Yesterday

Yesterday has been a very hard day. The sky was grey and the weather was windy and cold. I was in Aldgate East tube station waiting for my train to approach: people all around me were silent in their coats, wind was blowing so cold through the galleries and the train kept me waiting for ten minutes in this unreal place. As the appointment I had previously arranged for the afternoon has been anticipated, I didn't even had the time to get a shower or prepare myself properly to see another house. Yet, tired since the night before, my mood wasn't exactly the right one to start another hectic day in London. I didn't even enjoy the journey on the double-decker, and that's obviously a sign that something was wrong with me. 

Aldgate East tube station.

As I arrived in Whitechapel, I almost got lost and I had to ask to a Pakistani shopkeeper for informations, as I still don't have a proper map. I arrived late on my appointment - everything seemed to say "It's not your day", and maybe it would have been better for me to remain in my bed, as I didn't really enjoy what was about to happen. I entered the small apartment in a sort of University Block of Flats called Paymal House. On my left, a door led through the kitchen: a tiny room, so dirty that I almost had to hold my breath. The sink was full of dirty stuff, the shelves looked sticky, all the households were -for unknown reasons- lying on the sticky floor, in a jungle of cables and dust. A creepy staircase lead upstairs, where I have been shown the most squalid bedroom EVER. The bed consisted in nothing but a stained mattress, with no linen, stuffed with a mass of unidentified objects and clothes. The only thing I was able to spot was a laptop, the only sign of a person actually living there. Between the bed and the small window, there were a tiny wardrobe and a chest of drawers, turned upside down. In the small space between me and the wall, there was another mattress which I've been told could have been used for "my overnight guests": I think not even a rat or a homeless dog would have slept on this dusty, mouldy, stained, horrible...thing. Without even checking the toilets, I said thank you to the guy who showed me the room - who was, in the while, begging me to let him know as soon as possible if I intended to rent his room, as he was going to be kicked out in two days since he can't afford to pay the rent. I run back to the bus stop, so tired and depressed by what I had just seen and by the fact that I actually wasted my morning for nothing. But then, on my way back home,  I received a very good news: on Saturday, I can move to the place in Dollis Hill. It will be temporary, but yet it's a good news, isn't it? I immediately started seing things more positively, and I enjoyed the way back on the double-decker much more than the previous morning. I also noticed that, passing through Stamford Hill quartier, the streets were crowded of people wearing unusual clothes and big black hats: a large community of Ortodox Jewish lives there and they keep their traditional clothes and hairstyle, with typical side curls. 

An Ortodox Jewish in Stamford Hill.

As I came back home, I still had a feeling of dirty and sticky and the images of that awful place were still so clear in my mind, that first of all I had a massive carbohydrates lunch to restore my spirit and then I had to wash myself, my room, the shower, the kitchen, and then myself again, in order to take this bad feelings away from me and finally enjoy what remained of the day.