Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Isabel Losada has worked as an actress, singer, television producer, and full-time single parent. She is the author of The Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment, which is a bestseller in twelve countries. She really does live on Battersea Park Road, in London.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

Tired of being an armchair activist, Isabel Losada decides to take matters into her own hands. From the streets of London to the temples of Dharamsala, in this adventure, Isabel falls in love with a monk, impersonates a member of the Chinese army, starts an activist organization, breaks the law, puts lives at risk (including her own), and appears on the news around the world. In the end, she meets the Dalai Lama to ask him the crucial question, "Can one person make a difference?"

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

A Beginner's Guide to Changing the World

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Chapter One

The Beginning of the Beginning

Wenesdays Between Six and Eight

This being the twenty-first century, "the man who moves a mountainstarts with one small click." Whatever it is you want to do tochange the world, the first step is now to switch on a computer. Mycomputer skills are of a fairly basic kind, but I know that there is abutler somewhere in my machine, called Jeeves, and I can ask himanything I want, from "Is there life after death?" to "What shall Ido on Friday evening?" I don't really see Jeeves as a political activist,but he's a mine of information. So I asked him, "What can Ido about Tibet?" and he told me that on Wednesdays between6 p.m. and 8 p.m. there is a demonstration against the Chinese occupationoutside the Chinese embassy, just down the road from theBBC in Portland Place, London.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd demonstrated for oragainst anything. My last book, The Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment, is an exploration of personal happiness. Happiness is a great subject, and being happy ourselves is perhaps the best contributionthat we can make to the world. On the other hand, I realized thatthe critics who had accused me of tummy-button gazing wereright. I know about the world inside me, but I have no experience in trying to change anything not sporting my navel. Reflecting onthis, I was filled with shame. As a student I'd joined a march withThe Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) and the antiapartheidmovement, and since then I've written two letters forGreenpeace. Perhaps there is a balance, but I'd leaned over so farone way I'd fallen asleep. Standing outside the Chinese embassy fortwo hours may not be doing much, but it would be more than I'ddone for the last ten years.

When the day came, I found myself wondering what you wearto demonstrate. Don't sigh. I don't mean the right Ab Fab fashion.But there is a dilemma. If you wear clothes in which you can sit onthe pavement and keep dry if it rains, you soon look scruffy and fitfar too easily into a category where the Chinese officials and the policecan just see "troublemakers." So I arrived in shorts and a whitetop on my trusty two-wheeler, to find a very small crowd in anoraksand raincoats. If you can call eight people a crowd.

Should you ever venture down Portland Place early on aWednesday evening, you could be forgiven for being confused. Apparentlythere is an international law that protects embassies in allcountries. If you want to demonstrate outside an embassy, you areobliged to stand on the other side of the road. Fortunately for theChinese, it happens that Portland Place, where they are luckyenough to have their embassy, is a very wide road. So what you seeis a group of demonstrators outside the Royal Institute of BritishArchitects. Car drivers stare curiously at them, presumably thinkingthat there really are some ugly buildings in the United Kingdom,but what could the vexed individuals be demanding?

Meanwhile, the night that I cycled up, peace reigned in thebuilding opposite. No flag was flying to indicate to passersby that itwas an embassy. The windows were closed, and the shutters weredown. It looked totally deserted.

A delightful character with a long beard and long straggly hairarrived and pulled out his homemade banners from a bag that hecarried on his back while wobbling along on his bike. The banners said, "Free Tibet," "China out of Tibet," "Free the Panchen Lama—the World's Youngest Political Prisoner," "Stop Enforced Birth Controlin Tibet," "Stop Nuclear Dumping in Tibet," "Stop HumanRights Abuses in Tibet." Huge issues painted with poster paints onold pieces of cardboard.

"Hello. Which one would you like?" said the bearded character.

I rather liked "Beep Your Horn for Tibet," but someone else tookthat. "I'll take that big Tibetan flag on the bamboo pole, please," Isaid. "Thank you."

I looked at my fellow demonstrators and considered the might ofthe continent of China. One or two ladies in their sixties. One worea T-shirt—"Don't kill the elephants." The other looked like a memberof the Women's Institute or the Mothers' Union. One manwore a large straw hat and had a horn that, he informed me, he'dbought at the Notting Hill Carnival. He wore sandals that werefalling apart, and most of the buttons had long since parted companywith his shirt. I smiled at him, and he leaned towards me andwhispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I've heard some bad news . . ."

"Oh?" I said, noticing his flushed red face and swollen stomach.

"About Colombia . . . but don't tell anyone . . ."

I said, "I don't know anything about Colombia. So perhapsyou'd better not tell me."

I looked at him, and he honked his horn. No one else spoke tohim.

In fact the demonstrators didn't seem to talk much to eachother. One very tall and thin man gave off "don't talk to me" vibeswith every ounce of nonverbal communication that a human beingis capable of. He looked very uncomfortable and avoided my eye asI attempted to smile at him. Two women talked between themselves;they seemed to have been demonstrating for many years andmaybe they were tired of people who turned up once and nevercame back. They didn't approach me, so I didn't approach them.

Then the remaining lady said, "Hello. I'm Paula." She must havebeen in her forties or early fifties ...

Excerpted from A Beginner's Guide to Changing the Worldby Isabel Losada Copyright © 2006 by Isabel Losada. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.