In wake of bombings, keeping stiff upper lip

LONDON -- At first I thought the news was innocuous, probably just a scheme from the Irish Republican Army.

But when people began to run frantically around our Victorian house in Notting Hill, it quickly became apparent that this was different, that this was terror.

Walking into the common room, which also serves as our classroom, and finding 20 kids fixated on the news coming across the TV screen when they should have been discussing ancient Greek theater brought back a memory no one in our generation will ever forget -- September 11, 2001.

We spent hours in anguish waiting for word that everyone in the program was out of harm's way. When the news finally filtered through the house, there was a sigh of relief, but many were visibly shaken. Before the news anchors could tell us, we all knew: We knew this was hardly different from what happened nearly four years ago.

Having gone through the horror previously helped many deal with the shock, but it did not dissipate the fear that a terrorist attack inevitably creates. Yet, no one was afraid to leave the house.

By dinnertime, many were too restless to stay inside any longer. We had to get out, we had to try to live the experience we came to London to explore. The streets were quieter than normal as we walked to the pubs. The buses were virtually empty. But as we came upon our pub, it looked no different from the way the classic British watering holes look on any other night.

It was reassuring to know that Londoners were not fazed by the attacks. They have been through plenty of IRA bombings, they know what it's like -- just like we know what it's like.

Still, getting on the subway Friday afternoon was nerve-wracking. The usually busy South Kensington station, in the heart of one of London's many shopping areas, was virtually empty. On a normal day it is difficult to keep track of everyone you are with on the subway, but this was no normal day.

As the train rattled up to the platform, my knees felt a little weak, my head got a little lighter and I swear my heartbeat was coming from my stomach. There was enough room on the train to take a seat, which never happens, so I sat down.

There was an almost-unnatural silence in the carriage. Some people sat with their heads down; others were alert and slowly scanning the scene, and then there were those -- myself included -- holding newspapers covered with the faces of the injured, the dead, the missing.

The ride was not an easy one to take. I could have taken a bus, a taxi. But it was something I needed to do, something we all need to do in the face of terror.

We have to show the terrorists we will not let them shake our beliefs. We have to show the terrorists that we are not afraid.

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