Under the cosy Victorian-style flats, I stumbled upon a strip of Arab stores and Arabic shop signs, accompanied by awkward English transliterations. It was a sight taken straight out of Alexandria. “Yasamin Clinic” had a large glass door with a printed, low-quality stock photo of a woman with eyes smudged with kohl. “Noor Supermarket” felt like home with its charming display of vegetables and meats facing the grubby traffic. Then there it was, in a small nook off Sussex Gardens: Koshary El Tahrir. The journey there was not easy. Rain had pierced my back as I climbed onto the double decker bus. We had to cross by the stereotypical London tourist sites – Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Covent Garden. All that this renowned scenery could elicit from me was a casual, routine glance. Initially, I was thrilled to arrive in the United Kingdom as an international student, enamoured by the range of multicultural backgrounds I encountered. It was astonishing how every crevice of London was filled to the brim with illustrious landmarks. Optimistically, I hoped to learn everything I could about the UK to integrate effectively. Yet, that initial charm…
