Regents Canal: In which I escape from city life, converse with a stranger, and harangue about rude cyclists.

Regents Canal is a hidden gem.  Buried amidst the hustle and bustle of city life, one doesn’t expect to stumble upon a body of water with a pedestrian walkway while one is taking a morning walk through London.  At least, I didn’t expect to stumble upon it.  But that’s exactly what happened two weeks ago.  I left my house with no particular intention, only to become more familiar with my neighborhood, find a new favorite lunch or coffee spot, decide upon my future dream housing complex, etc.  Such intentions were completely derailed when I found Regents Canal. 
 
I was, and continue to be, delighted at my discovery.  Granted, millions of people before me have discovered, indeed created, this place, but it’s a place not often frequented by tourists.  Regents Canal is a wonderful, picturesque break from city life without the same jam-packed feel of, say, Hyde Park or Russell Square (which are lovely too, don’t get me wrong, but often overcrowded).  Boats dot the walls of the canal on either side; tangled vines grow along the walls separating the walkway from the motor traffic; the water gleams not quite blue or green, but instead silver, metallic but soft.
 
Although there are plenty of people always around the canal – pedestrians, bicyclists, joggers, and boaters alike – there don’t appear to be many tourists.  It seems to be a great meeting place; it’s not uncommon to see friends greeting one another for a walk or jog, or even for strangers to strike up conversations with one another. 
 
While on my morning walk, I stopped for a moment on a small landing, gazing out at the water.  As I stood there, a woman I’d never met before approached me, and I was filled with apprehension.  What did she want from me?  I wasn’t in the mood to be hassled.  But she only wanted to know if I knew about the rules for bicyclists on the canal.  I didn’t know, of course, but heartily agreed with her that they were rather annoying (sorry to any bicyclists, but look, when you’re clogging up the whole pavement, don’t give me the dirty look when I don’t immediately jump aside!).  We harangued together about bicyclists, then conversation turned to locations (as it turned out, she went to Barnard College and her father taught at NYU.  Small world), and how we’d both ended up in our respective cities.  It wasn’t a particularly long exchange, and we didn’t even trade names, but I walked away from both her and the canal feeling at ease.  Rejuvenated by my break by the water, I was ready to reenter the congestion of city life.
 
That in particular surprised me about Regents Canal, the ease with which strangers interact.  In London – in any city I’ve ever been to – strangers generally only chat to one another if they are in want of directions or money.  Here, however, has been carved a different sort of space.  A space without any want but to be there.  Much as I adore living in cities, there’s something comforting about knowing that, whenever urban life starts to swell around me, I can go to a place in which neither location nor people are buried under the city’s weight – even if only for a few moments.