The World Is Not Enough by Michelle Nguyen       
(Joint winner of the Fall 2008 Photo Essay (London/UK) contest)

As I make my daily commute into Central London each day for classes, I think strange things about people. As I am rushed along by suit coats and high heeled shoes, the "business casual" I am surrounded by makes my "classroom dressy" feel like last year’s clearance items. But it's okay. I wonder about the people that are seemingly so put together and I can't help but think there is a story behind every disheveled hair bun or wrinkled suit coat. Inside the hastily latched briefcase or the designer Dolce and Gabanna tote with the broken handle, there lies pages and pages of unread personal history—private lives and secret lovers from whose flat they've just dashed in order to return to their more normal, more boring lives of conference calls and Nero Café house blends. While thinking this, I am reminded of a similar type of observation—a similar examination of things in their natural surroundings; I think of their provenance.  The place of origin, the history, where antiquities come from and in relation to what is a main focus in my Archaeology and Ethics class. Professor Stevens stresses the importance of an object’s provenance because that is what gives it contextual value and significance. The provenance of an object tells far more than just what it is, but everything that it was related to and how it came to be. While observing London, I see that the people here also have a provenance. Their contextual value lies in their diverse and multi-cultural contribution to the city of London, and they are worth exploring. Just like archaeologists observe an artifact’s provenance by noting its location, depth in the earth’s soil, wear, and relation to surrounding materials (rocks, soil, plants), I observe the people of London—their location, style, language, class, origin, wear, and relation to surrounding areas (Soho, Hampsted Heath, China Town, Brick Lane, Notting Hill or Kensington).

While comparative techniques, written and verbal records, and scientific research are used to establish provenance of ancient, archaeological artifacts, I use my senses—my eyes, ears, nose, mouth and hands. I make note of peoples’ clothing—is it expensive? Is it punky? Do the shop in Camden or at Harrods? How old are they? I listen to them. What language are they speaking? Are they native? What accent is that? One-third of London’s population is foreign born and the diversity in this city is a cultural linguist’s dreamland. I talk to them. I’ll ask directions, stop in shops to ask about the area, take suggestions and personal preferences on pubs and restaurants—it’s all the same as a dig. I find out where they’ve been, what they like, in what context, and how long they’ve been here. I contemplate their history, their story—their provenance. The people are London are living artifacts and though they cannot tell me about their native civilizations millions of years ago, they can still relate their culture to me today.  I mentally excavate the people of London.

In reality, these peoples' mornings have probably have been just as eventful as mine—as in not at all and completely brilliant at the same time. (Please note, this is also coming from someone who believes every woman in London has or has had romantic involvement with either Hugh Grant or Colin Firth—mostly because I am still waiting for the casting call of the next Bridget Jones’ Diary.) Living in London enables me to do absolutely nothing and be completely immersed in everything at the same time, contributed mostly to the mere structure of the city. Diversity is not only an event in Trafalgar Square, but it is part of daily life in London. From Brick Lane to China Town, London thrives in culture and the people who inhabit it expand their provenance by simply living.  In a place where the "Ferrari" is our "Mustang", it's no wonder that everything here moves so fast, yet that it is completely on pace. Too fast is just right.

As I trek from one borough to the next and Islington melts into the City of Westminster,  my Strands of thought Fleet across the Street.  I can't help but observe that half the people I accidentally eavesdrop on do not even speak English as their native language. I hear mixes of French and Spanish; an array of Asian and Indian languages; the occasional German or Norwegian, and occasionally but not often, I catch an American accent outside of my immediate party. Living in England, one would expect to hear the English language more, but much like the way the lines separating one borough from the next suddenly become intertwined when looking at London as a whole—the idea of being a tourist in this city is slowly deteriorating and viewing London as a Londoner is my new preferred scope of view. It is as if all of the world's outsiders are within London, and here, it seems as if anything goes. I am slowly adding pieces of London’s soil and earth to my own composition. This experience is no longer just an “experience” but a way of life. I am becoming part of someone else’s provenance as I walk with them across Charing Cross and interact with them. I have my own provenance, and being in London is now a part of that. There are times when I will stop in the middle of the street (whether it be Clerkenwell or Theobald), and I cannot believe that I am really here. I honestly do not think I will believe that I am actually living here until I depart in three months time, and at that time, I will be sad to leave behind such a beautiful city. My provenance is unreal right now.

As I become more and more comfortable with the London city life and realize that I will not be raped, battered and mugged (perhaps not in that order) at every corner street—I begin to notice things that neither a tourist nor resident of London alone can observe. It is the style of life here that one cannot observe when only visiting for a few days—their literary pride and obsession with tea and 90’s classic pop songs, among other things. Likewise, the things that I observe and ponder as an outsider that have become so neutrally numb to Londoner's—the obscure, the fashion, the music—that it is not a surprise to them any longer—it is a way of life. I feel as if I only see these things because I contrast them to American life (speaking of which, I listen to the "This American Life: NPR", which is ironic in itself) and I see so many of the less obvious differences that one can only observe as an outsider living on the inside. In my NPR, the host, Ira Glass, finds beauty and interest in ordinary people—something not usually considered in America because there, if something is ordinary, it is not worth talking about. We are all about big, expensive, and commercial. In London, this idea that the ordinary is beautiful is grasped though many London writers (also a class I am taking) such as Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway  and Ian McEwan’s  Saturday. The narrative of these novels are driven more by the characters than the actual plot. Their focus on everyday life, commentary on natural beauty and attention to detail reflect London’s attitude towards life—and that is that life is beautiful and interesting, in every aspect. Where these people live is now where I live. What these people do, what they see, I see. I am immersed in their lives, and they in mine, though I have barely met enough of them to count on two hands. These living artifacts that I encounter everyday are all part of a cultural archaeological dig that I call “study abroad”.  I now view the world through their eyes, their lens. I see London in the context of their languages, the way they dress and the music they play. I share their provenance, and they share mine.

Photo #1: Taken at Brick Lane, (Bangla: ব্রিক লেন). It is the heart of London’s Sylheti Bangladeshi community and thrives in Indian culture with curry houses and Indian markets lining the streets. The diversity of the people at Brick Lane is more eccentric and lively that I have observed in London.

 

Photo #2: Still at Brick Lane, the different colors, styles and patterns of the shoes reflects the bright, vividness of Brick Lane’s energy. Everything here is painted with intense color and exudes liveliness.

 

Photo #3: China Town. This picture introduces a road leading into the heart of China Town, just off one of the main roads leading away from Trafalgar Square. Its close proximity to the very center of the city indicates its significance within London life. The red lanterns that hang overhead reflect Chinese culture, but have become noticeable trademark of London to me, as I pass Chinatown near every day and catch wafting smells of authentic Chinese cuisine.

 

Photo #4: This picture is taken at the foot of the London Eye, just off the Thames. This picture embodies my interest in the people of London and their provenance. I stared at this picture for a  long time a week after it was taken, forgetting that I had even taken it, and remembered how the balloon chested “woman” in the background had growled at me. I wondered where she’d come from.

 

Photo #5: Taken at the Regent Street Festival, an array of ethnic groups was represented, celebrating their culture through music, dance, food and entertainment. Some young people were improvising a Shakespeare interpretation, while others were dressed in their native garb, dancing to the music of their native lands, and celebrating in their homeland.

All images and text in this essay copyright Michelle Nguyen