I do not feel that I know a city simply because I have visited its most recognizable places.

I may know where a museum is, recognize a waterfront, and have photographs of several parks. But if I have only traveled between them by car, much of the city is still missing from my understanding.

I know the destinations. I do not yet know what lies between them.

For me, walking begins to fill that gap.

It gives the streets between places the same opportunity to become part of the experience as the places I originally came to see.

The City Between the Places I Visit

While studying landscape architecture in San Francisco, I spent a great deal of time exploring different neighborhoods and their open spaces. I was interested in the parks themselves, but also in why some felt closely tied to local life while others attracted visitors from much farther away.

Walking helped me place those differences within a larger setting.

Approaching a park through residential streets gives me a different introduction from reaching it through a busy shopping area. Before entering, I have already experienced something of the neighborhood around it.

The park is no longer separate from the walk.

I begin to understand where it sits within daily life, what surrounds it, and how its atmosphere compares with the streets I have just passed through.

This is also why I am interested in walking between neighborhoods, rather than only visiting each one separately.

The distance between them contains information too.

Distance Becomes Something I Feel

On a map, I can measure the distance between two places.

On foot, I find out what that distance asks of me.

A few blocks uphill can feel very different from the same distance on level ground. A nearby building can still feel far away if the route toward it is indirect.

Distance becomes a question of effort as well as length.

In Providence, walking along the river during graduate school revealed another difference. Sections of the riverwalk formed a continuous route, yet moving between them could feel disconnected. I wrote about that experience in my thesis.

Following the same river did not automatically give me a clear sense of how its different sections belonged together.

Walking made me experience the connection rather than simply accept that it existed.

I Am Not Only Looking at the Street

From a car, I can see a tree-lined street.

Walking along it, I find out whether the trees shade the sidewalk.

I can see a shop from across a road. On foot, I discover whether reaching it is straightforward or whether I need to walk away from it to find a crossing.

The city becomes something I have to navigate, not only something I look at.

This is not always a pleasant discovery. But it is useful.

My own choices begin to tell me something. I may prefer one side of the street, take a longer route, or decide not to continue.

I cannot assume that everyone would respond as I do. Still, those decisions help me understand the difference between a street that looks appealing and a street I actually enjoy using.

Ordinary Streets Become Part of the Visit

Walking also changes what I consider worth spending time on.

A street does not need a landmark to hold my interest. It may contain ordinary homes, small businesses, and a modest open space that would never have appeared on my list of destinations.

I can happily spend much of a day walking through a place that interests me. I do not need every part of that day to produce a photograph.

Sometimes I am simply becoming familiar with the surroundings: how close the buildings stand to the sidewalk, where activity gathers, or how a busy street gives way to somewhere quieter.

These stretches are not interruptions between the important parts of the visit. They are part of why I enjoy being there.

I am not becoming a local just by walking through. But I am giving more of the city a chance to shape my impression of it, rather than asking only its best-known places to do that.

A City Has to Make Walking Possible

My work in urban design and planning also makes it difficult to discuss walking only as a personal preference.

The conditions have to support it.

An attractive destination is not enough if the route toward it is uncomfortable. A path drawn between two places does not, by itself, tell me whether someone can comfortably use it.

In my current work in Abu Dhabi, I want to carry this perspective into urban design and planning: not only whether places are connected, but what making that journey would ask of someone.

I do not believe walking is the right choice for every person, every journey, or every time of day.

That does not make it less valuable as a way of understanding a city.

Sometimes the most revealing part of a walk is discovering where the city makes continuing difficult.

As a designer, I want walking to feel like an invitation, not a test of determination.

Why I Still Choose to Walk

I value maps, plans, and drawings. I work with them, and they help me understand relationships that I could never see from one street. Visual representation has long been part of how I develop and communicate design ideas.

Driving and public transportation also make it possible to understand more of a city’s extent.

Walking offers something different.

It keeps the distance between destinations inside the experience.

I cannot skip the approach, the crossing, or the stretch of street that connects one place to another. These become part of what I know about the city, alongside the park, museum, or waterfront I intended to visit.

That is why walking remains my preferred way to begin understanding somewhere.

I may visit fewer places in a day.

But I begin to understand how they belong to the same city.