From the hustle and bustle of the bazaar, i enter into another world... a world underground. We descend, escalator upon escalator, into the underground passageways of the deepest station in the middle east. Proceeding towards the glass barriers (no need for a ticket as it is free for all due to it being the international day of Al Quds), i gaze in amazement at the HD quality photos of freedom protests from all over the middle east that align the hallway, one after another, and marvel at the incredible Islamic calligraphy that beautifies the station. The cleanliness is imminent; the radiance of the lights above is somewhat reflected on the immaculate tiles that pave the way towards the metro. Waiting for our train, i glance up at an electronic diagram that displays the route of my train, a virtual symbol showing at which station it is currently present.
The space is what hits you. Not to mention women-only sections in the carriages for sisters who are particular about their Hijab. The screens within the train play supplications as well as cartoons for children, pausing only for the announcement of the approaching station. Intuitively comparing what is before me with that which is more familiar (London underground), i am compelled to admit that had i not 'known better', i would think Britain to be a third world country.
The space is what hits you. Not to mention women-only sections in the carriages for sisters who are particular about their Hijab. The screens within the train play supplications as well as cartoons for children, pausing only for the announcement of the approaching station. Intuitively comparing what is before me with that which is more familiar (London underground), i am compelled to admit that had i not 'known better', i would think Britain to be a third world country.
No comments:
Post a Comment