A Walk in the Park

When British meteorologists correctly predict a day that reaches "a blistering 80 degrees," Londoners strip down and take to the streets.

Pubs, cafes and restaurants set up tables on the sidewalks and sun worshipers line up to get one of the coveted seats. Some of us might shy away from eating egg mayonnaise while sitting in full sun but the sun-starved Brits are fearless.

After sixteen years of living among Northern and Central Europeans who are deprived of regular sunshine, I can confidently state that they don't often follow doctor's orders about staying out it or using sunscreen when they are in it.

No, they are the fair ones who plop down on a beach in Majorca or Greece or Turkey and bake until they are lobster red. They're the ones who face the sun with a reflector tucked under their chins to attract even more rays. They're the ones who will decide that the perfect time to take a hike or mount their bikes on a sultry Tuscan summer day is when the sun is highest. When Noel Coward sang "mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun," he knew what he was talking about.

Here in London, the entire mood of the city lifts palpably when the weather is warm and sunny. Right now you can add the excitement of the coming World Cup and Wimbledon, and the atmosphere is positively festive.

Aside from pubs and cafes, Londoners flock to one of the city's parks. Our local one is Regent's Park, which I think is the most beautiful in town. Stroll through it on a warm sunny day and you will partake of a living theater.

The fields are full of people playing soccer, flying kites, having picnics, taking naps, cuddling and kissing, reading, romping with dogs, walking babies, riding bikes, running, playing frisbee. You might see a group of cricketers, dressed in white, sharing a bottle of champagne under a small tent. Or a dance troupe rehearsing. Couples row boats or paddle by on the lake. Children throw bread to the ducks. There is an old-fashioned bandstand on which there might be musical entertainment. There could be a Somalian wedding taking place in one of the side gardens.

It is called "ice cream weather" so the Brits patiently line up (queue) twenty deep to get theirs from the vendors around the park.

You'll hear snatches of conversation: "They had those lovely chili prawns there." "Did I tell you that one of those bloody swans almost bit me last week?" "Darling, I quite fancy a pizza tonight."

One sure sight: half-naked Brits baking under the hot sun. Bikinis, Speedos, underwear, anything goes when the weather is warm.

This is London, so there are Pakistani families here, Indian families there, and families from all over the Middle East everywhere.

Often those women are scarfed, and sometimes they wear the shapeless black chador, with everything but their faces covered, and sometimes even those are shielded up to the eyes.

I've heard that some of them are not forced to wear the chador but choose to do so for religious and political reasons. I'm thinking how convenient it is for them. They can get fat, fore go make-up, have bad hair days and go out in their nightgowns if they want to. Who would know?

I try to be open-minded, but the truth is seeing that garment makes me angry. The idea behind it is that the woman is preserving her modesty, that the sight of her hair or female form might cause men to think impure thoughts (as if the mystery of what lies beneath the veil doesn't arouse a few fantasies). A woman who chooses to wear it perpetuates that idea and does her sisters who are forced to wear it no favors by embracing it.

There is a law in Italy that no one may enter a public building without his/her face being visible. Recently a woman in full chador was fined 500 euros for entering a post office, the first time the law was enforced. Her family was incensed.The Italian authorities held their ground, saying that a motorcyclist with a helmet covering his face would have been treated the same way. Her husband responded by saying that he would have to "keep her at home because I can't have other men looking at her."

Let's go back to the park, where I noticed a woman in full chador sitting in the grass with her husband. Only her eyes were visible. They may have thought that if she removed the long black coat, gloves and veil that she wore in the hot sun all the men in the park would stop what they were doing and lose control of themselves. The cricketers would drop their bats at the sight of her hair. The guy kissing his girlfriend would be distracted by the sight of her wrist. Men would leave their places in the ice cream queue after a glimpse of her ankle.

I'm betting she could have stripped down to her underwear and those men would not have noticed. Why would they when the lawns were full of sunbathing women (and men)? They would have more interest in the soccer match being played across the field, the kite that couldn't catch the wind, or even what ice cream flavor they were going to choose if they ever got to the front of the line.