a reason Judaism does not proselytize. Aside from accepting the ultimate authority of God, Judaism believes that the world should be a potpourri of different culture and religions. Judaism speaks against imperialism and xenophobia, and anything that rejects the position of the uniqueness of every individual.

But it is part and parcel of the human condition to look differently upon the other, so I have been thinking actively a lot about that and I have wanted to defeat that part of myself. I will not stand up and claim that I am not racist, because “some of my best friends are black.” I will not say that the concept of race and different is non-existent, and I will not wish it to be so. I do find it important, however, to acknowledge the historical distrust that exists between myself and between people of color that has come from deeply ingrained ideologies in the communities and institutions surrounding me. I find it important to acknowledge the distinctive place in society that I occupy, and to define what its social significance is.

In London, I am an American woman. I am Jewish. I am also white, and middle-upper class. I have a good education and own both an Apple Macbook and iPhone. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my classes are extremely diverse. In a few of my classes, I am the only “white” person. I occupy a strange space in the classroom.

It was great studying the Civil Rights Movement in Queens College, but it is particularly enriching to be discussing it with middle aged men from Nairobi, young women who have emigrated from India, and young working mothers of color from Brixton in South London. I only wish that the professors took more advantage of the differences between the students. There could be some really incredible work going on if we began to discuss our feelings towards one another.

The other day, I went on an adventure to the East End Thrift store, which was a one-mile walk from my campus, and this adventure turned into an experiment. Like in Flushing, Queens, the East End of London is a multicultural paradise. Every few blocks, there is a different ethnic enclave. As I walked through each pocket, taking in the people, the sights, and the smells, I let my automatic thoughts and feelings wash over me. Depending on the context, I felt fear, suspicion, and sadness, privilege, pride, condescension, and shame. I noticed the difference I felt when I passed the Islamic Center of London to when I passed the Indian Market, or a homeless man on the street.

Hm. It’s not that I find my musings particularly significant, but I thought I should share-it’s really been on my mind!

captured this on the Tube…

Do I EVER stop talking about Challah?

Observing Shabbat is one of the most incredible things for my health and for my spiritual, emotional, and intellectual growth. It provides a completely different space of being, and it carries with it a unique calm energy. The emphasis on community is a refreshing change from my self-absorbed week. On Friday afternoon, I bid adieu to Facebook, cell-phones, homework, and money, and I grab a reflective “cuppa” (more British slang) with the Creator.

I spent this Shabbat in Hendon, a suburb of London called with a friend from seminary. It was a really nice Shabbat; and though it was cold, the sun shone brightly in the morning. Services were quite beautiful (and mostly the same to what I’m used to, save for some different tunes and a blessing for the Royal Family) and individuals from the community came and introduced themselves to me after the services.

Woman: You MUST come for lunch sometime! We would love to have you. Though I do need to warn you, we are vegetarians.

Me (In my head):  Score.

When I walked down the streets with my friend, It felt like a familiar Jewish community, like Silver Spring or Teaneck. People, for the most part, greeted each other with a Shabbat Shalom. The neighborhood alternated between black-hat (more strictly observant) and modern as we crossed through various community pockets. We ate at two different families for the meals, and though they were different, they both embodied that special Shabbat flavor.

Both families also served the most ridiculously amazing Challah I have ever tasted (except, of course, for Abba Fruchter’s). Each was a perfect balance of salty and sweet, and each had just the right amount of bounce in the airy dough. Taking a bite was like yanking off a piece of a fluffy, challah-flavored cloud and popping it in your mouth. Additionally, both challot were baked by women who clearly had immense pride in the golden, crusty loaves.

I was inspired by these women, and decided to be adventurous and bake scones and Saturday night with a friend after a quaint and beautiful walk in Hampstead. Let’s just say I was getting ahead of myself.

Scones or Scary Deflated Cookie Impostors with WAY too much butter? Next time, I'll make ACTUAL scones.

Break out the raincoat folks…

Today, it’s PROPERLY raining in London. The sky’s color is a blend of cozy and gloomy, and fat droplets of rain drop down steadily from the sky.

As people walk into and out of the Tube, they stumble briefly on slippery floors. The rain, however, did not cause any kind of delay in the system. It seemed that everything else that could possibly cause a delay had happened while I was travelling earlier this week. (“the wrong kind of” DUST on the tracks? http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23921092-wrong-dust-on-the-line-brings-another-day-of-chaos-on-the-tube.do)

Now that I have officially complained about Tube service, I believe I have begun my slow initiation into the non-tourist Londoner club.

I have also brushed up on my Football (note to Americans: soccer) knowledge, thanks to a friend. I went to a pub in Hendon earlier in the week to watch a match. I walked in, and the room was packed with men gripping beers and some sleepy-looking girlfriends typing out text messages on their smartphones. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats, absolutely absorbed by the game. Apparently, I am now a Liverpool fan. I mean, come on. They have the most spirit, don’t they? On the way out of the tube station the other day, I overheard two people chatting about Football. The conversation went as follows:

Woman: So who’s your team?

Man: Liverpool.

Woman: Really?!

Man: Yeah, I mean, they aren’t having the best of seasons, but…

Me (I turn around): But that was a great match on Monday, no?

So, yeah, I guess I’m an official Liverpool fan.

I’ve also started classes this week. My classes are Food and Power, Management of Welfare Organisations, Rights Social Justice and Diversity, and Theatre in London. All of my classes are mostly Brits and International students, with the exception of the Theatre class, which is only open to American study abroad students. The subject matter is incredibly interesting, and I am reading furiously about politics in Britain and the history of the Welfare state in the UK so that I am able to keep up with class discussion.

Sir William Beveridge, architect of the post-WWII Welfare State in Britain. In case you were wondering.

Another interesting thing is that my University is truly diverse. Not only are 50% of the students international students, but most, at least in my course of study, are people of color, from both the UK and from every other region imaginable. I am privileged to be in a situation where I have the opportunity to learn from so many different types of people and work on making connections across difference.

It’s wonderful here, and I am soaking up everything like my clothing is soaking up the buckets of rain that fall from the gray London sky.

Cheerio, Madam!

I saw a really interesting gag sign on the tube (synonyms: underground, train, moving vehicle that has frequent delays) the other day. It was printed in the same format as the official rules and regulations of the train. It read:

“Don’t acknowledge fellow passengers or sustain eye contact beyond two seconds. Please respect urban solitude.”

My first reaction was: “oh, some cynic must have put that on the train! No one else could possibly think like that.” Then, though, I thought about the last eight days of living in London. It has been virtually impossible to make eye contact and smile at people walking by in the underground. People, for the most part, look at me like I’m crazy when I greet them in some way or compliment an article of their clothing.

But I love these moments; moments of brief connection between random strangers on the tube or on the street. What’s the point in the heterogeneity of the urban landscape if you can’t take advantage of connecting with and learning from all of the diversity and difference you find there?

So the last week has been a game of trying to break with the “urban solitude” culture, and trying to fit in with everyone else. Yesterday, I wore a pair of slacks with heels and stormed onto the Tube with a cup of coffee looking really confident and rushed. As I swiped my Oyster card like I meant business, I totally fit in with rush hour. Alternatively, I serenaded people coming down the escalator to the tunes of Elton John. (see video here: http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=45623971075&id=1230300026#!/video/video.php?v=1646863379660&comments)

See if you can guess which is which:

1.     Introducing myself like a madwoman to everyone in my classes (break with)

2.     Saying “sorry” with an British accent when I have to get by someone in the market (fit in)

3.     Carrying a mini oven through London (break with?)

There are exceptions, though. In the store yesterday, I was looking at eggs and an elderly lady turns to me and says in a really thick accent: “I love me’self a good egg! These look scrumptious!” I agreed wholeheartedly, and as she walked away she cried, “Cheerio, young lady!”

I think I am in love with this woman.

I also had an amazing time over the weekend at a JSOC Shabbaton (weekend Jewish convention) in Bournemouth, a beach town around 2 hours from London. It was a beautiful and spiritual weekend, and I met so many interesting folks. Plus, I got to take in the beautiful (albeit very cold and windy) shoreline. I spent time mostly with Brits, and I brushed up on my British slang (bonk, jokes, dodgy, “g”). One of my friends told me that teatime was at 4:30, so while around a dozen brits were playing a game, I brought them a tray of tea, cookies, and mints. Ha! I bet I won their friendship. I also got the full meaning of what a “stag party” is in the UK. On Saturday night, I went with a few friends to a karaoke bar. There were three “stags” going on-one giant group dressed as cowboys (the FULL regalia), another with sideburns and hula skirts, and a third as fairy tale creatures.

On the Shabbaton, myself and a friend made him out of leftover food scraps. Thought I should share.

L’Chaim! Here’s to a great week of experiencing a new city. Next post? I tell you about classes…

Well-Dressed Guitar

Packing for England was tight at times:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCKH7iZv388

Nom. Nom.

I have just discovered something unbelievable.

You know Honey Nut Shredded Wheat In America? Decent cereal, but not amazing? I just bought a box in London, nearly after I learned what was kosher. It was my first carbohydrate based meal since I got here two days ago, and I was looking forward to eating a bowl with cold milk.

It was DELICIOUS.

They were crunchy, compact, and just a little bit sweet. Each square has a mini potpourri of almond pieces on top. Nothing like the bizarre, sticky, too-sweet glaze that you find in the American version.

Through the food we eat, experiences are built. When I was little during hot Maryland summers, my mother used to stop on the side of the road and get us each a farm-fresh tomato. Biting into it was one of the most sublime experiences-the tomato would pop open, and I would smile at how delicious it tasted.

Now, every time I bite into a delicious tomato, I am flooded with warm memories of summer days, daisies, and strawberry picking.

Maybe every future delicious bowl of Honey-Nut shredded wheat will signal what my first delicious taste of London was. A spitting sky, a thick pound coin, the Tube, and the promise of new and exciting places.

I’ve titled my blog “urban legends” because as an Urban Studies student, this is my informal coursework. This is how I will observe the city of London, and relay the experience over to you. Moreover, I hope to make my own “legends” and create amazing adventures.

Cheers!

England in Six Days!