London, Going Forward

The day's high point came an hour later. Strolling through the damp grass of the heath and down a few streets, they ended up at Highgate Cemetery. Put off at first by the $3 entrance fee, they would soon see why. The burial ground is a veritable outdoor sculpture museum, a remarkably well-preserved trove of intricate headstones, including that of Karl Marx. Many were covered with moss and sinking into the earth.

In the cozy town of Highgate, they looked around for a glimpse of Sting, Annie Lennox or George Michael, who have homes here. But they saw only neighborhood residents sipping tea at the Village Cafe.

Never mind. "We have managed to go all morning without thinking about terrorists," said Helmut Kraus. "That was worth the train ticket."

Solace and Suffering

The announcement promised a look at the methods various cultures used to cope with tragedy and adversity. The venue was the British Museum. About 20 peolpe, including 10 Londoners, showed up.

The followers of Taoism in China, explained Anne Beale, a volunteer docent, first made bamboo replicas of familiar objects, then burned them. The reason: so negative spirits would not follow them in later life.

Other displays were more elaborate. The women of Collingwood Bay, North Papua New Guinea, paint clay on their skin and let it stay there for months. In Oruro, Bolivia, residents don costumes and parade through the streets, making offerings to the earth to ensure that they will produce crops. "They believe that illness and misfortune result from failure to make these offerings," Beale explained. Egyptians put colorful necklaces on their donkeys to ward off evil spirits.

Quotations from writers about pain, suffering and loss were spread across one wall of the museum.

After the 45-minute program, most of the group stayed to pose questions. "I wonder if in the next century, other countries will have an exhibition on how we have two minutes of silence and then try to bring closure?" a Londoner asked.

Ale and Frank Chatter

The couches and armchairs scattered across two rooms were reminiscent of a cafe or grunge lounge. The board games, piled on shelves for anyone to use, seemed more appropriate for a college dorm. The books covering one wall added an academic touch.

One look around and it was clear that the Prince Albert, a basic-looking, green and white structure a few blocks from the Angel Tube station in Islington, was a different kind of pub. "Go and sit in a corner and you're guaranteed to hear hot debate on the topic of the day," a friend had told me. "They try to be a place for serious debate."

After patrons had a round or two of ale, the Prince Albert began to warm up.

"Right," cried out one twentysomething man. "I've not seen [Prime Minister] Tony Blair down in the Tube lately. It's the likes of us that are on the front lines."

"Come to think of it, not too many Yanks are down there either," offered a thin man with a scruffy beard.

"It does make you think about what we're doing in this war, anyway," said a third. "Play with fire and of course you're going to get it back in your face."

These were the voices of London reflecting on their plight. As the evening progressed, the conversation turned to other probing questions: Why do some groups resort to terrorist violence? What should Blair do to alleviate tension with Arabs? How to explain this crisis to the children? By 11 o'clock, when the bartender made last call, the conversation seemed just to be getting starting.

T-Shirt Diplomacy

At 5 o'clock Thursday afternoon, the Bakerloo line Underground train was nearly full. A week after the July 21 explosions, Londoners and visitors seemed to be returning, cautiously, to the trains and buses. Some read the evening papers or books. Others chatted quietly.

When a young couple entered the train, everyone suddenly looked up. They were wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the words "We're Not Afraid." But the shirts, a common sight now around London, were not what was attracting attention. It was their expressions. Both were smiling brightly. As they made their way into the train, nearly everyone they passed smiled back.

Gary Lee will be online to discuss this story Monday at 2 p.m. during the Travel section's regular weekly chat onhttp://www.washingtonpost.com.