Emily C

We walk through a doorway, transitioning for a few yards (or meters) from the finished, if a bit dingy world of baggage claims and customs, to some darker, unpolished portion of the Heathrow airport, lined with security officials. We turn left, then right, and now we're back into the light, facing a crowd of people with signs. 

I see Satyen's sign before his face -- the blue EF symbol swirling across the eight and a half by eleven, then the bald-shaven man, whose name I've learned on paper, but can't exactly pronounce yet, is in my sight, but gone just as quickly as the flow of foot traffic pulls me over and to the left, where our dazed group envelops other travelers and waits for our guide. 

Satyen, whose name I've now learned is Indian, and has to be pronounced fully -- saht-ee-yen -- ushers us to the bus, learning our names as we pass by. He's excited to meet us, asking about surnames, expressing some excitement upon hearing the name Gavin. He keeps us awake through the haze of upwards of twenty four hours without sleep via a stream of information and energetic remarks about his amazement at being alive. "Eighty percent water! How is it I'm not just a puddle on the floor?" Between the enthusiasm and the accent, we're awake. 

Throughout the day, as we learn about the obelisk damaged by a World War One zeppelin along the River Thames, and the London eye, and countless war memorials, we also get a glimpse into Satyen's life. Ever the Irishman, he jokes with Mr. Galanis about fighting the English. As we discuss the differences between British and American school systems (American "public" school translates into British "private"... Yes, it's confusing), I hear about his son, Indra, who was born three months premature, and how our guide isn't sure where he'll send his child to school. He talks about an alternative to regular schooling, one where kids learn to interact and explore, and I think of Montessori and Renaissance. 

As we stand in Trafalgar Square, looking down Baker Street, Satyen remarks about how David Cameron is a dork, and the Brits really preferred Tony Blair. He points to the Olympic Clock in front of the Natural Gallery, saying that Londoners aren't quite sure what the artists behind the Olympic symbol did with themselves, as it looks like some sort of deconstructed swastika. "Well look at it! What were they doing with all that money?" From then on, it's all we see when we look at the jagged geometry. 

Satyen is a reminder of two things: how small the world is in some places, and how big it really is. Satyen is an Irishman who spent part of his childhood in India, who lives in Western England, who brings groups of Canadians and Americans (who he claims are his favorites) all around Europe and speaks five languages. In some places, international travel is just a few hours on a train. But at the same time, his remarks about the girth and diversity of the US in comparison to Europe remind us that geography, while it is bridged by Internet and television and planes, still limits many. We remember to value our travel and our lives. Like Satyen said as we first entered the bus, it is great to be alive, great that we aren't just puddles on the floor. 

-Emily
Grade 11