[Mb-civic] Love Song for London - Washington Post

[William Swiggard]

Love Song for London

By Ariel Dorfman
Saturday, July 9, 2005; Page A15

It was the summer of 1951, and London took me by storm. It was gentle, 
that storm, sweeping a child barely 9 years old, on his first trip to 
Europe, into a love affair that has lasted more than half a century. 
Some of that charm was no doubt the enchantment London exercises on any 
first-time visitor, young or old: the postcard moments of double-decker 
buses and the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace; London Bridge, 
which was not falling down, and the dreaded Tower; and those swans and 
ancient oaks in majestic parks. But it is one experience that softly 
burned itself into my memory that returns now to comfort me as I grieve 
and rage over the violation inflicted on the city that gave me such an 
extraordinary welcome.

Even so, there was one thing in that metropolis that disappointed and 
indeed disgusted me and made me yearn for my home in New York. 
Unsurprisingly, it was the food. For an Argentine brat reared in the 
United States, used to whole milk and Rice Krispies and perfect ketchup 
on juicy hamburgers, English meals were excruciating. My parents had 
patiently explained that there was still rationing in that country, that 
the ravages of war could still be seen in the streets, and when we had 
gone down into the tube ("Why do they call it a tube and not a subway, 
like in Manhattan?") my father had told me about how Londoners had 
sought refuge there during the Blitz. I was, therefore, to be on my best 
behavior and not complain. But that sausage that I had eagerly bit into 
was not a hot dog; it was a mixture of sawdust and fat, so that each 
meal had become an occasion for whining and revulsion.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/07/08/AR2005070801686.html
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