Walking around in Regina, Saskatchewan

It’s a city that seems formed from the very dust of the prairies, save for a defiant double-upthrust of latticed glass at its heart.

Currently the 4th and 6th tallest buildings in Regina—they differ by two meters.

Earlier this month, I was in Regina for a conference. The 2026 Prairie Discrete Mathematics Workshop. It was lovely and I greatly enjoyed the experience, but it is not the subject of this post. What follows are simply some thoughts, feelings and observations provoked by my acquaintance with Regina, Saskatchewan.

Does that sound like your sort of thing sicko?

Regina’s first provocation for me: A moment of surprise after a few hours downtown. I was walking along Victoria park, sidling Scarth Street, when I noticed none of the cars parked to face the park had front number plates. Since I was in the shadow of government-y looking buildings, I figured these plate-less few were exempted from the rules, owing to some special status. Then I saw another in motion with the same uncovered lip, and another, and another. So much for my feeble rationalization. Every car in sight was bearing its naked bumper. What is this freak shit? Is this how they do it in Regina?

Yes, it’s exactly how they do it. In fact, most cars in Saskatchewan require only one license plate. The lesson I over-generalized from this: Absences disclose themselves slower and more subtle than presences. Had every car been equipped with a little flag that said “Hey, check this out!”, I imagine I would have noticed pretty quick.

As an aside, a Park called “Victoria Park” in a city called “Regina” (as in Queen) is a little too much, don’t you think? Old Vicky, defender of the faith, double dipping. Not to mention I’d flown in from Victoria, BC. Guys, can we name a few of these after someone else (and not her little consort—looking at you PA).

Brown against blue. Unmoving buildings in the land of living skies.

Come dusk, I was navigating to my lodgings. In the slow creep of evening something eerie occurred to me. I don’t know how things work here. I don’t mean the play-by-play of municipal management. I mean, if some weird stuff happens here every night, I wouldn’t know about it. If fransaskois vampires emerge from their sequester or roving gangs of roughriders fans hunt down lost looking mathematicians, I’d be the perfect little ignorant victim. This was shunted to the fore when I noticed some big machine stirring up dust a block away (a street sweeper? A vehicle for moving cones or road signs?). My first thought: The dust machines. This is why there is so much dust in Regina. Every night they bring out the dust machines to keep everything nice and dusty.

I looked it up later and apparently Regina is dusty because wind blows dust onto it. Do you believe that? I’ve seen the dust machines. This reminds me of a joke I saw while scrolling r/regina or something (don’t lie, you do this as well) before I went to bed: Why is Saskatchewan so windy? Because Alberta blows and Manitoba sucks.

I must confess, I did more than scroll reddit my first night in town. I also enjoyed a little light derealization. Traveling alone, I have noticed, places me in rare and uncomfortable mental states. For one, I feel a little closer to death; in the sense that the great denial of death we all relish, bolstered by routine and busyness, is briefly ruptured. Call me dramatic, but I also feel like taking off in a plane is a faint encounter with death. I can’t help but enumerate all my doings as I speed down the runway, every time thinking something like: Would it be ok if this thing exploded? Am I satisfied with my life? Of course it wouldn’t be and of course I am not. However, I notice I’m a little more ok with it each time. Fly frequently and be well-rehearsed for facing your death! Another thing: I find that I always feel better when they bring the food. God wouldn’t kill me before I finish this bread roll would he?

Back to the point. The travel-induced derealization probably has something to do with our identity being grounded (temporally) in our routines and (spatially) in our sense of place. Without these, perhaps we are given to the raw background unreality of it all. Maybe our “sense of reality” is just familiarity. The first night is always the worst. By the time I had spent three nights in Regina, I felt that I had began to impress myself upon it a little—rather than acting as a wind-sock to its will.

Regina is a real place located in Canada.

To be a little more concrete about this real place that actually exists, how about I give you some legit recommendations for your upcoming trip to Regina?

I recommend Abstractions Café and Kimchi Regina. Both have excellent food including great vegan options. Abstractions in particular has a lovely vibe and seems to be involved the community.

Check out the Royal Saskatchewan Museum (name due to Lizzy not Vicky). They have Scotty the T-rex. Also, I found the prose of the information panels lovely; each introduced me to new words or reacquainted me with some classics. Shall we run through a few?

Siblicide

Escarpment

Understory

HibernaculumWascana Lake is made for beautiful walks. It was dammed by some dudes long ago, and while traversing its boundary, I took a nice photo of the Saskatchewan Legislative Building over the water that reminded me of how unspecial I am (everyone takes the same picture).

As a final fact, Regina is apparently twinned with Bucharest, Romania. The synchronicity of this will become apparent when I post a review soon of a book I read a few months back. With my extremely on-the-rails recount now concluded, I’d like to finish by introducing you to an absolute banger.

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