Being a Flâneur
I understand that such no-gooders are called Flâneurs - an archetype born in 19th-century Paris as a metropolitan character or a “passionate spectator” who “enters into the crowd as though it were an immense reservoir of electrical energy.” The philosopher and essayist Walter Benjamin called the flâneur a pedestrian with “a detective’s nose.” Little wonder the flâneur has captured imaginations, including mine, across cities and centuries.
Thus, you see, why we like to vacation in walkable cities and our first hours there are spent wandering. Where and when we turn is a game of chance and choice, not dictated by any rule. I might follow the sound of church bells, or drift towards the sounds of kids playing at a park or follow the scent of hot bread in the air and wind up at a bakery. To walk a city led by our senses rather than by a predetermined itinerary is to awaken to the city and, possibly, to ourselves. This gives us an opportunity to expand our capacity for wonder, to discover and delight in the simple things that we might have missed had we been aiming to get somewhere.
One early evening, while walking back towards our hotel after dinner in Vietnam, as we cut through the traffic, we heard music. A few steps later, we found ourselves at the edge of a hushed crowd at an outdoor private party. Only a moment ago I was on the sidewalk. Suddenly, I was absorbed into the music. I don’t remember what I ate for dinner that night, but I still recall the happy feeling of unexpectedly stepping into that music atmosphere. By walking a city in this engaged yet relaxed fashion, we may also become more open to the unexpected, to the little surprises that sometimes turn out to be the best part of a day, or an entire vacation. One afternoon, as I was trying to find a particular store in a city, I note that the exercise became a chore but truthfully, the walk was intriguing as I discovered local foods like roasted water chestnuts. Such aimless strolling is conducive to savoring, to finding joy in the moment, a practice that some social scientists have found can be cultivated and may help lead to a more fulfilling life through serendipity – the fulfilling search for the delectable, delicious, almost gustatory delights of the moment, possibly suggesting that the gods are smiling benevolently.
Strolling is an undeniably engaging way to plumb a city’s past. Clues are everywhere. Sometimes, it’s simply a matter of going slowly enough to notice signs and historical markers. Other times, an object or architectural detail that tickles the interest — a gate, a scripture that provides a passage to another time capsule. Stories of vanished ages can be triggered by a single stone, then explored back home through books and visits to various websites. We felt this aspect truly absorbing at Edinburgh.
Although exhilarating, being in a new city among so many strangers can turn disturbing due to the anonymity of the crowd and the questions of distinct identity change fueling dark imaginings. But being incognito isn’t just a boon for criminals. Rather, it’s an underrated benefit especially in the age of social media. Alone in a crowd, one can take a break from the persona that friends and family expect one to be. Once can be oneself, or “off stage,” giving onself the room to go at one’s own pace, to let the eye and mind wander, to stumble upon new ideas, even self-realization.
In addition to nurturing the ability to savor, strolling can be a way to begin to understand the cities we visit. In Tokyo, this strolling was my introduction to the city’s penchant for exquisite manhole covers where each municipality is encouraged to show off its own unique manhole cover designs, inspired by the regional elements. Elements like these sparked what would eventually become an abiding affection for Japan. Wandering neighborhoods amid contemporary and modernist buildings, temples, shrines, markets, Metro stations and department store food halls with bento boxes and Matcha cakes plus chocolates almost too exquisite to devour, helped to slowly reveal the magnificence of the place.
Thus, was born our vacation methodology as a routine that follow smells and sounds. In Waterloo, Canada, one spring, I followed the sun. I had a bad cold but it was the sort of unseasonably warm afternoon that draws everyone, even an ailing tourist, to the banks of the lake. I stopped to rest as pauses like these are as much a necessary part of travel, as putting one foot in front of the other. It was an unremarkable scene and yet, as I kept looking, it assumed a significant spot in my mind. Most of us travel with must-see destinations in mind. But every now and then, on a stroll to nowhere, we get reminded that life doesn’t get much better than communing with nature.
Today, all kinds of people today, including those for whom walking isn’t easy or possible, may consider themselves flâneurs and flâneuses. What stays indelible is a certain romance, an air of freedom and a permanent desire to pursue a slower, looser way of experiencing a city - if only for one lazy afternoon. Eventually, the return is to the hotel bed to retire. But, strolling unfamiliar streets, trying new things, seeing something beautiful or tasting something superb is gratifying beyond words with an unsaid feeling of gratitude and rekindling of the joie de vivre.
