The joy of walking in the city
Holosiivskyi Park, Kyiv, August 2021
In previous posts I’ve expounded upon the benefits of having down time, your own ‘me time’ to contemplate life and perhaps even your entire existence and purpose. It really doesn’t matter what you do with it, but some of the most precious time we have is time to reflect and think.
Combine that with walking, another one of life’s underrated, unadulterated pleasures. It’s also unbelievably beneficial for the health of your mind: it’s one of the cheapest and most nourishing brain foods.
I haven’t been able to do any travelling this year but I’ve been able to find plenty of consolation in city walking.
As much as I yearn to walk through the countryside, maunder amongst meandering hills, up winding mountain paths, through thick, luscious forests, along riversides, there is still plenty of joy to be found walking in cities. Sure, the heat may be unbearable at times so you have to pick your days carefully, but there’s so much to discover even in your very own city, a place you may have lived in for much of your life, so many unexplored nooks and crannies just waiting to be revealed and laid bare.
Riga, 2007
“We should take wandering outdoor walks, so that the mind might be nourished and refreshed by the open air and deep breathing.” (Seneca, On Tranquility of Mind)
Okay, so by ‘open air’ I’m not sure Seneca meant city air, but he didn’t specifically say ‘clean’ air, either. The open air can be anywhere and everywhere. You can explore parks in the middle of cities – at times it can even feel like you’re hundreds of miles away from the urban jungle. Or you can explore the streets and backstreets and no matter how long you’ve spent in a place, there’s always something new to be discovered.
From time immemorial, all of the greatest minds – writers, philosophers, deep thinkers – have extolled the virtues of time to wander and wonder, in your mind and on your feet:
“It is only ideas gained from walking that have any worth.”
“All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.” (Nietzsche)
Is city walking always pleasurable? No, far from it: at times it can be stressful and frustrating and absurdly uncomfortable. It can lead to irritation and anger. City walking in the summer isn’t always a walk in the park, literally and/or metaphorically. It very much depends, as well, on your purpose. When I was living in Belfast, as a poor(ish) student, after a late night out in town I didn’t want to splurge on a taxi to get home, so I would walk from the city centre, a journey of close to an hour, if memory serves. The walk home was a time to get some air, exercise, perhaps burn off some of the booze I’d consumed in the hours before. Inevitably, thoughts wander.
Baking hot Bishkek, summer 2009
Bishkek, 2009: balmy summer evenings, after a late night out with friends and colleagues, walking home on the near deserted, wide Soviet-era boulevards was delightful.
Occasions like this are fine.
If you’re walking with no aim or purpose, or are not in any particular rush, it’s a joy.
I’ve long maintained that the best way to get to know a new city is to walk and walk and get lost.
But you can do the same with an old city, a city you think you know so well.
Not a nice city square in 45 degree heat: Nukus, Uzbekistan 2009
Night walking: something really special
“The road was so lonely in the night, that I fell asleep to the monotonous sound of my own feet, doing their regular four miles an hour. Mile after mile I walked, without the slightest sense of exertion, dozing heavily and dreaming constantly.” (Charles Dickens)
Lviv, January/February 2006: long walks home in the wee hours, in frigid temperatures and dense, crunchy snow, luminous, pale moonlight, fortified by the chill and strong spirits.
Budapest, September 2002: my first visit, and my first solo backpacking adventure. Lost at night, trying to find my apartment. The quiet, deserted back streets lit by a seemingly floating light hanging by a cable in the middle of the road, dangling above, casting a translucent, even ghoulish light on the residential buildings.
Nooks and crannies, Bucharest 2010
I especially cherish winter night walking. And when visiting a new city, there’s a magic to doing it winter. I arrived in Bishkek in late January. My first time visiting Kyiv (in 2006) was right after New Year’s Day, in the midst of one of the coldest winters in Europe for years, temperatures plunging to as low as -30C. It has long been my desire to first visit St Petersburg in winter, but since 2014 that dream has been laid to rest.
“When I am traveling in a carriage or walking after a good meal or during the night when I cannot sleep–it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly.” (Mozart)
But if you have no choice but to walk, it can be torture. Yet also a valuable life learning experience and a source of unforgettably vivid memories.
My first visit to Crimea, 2008: Making my way from Sevastopol to Balaclava. It was blisteringly hot. Armed only with vague directions and no map, and a heavy rucksack, I had no other option but to use a cramped minibus, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to get to the ‘bus station’ in Sevastopol to where the minibuses (marshrutkas) were located. Eventually, after huffing and puffing in the sweltering heat, I found it. But that was merely the beginning. Upon being let off somewhere in Balaclava, I then faced an arduous ordeal to find my hostel, which seemed to take hours. The entire time I was cursing my existence, berating myself for being such an idiot, my back and neck aching. Eventually, I found it. I showered, and then ventured into town and I swear, the beer I had looking out over the bay as the sun was setting, and the fried fish dinner was one of the tastiest, most rewarding of my life. I felt like I’d earned it.
Getting there was torture. But the result was somehow worth it.
Balaclava, Crimea 2008
But did I learn from this experience? I’m not sure, for a similar thing happened in August 2011, whilst travelling in Hungary. I arrived in Eger early evening, unsure of which bus to take to get to the centre, but this time not having booked a place to stay. So I wandered and wandered in the sticky heat, once again cursing myself for my stupidity and thinking back to Balaclava and asking myself ‘have I not learned from this experience?’
“There is something about walking which stimulates and enlivens my thoughts. When I stay in one place I can hardly think at all; my body has to be on the move to set my mind going.” (Jean-Jacques Rousseau)
‘Stimulates’ and ‘enlivens’ are two ways of putting it. Aggravates might be another. Either way, moving does ‘set [your] mind going’, whether in a positive or negative direction.
Eger, Hungary 2011
Parting thoughts on thinking
Days after my last post, I chanced upon this splendid passage in a book of life wisdom I’m currently dipping into. It fits both the theme of this post, but probably more the last one:
“It’s actually really important to have empty space. If you don’t have a day or two every week in your calendar where you’re not always in meetings, and you’re not always busy, then you’re not going to be able to think. You’re not going to be able to have good ideas for your business. You’re not going to be able to make good judgments. I also encourage taking at least one day a week (preferably two, because if you budget two, you’ll end up with one) where you just have time to think. It’s only after you’re bored you have the great ideas. It’s never going to be when you’re stressed, or busy, running around or rushed. Make the time.”
(The Almanack of Naval Ravikant: A Guide to Wealth and Happiness)
And what to do with the time? Up to you – but why not walk?
“I take time to go for long walks on the beach so that I can listen to what is going on inside my head.” (Albert Einstein)
The beach may be too far away, but you can still listen to the thoughts in your head while walking elsewhere.
Quiet reflection, Sarajevo 2011
Read more
A fascinating, more in-depth article on the link between Great Thinking and Obsessive Walking
From Charles Darwin to Toni Morrison, Jeremy DeSilva Looks at Our Need to Move
Comments
Post a Comment