Walking along a river

London, obviously, is a conglomerate of villages. When following the Thames path, one notices the changing tides.

Two weeks ago, just before the flooding in the UK began, I walked the Thames path, meandering through touristical areas, neighbourhoods in the process of refurbishment (to put it optimistically), little harbour inlets with sleek yachts where renovated warehouses betray a once bullicious trading area, skyscrapers built on former docks, the (probably) polluting factories of a syrup manyfacturer.

Changing tides in many senses, as industry and shipment of goods recede to the background, to make room for a more optimistic era-of-the-arts-and-global-villages. A former powerstation becomes a museum (Tate Modern) and a disregarded harbour turns into an international financial centre (Canary Wharf).

One cannot help but get infected by this optimism, and see in every rundown building an artgallery, a skyscraper, a visitor centre of some wonder of the industrial age that the Thames is ridden with.

While breathing the rainy air with a hint of thunder in the background, I realised I was walking along a famous curve of the river. Famous because of a satellite picture shown endlessly on TV: the credits of the TV-series 'Eastenders'. And suddenly, I understood why I didn't feel like a tourist. I somehow played a part in a broader picture, in the changing history of a neighbourhood, witnessing the tides of time myself, undulating to and fro.

Or something like that.

I took a tube from the O2 -formerly known as the Millenium Dome- and went for a cafe latte in an interchangeable convenience store. Nowadays, it's difficult to find a decent cup of tea in London.