From the airport, it wasn't really bad at all. It was not cold but it wasn't warm either. And oh, so many Indians there. At the immigration, like in any other major international airports, passport control is divided between foreign and local passport holders and there was a sign that I couldn't ignore. It read "EU Citizens". And on another sign it said, "All other passports" and I followed it. It was rather crowded and the queue was about a mile long. I sighed when it will ever be my turn. Like me, many of those who were in the queue couldn't help but glance at the other sign and wished we belonged there. I watched with a little envy at the citizens who looked rather dignified as they rush towards their passport control section. I said dignified because they all held their head too high unmindful of their way. But it was a dignity that was humbled from time to time by a piece of carpet that was sticking out in their way. Looking too far beyond, many of them tripped and I couldn't help but giggle in my head at the sight of them .
Was I nervous? Of course I was. But the lady who interviewed me, whom I'm sure was an Islam because she's wearing a head cover, was actually very nice. She just asked me a couple of questions. "Why did you come to the UK?, and What is the name of your sponsor?" After I answered them she stamped my passport, to my great relief, and off I went to the waiting area.
Still I had not felt the cold. I had to sit somewhere while waiting for my then boyfriend, Frankie. Such a big airport and very busy, Heathrow didn't impress me much as a modern building. I was more anxious than excited I think. But I noticed everyone was wearing black or at least dark coat while I was wearing bright pink! I felt conscious being different and probably standing out from the crowd and you know how I hate that. I want to be inhibited. Finally, Frank arrived and we hugged. The first thing he said was, "I can't believe you're here." Neither did I.
to be continued....