Candle for Gaza

It took me a couple of days after I arrived back on campus to feel intellectually at home again. I was in a circle of people, holding a candle and staring at the Pakistani girl in front of me reading a prayer for the victims of the war conflict in Gaza. That was my first time holding a vigil.

"Let us not be too late for this crisis, let it not take the same trajectory that many did in the past, let it not be simply an object of intellectual engagement to be analyzed ex post facto, with people wondering where the conscience of the international community lay while the atrocities were perpetrated," she read. I was trying to listen but my eyes were glued on her breathing pattern and brown eyes, in which tears welled up. Then I looked around the room to recognize the emotion coming out of her voice communicate itself to the other participants.

There weren't more than 20 people in the chapel but they were all from diverse ethnic backgrounds and carrying the same hopes and dreams. Although the reason for keeping this vigil is truly horrifying, the actual event brought me inner satisfaction and humbleness. I felt proud to be sitting next to people who care and believe in peace. I was proud to share the flame of my candle with the next person in the circle.

Goodbye Adventures, Hello Routine

For the first time in my life, I think, I experienced culture shock. I am sitting at the Boston bus station and waiting for the Peter Pan bus to take me to Amherst, MA where I will transfer for the last time before reaching South Hadley.

For the last couple of months I visited so many places and gathered such vivid impressions that the stagnation I found here seems unbearable. As soon as I arrived I encountered the same tedious images -- same bald Customs Service employees at Logan airport who are not rude but can never be truly friendly; same disproportionally fat people eating huge amounts of McDonald's food; same monotonous voices coming out of the speakers to announce that there is a public parking available outside. No one is making eye contact except for the giggling Chinese ladies sitting behind the Fung Wah Bus line information desk. Right now the Magnificent Wind seems to be the only thing I have missed here.

I am experiencing this culture shock maybe because I headed back to the States with preconceived notions, or maybe because I am too weak to fight against the routine, or maybe because I am not in the best of moods. Whatever the reason, right there at the South Station in Boston I felt my soul slowly emptying.

Next Destination: London

When I arrived at 4:30 pm in London's Heathrow airport, I was mentally prepared to spend the whole night here, waiting. My connection flight to Boston wasn't until next morning and I had the laziness to not check my flight details carefully beforehand. Fortunately, I decided to explore the city and remained totally blown by the beauty of this Western European capital.



I guess I have always underestimated London, Paris and Berlin -- the western European cities everyone visits. As my former roommate once said, "France is for pussies," and she chose to study abroad in Lebanon. But in my attempts to avoid the mainstream, I realized I had neglected some wonderful sightseeing destinations.

I was charmed to see the colorfulness of London, which as opposed to New York, wasn't reflected in people's street fashion but in other, more creative forms. Refreshing were the small car models, classical building architecture, red telephone booths and famous double-decker buses. Attractive were the diverse passers-by with their British accents. The city was rich in cultural heritage, filled with humid warmth and open for explorations. Somehow, it seemed to present the perfect amount of public and personal space. Go in a pub or to the movie theater, and you will be surrounded by people. (A huge crowd had gathered and cheered in front of the cinema across from the Leicester Square Garden. I think it was the movie premiere of Chandni Chowk to China.) Enter an antiquarian bookstore or walk along the romantic Hungerford footbridge, and you will find privacy.

London definitely charged me with positive energy and prepared me for the hours of waiting left at the airport.