LONDON JOURNAL - The first week: February 7-February 14, 2003
John Hefner

Dear everyone at WAC,

Greetings from London (that's in England, kids! Waaaaay over the big puddle)! Well, it's been little over one week since I arrived in, as Mikey Meagher so eloquently put it, "the beautiful gray" of this great city, and I think now would be a fine time to put in a brief report on my first impressions from this oft-misunderstood and (surprisingly) radically different culture from the ol' US. First and foremost, I want to thank Sara Wullermin for suggesting this "journal" of sorts, so if you have any complaints, go bitch to her first.

OK, so I arrived here in the wee early hours of Friday, February 7th, a good five days before the rest of my school group would get here. At the airport, I met up with Josh, one of my best friends, representing the rest of my pals who're at that time conked out back at the hotel. They're members of a community theatre group in Laurel, MD, known as the Rude Mechanicals, and I figured, what better way to get to know the city than to spend the first few days there with your best friends in the world? They were all London fanatics, especially Jaki, who is as obsessed and passionate with Queen Elizabeth, Henry VIII, and the Tudor reign as I am about Green Lantern and comic books. Yeah, that bad.

So, day 1: we came, we saw, we slept. It was a blissful wasted day. Ah well, only 109 left.

Day 2: The Tower of London. And upon reaching this magnificent, historic, infamous site, one pressing thought kept looming over my head: it's not much of a tower, is it? More like a fort, or something of a glorified shed. But, never mind, it was fascinating as hell. High points: seeing Henry VIII's suits of armor as "before" and "after" pictures (two words, Hank- Weight Watchers), Traitor's Gate (and the knowledge that Queen Elizabeth was lead up those steps to what would have been her death, and that she froze and refused to budge), all those beautiful, pointy weapons, and the fabulous Crown Jewels (although I still suspect that they're fake and that the real ones are in storage).

One of the most striking things about the Tower is the ravens, about fifteen-twenty there in all. As the legend goes, when the ravens leave the Tower, England will fall. That's what they say anyway. And indeed, those ravens weren't going anywhere. Why? Because their wings had been clipped! Just think about what that could mean from a literary symbolic standpoint. The English don't want the ravens to fly away for fear that their way of life would collapse, so they basically jail them to keep them from leaving. The English government is so concerned with preserving their city that they will go so far as to deprive those ravens of their free will to stay or go. What does this say about the English? Or, more appropriately, what does it say about anyone, Americans included, who holds a great deal of power that is under a threat from outside parties? Food for thought on which I am still dining even as I write this.

Speaking of food, I quickly learned the extent of the price conversion from dollars to pounds, and I paid the price for that knowledge. About $170 to be exact, and in a matter of six days to boot. A normal meal that I would get at McDonalds in the states would cost roughly 10 bucks here! And that's just the fast food, not the pubs or 'quality' stuff at, oh say, TGIFriday's. I'm not averse to cooking; actually, I've had the urge for quite some time to whip up something, but I haven't the faintest idea what. I'm currently living off Cocoa Pops and Corn Flakes, and likely shall be for the next few months. Take this as a warning, O me brothers and only friends. This will be you. Oh yes, this will be you.

For a couple days I skipped both breakfast and lunch and starved myself until dinner. I'm actually quite impressed with my endurance to tell the truth. With all the walking I've been doing in addition, I'm pleased to say that I'm losing weight. Of course, I'm also malnourished and unless I start to at least take vitamins, I'm not gonna be in a good shape in a few days. But it's a small price to pay to look good and save money, right? Right?

In terms of dramatic endeavors (see, I'm getting English already!), I have two points of high praise. The first is a play. I saw a production of one of Shakespeare's most overrated works, MACBETH, which I only saw because it was starring Sean Bean (Boromir from Lord of the Rings, 006 from Goldeneye), and it was most likely the very best version of that play I shall ever see. Seeing Boromir live on stage wielding that sword and striking down all those Orcs… I mean, Scotsmen… Lordy, it was a beautiful sight. Samantha Bond as Lady Mac was good in parts, way overacted in others, yet that's but a trifle. And the Banquo ghost scene was brilliant. Seriously, everyone gasped or pulled back, it was so effective. No flash or special effects, just brilliant staging. There's no way to describe it in writing, not any of that production, but suffice to say that it was pretty sweet.

The other high point came just a few hours ago, on what would be an otherwise God-forsaken shithole of a holiday created by the bastard son of a thousand syphilitic bastard parents. I am, of course, talking about Valentine's Day.

But...O me brothers and only friends, I have seen the light. And the light was called DAREDEVIL. And it was good. Oh yes, it was good. And by good, I mean awesome. In fact, I only have two complaints about it. The first is that I cannot see it again until tomorrow. The second is my deep-seated fear that no one else is going to like it as much as I did. I pray to God every single one of you march over to a theatre with an open mind and do not expect what the previews have been selling you. Especially you, ladies. This is, in so many ways, one of the most romantic films I have ever seen. No mush or sentimental slop like there was in SPIDER-MAN, nor were the kisses of the sophomoric upside-down variety. The scene in the rain where Matt (Ben Affleck, whom I never dreamed I would be calling 'brilliant') tells Elektra (Jennifer Garner… I think I'm in love) that he thinks she's so beautiful, and how he knows this (considering that he's blind)… tears nearly came to my eyes. I swear, it was beautiful. And the fights, oh the fights, choreographed by the Crouching Tiger guy…. I cannot praise this film enough. But like my other favorite movie in recent memory, GANGS OF NEW YORK, it's receiving extremely mixed reviews, ranging from absolute raves as high as my own to outright condemnations. But trust me; there is a reason why this film came out on Valentine 's Day. Despite what I've said, go see it with an open mind.

OK, that's out of my system. Onto more serious matters. I doubt the American press has been making much of this over there, but here in London the fear of terrorist attack is, as one headline put it, "the worst since Sept. 11th." Several people were arrested, and a grenade was found at Gatwick airport. According to the press here, support for the war is greatly increasing in the US but to what extent I know not. Tomorrow is going to be one of the largest public demonstrations in protest of a war in London's recent memory. As opposed as I am to war (although I do admit that I want Saddam outta there for good, but that's another column), there's no way in hell I'm going out there to take part in the protests. Partly because I am an American, and as an American I have a problem keeping my big mouth shut, to which I am certain several of you can attest.

Anti-American sentiment had been unseen since I got here, but then suddenly today my flat mates and I received a collected six attacks from people, ranging from remarks or accusations behind our backs to more subtle ugly looks and reactions from certain citizens. One example: an older gentleman and his wife were walking a rather nice-looking dog that started sniffing me and got the attention of the rest of the group. When one of the girls asked the man what kind of dog it was, he responded it was a mix of wolf and fox made through genetic engineering. When we responded with an understandable, "Woah, really?" he countered with, "No, not really. God, you Americans will believe anything, won't you? You certainly believe Bush. I bet you're all supporting Bush, aren't you?" Adding, "We English are a peaceful people." Yeah, tell that to the Zulus and to the people of India. Ach, but I digress.

Now I know they would laugh if I was to say this to their faces, but this treatment of us is essentially racism. We're being judged by what we are, not who we are. One of my flat mates made the astute comment that now we're finally seeing what it's like to be treated this way, but in a far milder way that those we have abused in the past. It's a good learning experience, he said, and I think I agree. But strangely, for the first time in my life, I am ready to pick a fight. Not one with fists, as they would seem to expect from a Yank, but one of words and reason. If I hear any more such comments in the following weeks, I'm going to face that person down and ask what it is that I, personally, have done to them, just to see how they react. As a student and admirer of humanity, I am genuinely interested. I only pray it does not get me beaten up.

"Well," the older man with the dog asked, "if you're so opposed to the war, why don't you go out and protest tomorrow?" Good question. Why not? Why am I planning to sleep in my comfy bed while a couple million people protest a war to which I am also opposed?

One word: Seattle.

I remember the World Bank Protests, the so-called 'peaceful' demonstrations. Now, okay, maybe it was the cops who started it, or maybe it was the section of masked protesters smashing property, but one thing that was absolutely certain about that riot was that tensions were high, and passions were higher. And if the Draft Riots depicted in GANGS OF NEW YORK taught me anything about large masses of angry people, it's that to create an explosion, all you need is a spark. So as an American, yes, I am afraid for my safety. As a human being and as an "empathist" (not necessarily pacifist, understand), I am afraid for our world. But as it always has been, this too shall pass and all will settle down once again. In fact, as I send this article in, the protests shall almost certainly be nearing their end (assuming they have not by now become riots) and by the time you read it, anything that might occur shall have already been done.

And if you think my fears are unfounded, that the English are not as hotheaded as the Americans, I ask you all to consider what they tend to do after a defeat in football (soccer). Or worse, what they've done when they win. And that's over a bloody game! So, yeah, I think I'm just gonna play it safe in my flat, thank you very much.

My flat mates are good guys, some from WAC but we don't know each other. One WAC guy in particular and I were just today lamenting the fact that there is an appalling lack of attractive females in London, or if there are any, they are almost certainly not of English origin. I am nearly convinced that Elizabeth Hurley is a computer-generated image, a hologram, a masterpiece of plastic surgery, or a modern freak-miracle of nature. Of course, as I write this, I ask myself, "Well, now who's throwing around blanket assumptions about cultures, little Mr. Don't-Hurt-Anyone's-Feelings?" But attractive British women or not, bigoted American attitudes or not, this much is certain: American ladies, I miss you all so much already. You have no idea how much we all miss you.

I could go on with more, but I've written too much already. So in summation of this first week, I have but three things to ask of you back home. First of all, write to me if you have any questions, comments, or just want to say hi. Secondly, to stay healthy and safe in the coming months; never, ever give up hope in a better tomorrow for all mankind, for as long as we believe in it, there is always the chance of it coming. And finally, for a decent recipe involving tuna and cocoa pops. Seriously, we're dying here. Even WAC Dining Hall Shepherd's Pie sounds good right about now.

... Better yet, send money.

All my best, John Hefner
129-131 Sutherland Ave.
London, W9 2QJ
England

"I have a bottle of vodka on my head." -My roommate Matt, at 1:50am Saturday, Feb. 15