City Slickers
Like every depressed millennial these days, I go on my stupid little walks. If the weather is nice, I’ll close my work laptop around five, mask up, and head down Franklin Avenue to start my walk. I walk a similar route most of the time. Down Franklin until I hit Eastern Parkway. West on Eastern Parkway until I hit the Museum. North on Washington. West on Fulton. A quick little loop around Ft Greene Park. East on DeKalb. Back to Fulton. And, eventually, back home. Sometimes, I’ll change things up. I’ll take a different street. West on Bergen. North on Vanderbilt. A few weeks ago I walked as far as I could until I hit water. Reaching Brooklyn Bridge Park and admiring the views of lower Manhattan.
The people I pass by seem to be on their stupid little walks as well. Listening to podcasts or audiobooks or a medley of Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, and Ariana Grande. Wait, no, that last part is me. People walk their dogs, walk with kids. The city is circumambulating. I love to peer into windows as I walk by. I imagine what kind of lives live in these homes, how much care and attention they’ve made to creating their little sanctuaries, and what memories must fill their walls. I imagine myself living in one of these apartments. How I’d spend my days. Where I’d arrange my furniture. How my daily commute would be done. I fall in love with strangers, in the briefest of glances, picturing the eternity of our lives together only to forget about them as I turn the corner and see someone new.
In Philadelphia, I walked a lot as well. First, when I lived in University City, I’d always trek across the bridge, over the Schuylkill River, into Center City rather than taking the subway or trolley. The bridge felt like a divide - one side university life the other city life. I walked up and down Spruce and Pine and Walnut and Chestnut more times than I can remember. I’ve lounged on the banks of the river and wandered up to the museum steps like Rocky. When I moved to Chinatown, the city felt even more accessible. Every weekend, stir crazy, I’d crisscross the grid of the city, going from coffee shop to bookstore to park, taking it all in. Discovering the breadth of murals and people that lined the city of brotherly love. At one point, I walked across the Benjamin Franklin Bridge into New Jersey. It felt almost illegal to be able to just walk into a new state. Its border completely arbitrary.
When visiting new cities, I prefer strolling around rather than planning out full days. There’s no better way to see and behold all that comes together to create these metropolises. My two feet have navigated the streets of Tokyo, Seoul, Sydney, Taipei, and more. I’ve discovered alleyways and cafes and have always managed to stumble upon all the famous architecture or sites guidebooks would tell me to visit anyway. Cities feel different from the street. They meander and wander and grow. What looks distant draws closer and closer as you put one foot in front of the other. The vastness of cities becomes effortlessly manageable as you conquer its tight corners and hills.
Walks allow me to both be a stranger in a crowd and interrogate my inner self. When I’m feeling the weight of my personal feelings, I’ll go for a walk. I’ll try to clear my head. The rhythm of the walk calms me down if I’m stressed. I’ll ruminate on thoughts, loop around exchanges and interactions I’ve had with others in my head to understand what went wrong or what could have gone better, as my feet move me around the circuit of my neighborhood. Walks make me feel like I’m accomplishing something, even when I may not be. I can finish the day knowing at least I went outside, felt the sunshine on my skin, the breeze, and saw a little bit of the world.
I don’t think I’ll ever live anywhere that isn’t a city. The movement of people feels as though everything is one big ecosystem, one large body working in tandem. I belong here. I can feel the vibration of the subway underneath the grates as it moves from stop to stop. Buses whirl by with thunderous energy. Planes fly overhead descending into LaGuardia or JFK. Sometimes even running into friends on the street. The pure luck and magnetism of the city that binds us all together. Everything is in a constant state of coming and going and being. How could you ever want to be anywhere else?