The 25 Bus to Ilford

One of the most wonderful things about public transportation, perhaps second only to not having to waste your eyes and attention on driving, is eavesdropping on others.  I rarely stuff my ears with buds when I’m out in the city, because I like to hear it.  I like to hear them: the countless individuals immersed in their own private lives while passing through our shared air.  A few years ago I was on Metro on my way home from Spanish class and I had the thrill of actually comprehending a conversation between two Spanish-speakers.  I was so excited I almost tipped them off that I was listening, but that didn’t seem fair. At least they weren’t talking about me. In London, where I just spent almost a month, language isn’t a barrier—well, not much of one—and eavesdropping is easy and entertaining.  So I did a lot of listening from my favorite seat in the front window on the top floor of the double-decker bus. 

Here’s one of my favorites from the 25 bus to Ilford, transcribed as accurately as possible.  The two were both from elsewhere.  She was Polish; he was Colombian.  Their conversation touched on the timely problematic of migration and globalism, and also the eternal questions of belonging:  what is it to be “English”? To be Polish? Is it something given or acquired? And, what about the hydrogen...

She:       What makes someone English? 

He:         Your behavior has changed since you came to England.
She:       Who stays the same? I’ve been here for 6 years; I’m not 15 anymore.  Am I Polish still?
He:         When someone asks you where you’re from it’s not the same as who you are.
She:       If I tell you I love Colombia it doesn’t make me Spanish.
He          (pause) So, the hydrogen.  Where did it all come from?  If all the elements were formed from hydrogen, then where did the hydrogen come from?
She:       (looking out the window as we roll down Whitechapel) That’s my dentist. He fucked up my bridge.
He:         Where did it come from? You know what I think?  The existence of hydrogen is proof of god.

The bus passed the East London Mosque stop, and then the next one was mine.  I thought about staying on a bit longer just to hear where the conversation might go.