Tensions Running High.

The biggest feeling in London right now is one of caution, even over-caution: here, the police stopped and evacuated this bus at Notting Hill Gate and Kensington Church Street, as I stood and watched...there have been several Tube station evacuations today, too: Euston, Liverpool Street and Victoria stations have all had "suspicious package" scares this morning. 

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London Attacks: Edy is Front Page News..

A journalist from Edy's hometown, Salerno, called yesterday to ask Edy for his perspective on the attacks, as an Italian living in London. At the end of the interview, they asked Edy to provide photos of himself...he didn't have any appropriate for a newspaper, so we raced outside and I snapped some shots for him, and two of them were published today in the city's paper. If you look at the middle of this image, you can see Edy, standing in front of a red double decker bus. I wanted to take a photo that definitely placed him in London, but nothing as tacky as standing in front of a tube station or something, so I thought the bus going by in the background would work...and now I'm a photojournalist. Yeeaaahooo.

...and the second page, too



So Edy is the big news story in Salerno and I'm a published photographer. I dunno what the heck he said, but I think this "on the spot" photo I took of him with the No. 52 bus going down Ladbroke Grove in the background, is pretty darn good. No photo credit for Dani though. Boo. He looks suitably intense and serious I think. Good job, me. I work well under 4 minute deadlines.

Hold Tight London

What to say? This is Tottenham Court Road, one of London's busiest streets, at around 12:30 p.m. on July 7, 2005. As word of the attacks started to spread across London, more and more streets became virtually deserted, like this. Everyone hunkered down in offices and homes, waiting for news , expecting the worst, wondering if more attacks were coming.

I didn't actually know what was going on until relatively late yesterday morning. I am staying at Edy's place at Ladbroke Grove, which is on the Hammersmith and City Line. I was going to go with him to work, near Tottenham Court Road, so I could walk to Russell Square to close my bank accounts, as I'm leaving on Sunday. I got lazy though, and thought I'd take the Tube into town later (Taking the Hammersmith and City line, changing at Edgeware Road to the Circle and District line, passing through Liverpool Street, Aldgate and Tower Hill on my way to Temple, and the LSE) and went back to sleep. I woke up to the phone ringing in the living room and Edy saying, "Dani, Dani, Dani, wake up" on the answering machine. "That's weird," I thought. "Why wouldn't he phone my mobile?" It was sitting right beside me on the pillow. I tried to dial his number but my mobile wasn't working. I padded into the living room and clicked on MSN. Edy's name was "Stiamo bene-we are all fine." Then I really got confused. Edy told me to turn on the TV, that the city had been attacked.

I sat with my eyes glued to the television. The simultaneous attacks had created such chaos that no one was really sure where the bombs had gone off. Walking wounded were coming up out of the Tube at stations at either end of the explosions, so when I woke up, the BBC was reporting that Liverpool Street, Aldgate, Moorgate, Old Street, Russell Square, Edgeware Road and Leicester Square Tube stations had been attacked, and that the bus had just blown up on Woburn Place. Cell phones weren't working for civilians as they were afraid a passenger answering a call at another station might ignite any explosives hidden there. They were reporting 90 dead at Aldgate Station (a relatively small, "lazy" station) near my place, in East London) alone. More attacks were predicted.

Of course, I was beside myself. None of the surprise or shock of 9/11, but the absolute horror, helplessness and disgust I felt was overwhelming. Of course, it could have been me. My planned Tube ride would have taken me through all of the stations that were attacked. But it wasn't me, and that wasn't what I was most upset about: I was most upset that someone had dared to FUCK WITH MY TOWN, to hurt people who honestly have no choice but to get on that bus or Tube to go to work everyday (and pay a handsome price to do so), and have their safety violated in such an awful way. We all knew, living here, that the threat of an attack was there...but the Tube, despite all proclamations of security and safety, is an extremely vulnerable place, with so many people and packages travelling every day, that I, as a daily passenger, chose not to believe (for my own sanity), that terrorists would choose such an easy target. Packed rush-hour Tube carriages? It's like shooting fish in a barrel. Which makes these attacks even more contemptible.

I was worried that friends near these Tube stations had been caught. I was worried that Ladbroke Grove station, a 3 minute walk down the road from where I was sitting, might be next. I could already hear sirens beginning to wail across the city.

Through some miracle, none of my classmates or friends were caught in attacks. Edy was a little too close to the bus explosion for comfort, but he is safe. The bus exploded in front of the United World College headquarters in Tavistock Square (UWC is the parent organization of Pearson College), but word quickly came that all staff were present and accounted for there. Soon, we found out that there had been only 4 explosions, not the 7-8 earlier reported. Several "missteps" happened in local coverage: a bomb was reported in Victoria Station; it turned out the station had just been closed due to a bomb threat. Two more bus explosions were reported. It was reported that Heathrow Terminal 3 had been evacuated because of an attack, but actually all flights were operating normally. Then the personal accounts of friends and friends of friends started to come in: a friend of a colleague of Edy's had stepped onto the bus in Tavistock Square only to have it blow up in her face; she reported bodies flying from the top deck. Another friend called in to Edy's office to say he had watched a suicide bomber be arrested at Wandsworth Station. Another classmate sent an email; she had been on the bus-behind-the- bus and witnessed some terrible injuries. While no outlets were reporting casualty or fatality counts, the eyewitness survivor accounts on all channels described scenes that suggested people had died, and that many, many were injured. While the news was "better than expected" in terms of the numbers of attacks, it was clear that this was going to affect the lives of thousands of people.

It's 7:50 a.m. now, the Morning After. The streets here in Notting Hill are relatively quiet; the Met has asked people to think hard about whether they need to travel in to Central London today. I thank God I'm at Edy's right now, I'm in the thick o' things, but not as much as if I had been at home at Butlers' Wharf, right in the middle of Zone 1 chaos. I am curious about what is happening in the hot zones, but not so curious that I actually want to see. The big question is, what happens today? What do I do today? Do I take the Tube into town, as planned yesterday, and close my bank accounts? I am seriously considering walking to the bank, as I'm not sure I want to get on a train or bus today, although I know that is letting the terrorists win if I let it change the way I live. But my anxiety at this time is a little too great to be so defiant. It'll only take 2 hours or so to get there on foot. I know that by the time I arrive home in Canada on Sunday, London will have begrudgingly returned to normal, out of necessity and pure grit. But today...today, I can't feel normal.

My final word: the people who did this are sick. Really. If they are indeed Muslim extremists, they killed their own people; Edgeware Road and Aldgate East are stations in predominantly Muslim neighborhoods. These people aren't fighting against the West, they are killing without discrimination. I only hope that our leaders meeting at Gleneagles can respond with calm, will fairly prosecute those attackers they hunt down using the justice systems in place, and will use this as an opportunity to build trust and equity among cultures and nations rather than to continue aggression, and will not use their hurt and anger as an excuse for more war.

Peace. Please.

Don't Bring Around a Cloud to Rain on My Parade!

Today I am 25 years old. To celebrate, Edy surprised me with tickets to see Coldplay last night at the Crystal Palace. Interpol opened which was a great bonus; I tried to let Alex listen to "Slow Hands," our favorite Interpol song, via very-long-distance cell phone to rub it in. The only downside to all the birthday festivities was the thunder and lightning...the Crystal Palace is an open-air venue, so we were standing in the deluge with 40,000 other people. Points to Edy who stood there even though he hates Coldplay.

I am in the midst of packing, and my time in London is fast coming to an end, which is bittersweet. I am so excited to start "adult" life away from school, sad to leave my London friends and Edy, scared about what the future holds, but ready to handle whatever comes my way. If I could find a picture of Barbra singing "Don't Rain on My Parade" on the tugboat (you all know what I'm tawking about) from Funny Girl here, I would, because it's definitely how I'm feeling...I'm a little rushed, a little disorganized, but ready to go, ready to face new challenges...

Too Cool for School

Went to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith on Tuesday night (Brad and Angelina are superhot, they are totally doing it), and one of the commercials, for Canon, involved supercool (how many times can I say super in one blog entry?!) London parkour heroes from Urban Free Flow free-running all over the tops of LSE. Nice to see my otherwise un-chic school get an image upgrade. I am slightly (one might even say super) worried that Edy, in his search for his next extreme sport experience, is gonna take up parkour...the subject has come up several times now and I'm gonna tell him that if I catch him jumping off the roof of a building I will hurt him more than any fall would. Super.

See parkour/LSE commercial here (first item):
http://www.urbanfreeflow.com/urban_graffiti/urban_graffiti.htm

Under the Bridge

The world's longest exam period is almost over. I have one on Friday, one on Monday, and then it's all over...except for packing up, moving, writing a dissertation and moving AGAIN. You know. THEN it's all over. For real. My brain is really rebelling against studying at the moment, even though I desperately NEED to study...these next two exams are in law, and aren't subjects I can just go in and "wing." So I really need to get focused. At least the weather cooperated today; it's pouring down rain and the sky (as much as I can see it from my window) is grey. No need to worry about missing an afternoon lolling in the sunshine down near Tower Bridge.

Yesterday I was walking by City Hall, down by the aforementioned Tower Bridge, and saw four people dressed up as: a cheeseburger, a cigarette butt, a package of salt and vinegar crisps and an unidentified substance which I think was supposed to be doggy-doo. Anyways, they all had signs that said "less ming, more bling" and "pickit up," and were staging a "demonstration" against littering. It was quite funny because their litter costumes were really class. I mean, they were wearing facepaint. And they were walking in a circle, chanting, "What do we want?" "A litter bin!" "When do we want it?" "NOW!" I couldn't stop laughing. It took me back to those heady days spent as Louie the Lightning Bug back in 2002, and I was sure that these special "protesters" were unfortunate summer students like I had been, who were working for the Southwark Council or something and were being paid to do ridiculous "community outreach" things like this. Why is it that community outreach always involves a mascot? I don't understand.

Most of my flatmates are moving out this week. One of them we haven't seen in a couple of weeks, so we suspect he's gone, although his cupboard still has fresh apples in it (he only ever eats apples. Green ones. And salad. Gjert and I think he has an eating disorder). Another leaves Friday, and one left yesterday. The one who left yesterday (whose name I won't reveal for reasons that will become clear) pulled possibly the best/stupidest farewell-to-London prank ever. At 4 am on Sunday night, he and one of his buddies, accompanied by many of their OTHER buddies with video cameras, jumped off Tower Bridge into the Thames. This is clearly illegal, and clearly dangerous, but he did it, survived and evaded arrest, so all's well that ends well, and now all we have is a video to show at his wedding or something.

Considering that people jump off that bridge to commit suicide, I think they're bloody lucky. It is the lowest of the Thames bridges, so I guess that's why Tower Bridge was chosen (as well as for its symbolic value, being our "home" bridge that we have to cross to get here). They also apparently checked tide charts and jumped when the water level would be highest. But COME ON. That river is disgusting. It's brown because of all the SHIT in it. You don't wanna go jumping in that. Anyways, I guess the minute they jumped, CCTV was on it and before they were out of the water (I mean, where did they have to swim to to get out? The whole river is embanked on this side) a police helicopter was circling and a coast guard boat was on the way, but they managed to get home before they were arrested. So all's well that ends well I guess...

Don't worry, I don't have any grand plans to jump off anything before I leave. Edy and I are going back to Rome next weekend, then back to London so I can pack. Saying goodbye in July won't be too traumatic as we booked tickets for Edy to come to Vancouver in August for two weeks (yaaaay)! After that we may have a lovesick lawyer on our hands, but we'll do our best to stay positive...