Love Letters From London: On Being Alright

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Before coming to London, I researched the city diligently. Through film, books, and Reddit threads, I hoped to sidestep the embarrassment of being new to the city. Armed with my knowledge, I stood on the right side of the Tube escalator, sped up my walking pace, and patented a quasi-discreet camera angle to capture tourist sites ( which according to my friends wasnโ€™t very discreet at all, just a little silly). I thought myself undetectable as a foreigner, at least until I opened my mouth.

Still, there are things that Sliding Doors (2002) and r/London hadnโ€™t forewarned me about, for example, certain linguistic quirks I hadnโ€™t picked up on. One example is the proliferation of the phrase โ€œYou alright, love?โ€ After three weeks of feeling looked after by strangers on the street, I had a British professor break the illusion. She informed the class that Englanders use โ€œYou alright?โ€™ to mean any manner of sentiments including but not limited to: โ€œHelloโ€, โ€œHow are you?โ€, โ€œWhat are you doing?โ€, โ€œYou need to leaveโ€, etc. The secret, she said, lies with the tone. Luckily, all my encounters with the question had been friendly at best, neutral at worst. Still, it amuses me how impressed Iโ€™d been with what I assumed to be a culture-wide valuation of othersโ€™ well-being. Now when I hear those fateful words, my ears perk up, eager to discern some previously missed nuance.