The Scent of London

About six hours after leaving Riyadh, the aeroplane landed at Heathrow Airport in London.

The night was already well advanced, but the moment I stepped out of Heathrow, something greeted me that I have never forgotten:

The scent of the air.

It was cold, pure and invigorating in a way I was not accustomed to. I breathed deeply, as though I were discovering air for the first time.

It was the end of April 2009, and spring had begun to announce itself. The trees were regaining their green, the flowers were opening, and London looked just as it had in my father’s photographs and in films…

Except that this time, it was before me.

I climbed into one of London’s famous black cabs and sat watching the city through the window.

The stately buildings, red buses, black cabs, trees, streets and people walking along the pavements…

Everything was new.

I arrived at a hotel near the Saudi Cultural Bureau in the quiet, elegant district of Chiswick. I put down my luggage, then went out in search of dinner.

I walked along the broad pavement of Chiswick High Road, wearing my coat as the cool breeze caressed my face, interspersed with the gentlest flecks of rain.

It was a beautiful kind of cold.

I found a quiet Italian restaurant. The waitress welcomed me with a smile and genuine warmth, and I sat in a corner overlooking Chiswick High Road.

A small candle stood before me, and soft jazz music played in the background—music I have never forgotten.

As I waited for my dinner, watching people walk along the street and cars pass by, I remembered that only hours earlier I had been crying as I said goodbye to my mother, my siblings and my friends in Riyadh.

And now I was sitting in London, far from home…

On a new page of my life.

The following morning, I stepped into streets bathed in spring light, beneath clear skies and pure air, and walked to the Saudi Cultural Bureau. I registered my details, handed over the documents I had brought from Riyadh and completed the formalities.

Then I returned to the hotel, collected my luggage and made my way to the famous, historic King’s Cross railway station.

London was not my final destination.

I had to travel farther…

To historic York.