London encounters (3)

I mosey through Hyde Park, following the lake aimlessly. Blissfully. It's sunny and I am in London. Walking along the Serpentine. My right hand fidgets with a five pence coin. The closest thing I have to a shilling. 

"Hello lady. How are you?"

Is he? Yes. He is speaking to me.

I stop walking and smile warmly. "Hello!"

Never did learn the "don't speak to strangers" rule. Neatly dressed and carrying a satchel bag in his left hand. Short greying hair. Foreign. Maybe a bit lost.

"Do you know how to get to Victoria Coach Station from here?"

I answer vaguely, not sure of the answer. Hyde Park Tube Station is over that way. Maybe keep heading straight ahead. I think.

We begin walking in the same direction, talking as strangers do.

Are you British? No I'm American. He's Iranian and lives in southwest England.
Why are you in London? I'm a student. He's visiting a friend.
How long have you been in the city? Two months. His first visit, just for the day.
Do you like it? Yes, I love it here. So does he. We could both see ourselves living in London.

We talk about my courses. His uncle in Detroit. I want to be a librarian. I'm always telling strangers that I want to be a librarian. He wants to practice his English.

I say I'm turning left when we come to the end of Serpentine Road. Though he's friendly and the conversation pleasant, (I bet he can't tell how old I am. How young I am.) I am on guard. Wary.
We share a warm goodbye. Shaking my hand, he says, "My name is Amin." 

"I'm Lois. It was lovely to meet you." And I do mean it.

My feet follow a path that veers back toward the Serpentine. Our conversation had led me farther than I had meant to travel. No matter, maybe I'll get an ice cream. 

I rejoice in this small interaction. Seven billion people on this earth and I've just met another--made contact. How many more? While trying to make sense of the Cavalry Memorial (is that statue supposed to be St. George trampling a dragon?), I dwell on my secret life goal of making contact with as many human lives as possible.

Until I hear my name. "Louis, Louis." Well, it's supposed to be my name. Amin comes running up behind me. "I have a hard question to ask you!"

Oh dear.

"Can I have your phone number?"

And this, dear friends, is an excellent reason not to have a cell phone. "I don't have one, sorry."

"What about facebook? Email?"

My hesitation lasts a moment too long; he senses my unease. In broken English, he rambles about how he is bad at this, how his friends say he is too forward, how I am such a nice American girl, how he likes me very much. He stops and finally asks.

How old are you? Nineteen. He is thirty-four.

Penny drops. But it does not deter him from asking the real "hard question."

"You are young. But I want for us to talk more and you to help me with my English. For you to teach me. Then we can be friends and one day get married, yes?"

Oh. Nervous laughter. A fidgety smile. He is waiting for my response.

"Um.. I don't know." You don't know? He wants to marry you and you "don't know?" Oh honestly. 

As I mentally berate myself (too nice get a backbone), Amin fishes around for a scrap of paper. Taking out a pen, he writes his name down on a card. I am to look him up on Facebook. Add him as a friend. And that's A-m-i-n and M-b-zed.

"If you don't add me, that's okay. If you do, I will be very very happy."

Nodding an okay, I take his card. We shake hands for an extraordinary length of time; nice to meet you's and have a good day's are exchanged. And then I finally turn to go, eager to avoid any further engagement. I feel like laughing.

I buy an ice cream at the nearest cafe.

~L