My Fair (Stranger) Lady: In which I discuss the Londoner’s willingness to converse with strangers.

I think that I’ve had conversations with more random people during these past four months in London than I ever have during my two and a half years in NYC or my eighteen years in Seattle.  By a conversation, I mean more than an “excuse me” as I bump into someone on the sidewalk, or a “grande latte with skim” to a barista.  I mean an actual exchange of thoughts, whether about our personal lives, popular culture, and/or aspects of England.  People in the other big cities I’ve lived in tend to keep to themselves and their already-established networks.  Here, however, speaking with strangers seems to be not only socially acceptable, but socially desirable.
 
Am I more open to speaking with people than I used to be?  Are Londoners friendlier than New Yorkers and Seattleites?  Is there something about my Americanness that prompts people to strike up conversations?  Is there something about London itself that fills people with the urge to connect with strangers?  I’ve struggled and failed to come up with answers to these questions, but the fact remains that I’ve had many more temporary, but nonetheless meaningful, encounters with strangers here in London than I’ve ever had in my life.
 
One of my favorite chance encounters with a stranger occurred last month at a bus stop.  The stranger, a middle-aged woman with a face framed by blonde locks and with a voice like Audrey Hepburn, opened conversation by complimenting my dress.  I thanked her and was about to tell her where I’d purchased it, but then hesitated, because the dress was from an American store and I’d had enough American-cultural-awkwardness already that week.  The woman, whose name I soon learned was Alice, was nonplussed by my klutzy conversation skills, and continued to talk excitedly to me about how she couldn’t wait to get home and watch some political talk show, because tonight was the debate between so-and-so.  At this point, I decided to stop masquerading as a Brit and admit my foreignness, and so Alice happily informed me about the current English political hullaballoo.  The conversation meandered to our respective moves between England and America, to college degrees, to West End theatre, to marriage advice.  She leaned in close to me as we spoke, as though this talk show were personal information meant for my ears alone; within seconds, I had been taken in as her confidant.  At first, I felt unnerved by her intimate body language and conversation; soon, I felt honored, and took her into my confidence in turn.
 
Our exchange was cut short when my bus arrived, and I haven’t seen my stranger Alice since.  But our random encounter brightened my day considerably, and thinking back on our conversation still makes me smile.  Traveling, after all, is largely about being open to new experiences, even those experiences which may not go any further than a single moment in time.

[[photo of the Knight Bus at the Harry Potter Studios, taken by me. And no, alas, I did not meet my stranger Alice at that particular bus stop.]]