At a huge station the train again stopped and everyone in the carriage
got out I said to myself doubtfully that this must be London. A porter
came to the door, looked round the carriage, and then stared at me.
I said to him "Laundaun?" He said, "Yes, London." So I got out and
he took my bag. Whither was I going now? I was going to a place of
which the name was written in my pocket-book, no less a place than
Olympia. It was the year that some enterprising Israelite gentlemen
had undertaken to represent Constantinople in London, and they sent
an agent to Constantinople to bring over some Turks as boatmen, and
to perform other services in their show. The agent whom I met at the
Turkish capital did not, however, succeed in bringing a single Turk,
as the police, by order of the Sultan, would not allow any such men
to leave Turkey. The agent therefore engaged some Greeks as boatmen,
and some Jews came to set up stalls of embroidery and other things at
Olympia. I hoped that some of these people would help me in finding a
lodging. I said to the porter at King's Cross station "Olympia?" and
he nodded and said "Yes, Kensington," and signed to me to follow him
through a subterranean passage down to the Underground, and put me
into a train which I believe was not going direct to Olympia I lost my
way in the Underground, got out at many stations, changed often into
many trains, and paid several fares. It was nearly dark by now, and
the trains were all full. I mixed up Kensington, of which the porter
had told me, with the somewhat similar name of Kennington. I found it
very trying to rush in and out at every station with my heavy bag in
my hand. Many people laughed at my stupid excitement, but some, better
bred than the others, attempted to assist me, though their efforts
were not of much use to a person who was practically speechless. At
one station my French vocabulary came to my assistance, so I succeeded
in hiring a boy to come with me, and at last I got to Addison Road
station. Outside Olympia I saw a man with a red fez on his head, and
wearing some sort of odd Oriental dress which I had never seen in
Turkey. I spoke to this man in Turkish, and from his accent discovered
that he was a Turkish Jew. Through this fellow I engaged a room in a
neighbouring lodging-house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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