Mary Wisniewski
London Columnist
“It’s the best job I could ever have,” says a man with gold paint all over his body. He reeks of smoke and alcohol but boasts of his career of mimicking a robot to all leaving the tube.
His eyes are a hollowed gray and his arm shakes as he clutches a CD player. “You make your own hours and drink as much as you want on the job. What could be better?” he says. A lady wearing a Marc Jacobs coat stares at him and smirks. The elevator doors open. The man goes right; the others go left.
For a long time, I have realized that the world is a dichotomy: the rich and the poor, the lucky and the unlucky, the wise and the unwise, and of course, the stragglers who fall somewhere in between. But, I have never seen it all in one place before. In London, it is only a matter of seconds from the priciest shopping district to the man sleeping on a bag.
Even in Parliament there is a distinct division between the two houses. If you’re a lord, your side of Parliament is covered with solid gold and elaborate paintings. If you are just a common, well, your side is just common. The gold isn’t solid; the art isn’t as elaborate. To this day, the queen only enters on the lords’ side.
We live in South Kensington, a block away from the Victoria and Albert Museum and a block away from Hyde Park. In many ways, it is like living in Malibu. Both areas are incredibly posh and affluent; both areas are a great distortion of reality.
A couple of days ago, I decided to explore Harrod’s, London’s fashionable department store. As I went up the escalator to find my section, I saw a man in a tuxedo. He began to sing, crescendoing from piano to forte effortlessly. He wasn’t your typical Nordstrom’s piano player; he was singing an opera after all. People could not help but smile as they rode up.
The next day, I decided to take the tube to a more affordable area. As I walked through the underground, I heard musicians there too. Some played guitars, others played saxophones, while still others played both. But these musicians didn’t wear tuxedos like the opera singer. They wore shabby sweaters and sat on shabby sleeping bags with dishes for donations. They never asked for anything and no one ever stopped or even smiled.
As students overseas, we generally find ourselves somewhere between a Prada connoisseur and a side street musician. We don’t have much money to spend on indulgences, but at least we know we have a place to stay and food to eat. This middle ground gives us the power to see both classes, a view that can be quite shocking.
We just returned from our educational field trip to Greece. We saw Athens, Delphi and Olympia over baklava and feta cheese. We also managed to see more than the sites and discovered people too.
I discovered Maria, a jewelry shop worker. She works from about 7 a.m. until midnight if not later with a short mid-day siesta. This schedule lasts seven days a week until she takes a sort holiday in the winter when tourists aren’t as abundant. Maria simply smiles about it and says “I have to pay the taxes somehow.”
I remember writing my essay last year on why I wanted to live overseas. Not only did I want to see Big Ben and Westminster like all tourists, but I wanted to live abroad to know more about life than what the Fodor’s guide could tell me. And I am.
11-18-04
