#urbanwalking

[seattleru]

Seattle’s 24-mile “Super Saunter” turned a daylong walk into a moving tour of transit, neighborhoods and community spirit 🚶‍♀️🚆 From Green Lake to Columbia City, 1,500+ people saw the city in a whole new way. Dive into the route & stories: https://hyperlocalnews.website/seaen/24-mile-walk-through-seattle-unites-thousands-of.html

[clubrelax]

Speciale Toscana Inedita dal 22 al 25 aprile da 440€ in HB. In occasione di #openweek ClubRelax organizza 4 giorni di #escursioni, #urbanwalking, degustazioni tra #Pistoia e a #lucca scoprendo la Valdinievole, terra di #geni, #compositori, #rinascimento #illuminati e #biopark. Ultimi posti!! Chiusura iscrizioni mercoledì ore 12.00. #toscana #iviaggidiclubrelax #undertourism #vip #storia #archeologia #cibo #vino #single #vacanza #outdoor #natura #coppia #arte #fotografia #divertimento (presso Tuscany) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ccf45YgMT17/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[readandtread]

City Walking

Appropriately, I walked through downtown to get to the only nearby open branch of the local library system to pick up this volume. 

COVID-19 has them limiting which library branches are open, as well as the hours, and I’m grateful for both the access I do have now, compared to earlier months when all library branches were closed, and for the opportunity to get a real walk in as a result of the distance from home base to downtown branch.

I’ve been slacking off the last couple weeks. On everything, but particularly walking. Call it end of summer langour. A general malaise of laziness combined with carbohydrate overindulgence. A walk and a big salad made today so much better, no matter how much I tell myself lying around eating all the snacks and binge watching television shows is a good time.

Flaneuse, a chapter in, is a read unlike any other book on walking I’ve previously investigated, primarily because of its citified feminist focus. I’ve read books that covered urban walking as one of several types of walking; I’m not sure I’ve read any that spoke not just with a female voice, but actually focused on that fact of femininity. 

I’ve shared the most likely universal experience of being a woman reluctant to walk alone at night in a city, and the reflective anger at that reality and the reasons for it. I’m lucky to be able to say I’ve never suffered gender-specific or any other kind of violence when walking alone, but I hate that I must exercise caution as a matter of course.

I grew up in the country, what might quaintly be termed the middle of nowhere. Where getting anywhere in decent time meant a truck, or a school bus. There was no transit system. No city bus or train system, not even a taxi service that didn’t try and fail and fold into non-existence every few years

Walking home from elementary school would have been too long a walk for a child between six and thirteen years of age, and the road there was not pedestrian friendly. No sidewalks, and frequented by semis with huge loads of freshly logged forest.

High school in the nearest actual ‘town’ didn’t differ much, as it was simultaneously not much of a town to walk around, and too sprawling to get anywhere interesting even when you were old enough to go off campus during lunch hour. The main highway for the region split the town in two, and everybody drove from business/strip mall to business/strip mall.

To top it off, between local wildlife encroachment and a good dose of inclement weather, physical education classes didn’t happen much beyond the school sports field. There was a cross-country ski venture perhaps once a year, and no hikes that I ever heard of. 

Walking, whether with my mother to solve the day’s problems, down a gravel road which saw light farm vehicle traffic and the occasional cattle drive, or with the dogs, in the back or front field or back forest of the 17 acres I grew up on, as the dogs could not be trusted, even leashed, on the road, was an experience separate from any formal idea of a city, or even a road system with sidewalks.

When I went to university, first on Vancouver Island, and then in Alberta, I insulated myself in campus life. I lived and worked on campus every year. 

Four different dormitories and two different jobs on campus in undergrad.

The same grad housing and student library assistant position for two years in grad school. 

UVic connecting to Victoria, when I ventured out, mostly to rent movies from Blockbuster ( I am.so.old), or the rare clubbing night, was via the bus system my student fees generously covered a pass for.

The light rail transit system connecting U of A in Edmonton to downtown, and other points I don’t ever remember visiting, actually had a station directly beneath my grad housing. I didn’t actually have to go outside to connect to a transit point. Those of you who have experienced an Albertan winter will appreciate that statement. Growing up with snow didn’t make me any fonder of the idea of commuting in it. Especially the harsh, cold wind plus icy patches deep winter kind of snow, not the charming sprinkling visiting Victoria every other Christmas kind of snow.

Still, in the warmer months, I guess Edmonton was the first city I started to walk in.

I found I could walk from campus to the nearest independent video store, a shy branch out from my Blockbuster days more a matter of convenience than taste in a few blocks, and I could walk a little further to the local grocery store, and to Whyte Ave, where the nearest dance clubs were, where the nearest nifty shops were, where I saw my first art walk, where I got my first tattoo. I’ve a suspicion the nature of that avenue was strongly influenced by the je ne sais quois that is proximity to a college campus, and I’ll always be grateful to it. But it was the legislature grounds, also not that far away via LRT or bridge, that stand as the most memorable walk. Despite my current place of employment, I’m not particularly gung ho about governmental institutions, but as in many parts of the world, a building housing functions of government is going to be an impressive edifice, and if at all possible, the grounds surrounding it will have wow factor as well.

There were torch lights and fountains, sculptures and ornamental gardens, and when the huge questions about the future loomed up out of the night to instill insomnia, or when I’d just had too much ‘it will help me write this essay’ chocolate to sleep,  I found myself walking to and around the legislature grounds, no matter the time, and talking to the fountains. 

Nothing about this was particularly wise, or perhaps even sane. On one drenchingly wet night, on my way back to my grad housing, a police car actually slowed to ensure I was alright. I’ve often wondered at the picture I made. In yet another fashion phase, I was chafingly wet in baggy second hand overalls, faux combat boots, leather jacket. I was two blocks from home, so I smiled and waved them off. 

Occasionally in the years after that night I’ve wondered about it. What happened to the woman who walked the same street when no police car was near? What might have happened to me on some other dark rainy night when I was foolish enough to step out, with no umbrella and not much regard for my personal safety? 

I think those walks were as close to self-destructively reckless as I’ve ever come. I wasn’t having a good time in grad school, and I think if there had been a support network that wasn’t in another province around to notice, those years might have looked different. The flip side being, I could have reached out, could have bailed out; I chose to stay and stay isolated. 

Perhaps the notion of women walking in cities as an issue has always chafed because I am so good at self isolating. Walking in a group, or with a partner, lends a sense of safety, of immunity from care. But it was never an option I really considered.

With very few exceptions, I prefer walking alone. I would love if my mother lived closer, and we could share the occasional walk, though the days where we walk at the same pace have passed. We are both slowing down, but she is over 60 and cannot manage the mileage I am so happy to see myself achieving these days. 

I mourn that the nature of generations is such that we cannot both be 30 somethings in the big city at the same time.  

It’s practically a trademark that I am a fast walker, I find it frustrating to try and adjust pace to any past friend or co-worker who’s joined me on a shopping trip or lunch time walk.

And as I am for the most part, a solitary being, the idea of having a partner for a weekend walk grates like sandpaper. I find solace in my own thoughts and being able to decide a course for a leisure walk. Managing that with another person around would be...more proof of why I remain single.

My personality has designated me a solo walker, it follows that my gender then seems to have designated for me where and when it is safe to walk in the city.

In the country, the dangers are democratic. While an experienced woodsman with certain tools would be better off than a city tourist on a day trip, encountering a bear or cougar or getting lost on a back trail is not a gender-specific hazard.

I suppose I should count myself a certain kind of lucky that I’m aware of the blessings inherent in city walking. That having grown up in a different type of environment, I can rejoice in the safety in numbers that walking in a man-made landscape imbues. The people don’t have to be next to me on the street for their stamp on the world to have redrawn the borders. It’s the campfire at night; certain predators are automatically kept at bay. Others are not.

When I had rare nights of partying late in the city in my early college years, they were accompanied by young women I had classes with or shared dorm floors with, and they were delineated by the transit schedule. We weren’t out on city streets until ridiculous hours of deserted early morning because the Victoria bus schedule didn’t run past 1 am. So it was with late shows at theatres, or visiting any off campus events. And perhaps it can have some merit in retrospect that I was almost never in practical footwear in those years. Walking back to campus was in impossibility not just because downtown or most other neighbourhoods to the university was a long walk, but in three to four inch stillettos it was just a given that you’d have cab fare as a back up to missing the last bus. 

It’s heart breaking to think that another young woman in more sensible shoes on a tighter budget would automatically be in danger for choosing to make that walk at a certain time of night.

Typing away at a borderline unreasonable hour, even for a Saturday night, enjoying the ability to have a window open thanks to the temperate nature of late summer on an island influenced by ocean breezes, it’s hard to think of the somewhat suburban silent darkness outside my window as a menace. But if I think hard, I can remember shivering in impractical outfits, alone at a bus stop nearing midnight, wishing for a warm bed, and a locked door.

I hate that this is a reality, but I think I need to acknowledge that any brighter talk or lighter take on the history of women walking in cities would bring up this resentment that boils at the edges of my mind. 

Walking the line between empowered and forewarned is frustrating, but if I’m to take in the feminist push of the first chapter of Flaneuse, as it states clearly that as in many parts of history, just because the men of the time didn’t write about it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, and its encouraging idea of women walking the streets of big cities for decades, nearly a century ago, I need to work through the obstacle that jumps out at me every time a hopeful envisioning of this reality approaches. 

Yes, women did and do walk in cities. Ill does not befall them at each turn. Yes, it is something we work to change that women should not fear harm when walking in cities, or walking anywhere alone. Yes, I wish to learn more about sisters of the past, of women walking in cities. 

Because, I didn’t realise I still had this fear, one that rarely has a chance to visit, as I’m more of a morning/afternoon/hike out to the woods walker, and because I don’t want it to be the first thing I think of when I consider the history and current experience of women as walkers in urban areas.

Another point in Flaneuse’s favour is that COVID-19 has put something of a crimp in long out-of-city hikes for me for the foreseeable future. Unsure of the sterile conditions of park/trail washrooms basically limits me to walks that I can do and get back to my own bathroom in decent time. 

City walks don’t eliminate this issue. Figuring out what businesses are currently open and do have washrooms open to the public is a bit of a minefield, but city walks spiralling out from my apartment mean I’m not likely to be in the middle of nowhere when nature calls.

As with so many others right now, even regardless of how much of a homebody I am normally, I’ve experienced my share of a lack of enthusiasm for the daily grind as my options for outings have been limited. It gets tricky making the same few places I walk to to carry out necessary errands into an interesting journey.

New places must be sought out. But for my homesick-for-the-sprawling-valley-of-my-childhood-self, it’s getting close to nature that I regularly crave. And living so close to a large city (and I know, even comparing Victoria to Edmonton, Victoria is clearly not a very big city, despite it’s ongoing melding with the municipalities in close proximity into Greater Victoria), means having to go a distance to get a real chunk of nature like a regional or provincial park.

I can do that every other weekend or so without exhausting myself, but so much of the journey in these times makes me nervous. Increased risk of exposure, public transit, reduced bus schedules stranding me further out, the possibility of reduced cell service and what that might mean for gaining directions or assistance in a remote area if the trails aren’t as populated or maintained as they might be in other circumstances, even if the parks are open, the aforementioned bathroom issue. It doesn’t speak well to a enjoyable, invigorating nature walk.

So why did it take so long to consider that I should be (masked-up where necessary) appreciating my local area in more detail, and finding adventures and discoveries here? Whether it’s my local municipality or the sprawling city next door? Leave it to internet research and library books to do what they’ve done for me countless times over the years: get me to consider and learn about something I’d never thought of in that certain light. [I’m not terribly observant of the outside world (I like to think it’s inner contemplation working overtime not leaving me the processing power), so training myself to be so, in any circumstance, is a delightfully distracting mental exercise.] 

To inspire and reinvigorate. Here’s to Laureen Elkin’s greatly needed fresh take. I look forward to further reading. When it’s not past my bed time.

One further female of note for this evening: Melissa Harrison has a podcast called The Stubborn Light of Things. It allows you to go with her on her nature walks. I had a few episodes playing while I navigated interurban crowds on my walk today. I think it helped. So if anyone is in a situation like mine where they’d like to be in nature a bit more often then they get the chance to, give her podcast a try. https://melissaharrison.co.uk/podcast/

[philipst]

Some very tropical-looking trees grow in Britain, and examples seen here in West London along Ladbroke Grove and the #GrandUnionCanal, which has “residential moorings,” as they’re dubbed. 🌴 The last pic I’m sharing looks like an over-sized NYC-style cedar wood water tower that someone’s turned in to housing (note the windows and exterior ladder). #London #vernaculararchitecture #urbanwalking #gulfstream #houseboatliving https://www.instagram.com/p/BvgdaDFHfUC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=u04eymkl11f3

[randomwalksoul]

Le cose belle che si scoprono uscendo di casa in una mattinata nuvolosa di novembre. #redroses🌹 #urbanwalking #morning #cloudyday #november #green #flower https://www.instagram.com/p/BqWzxbKHlop/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=idh86vyagk0q

[ravitastic]

Day of fun!!! #funemployment #princessravi #princessravitastic #jewels #piecing #walking #urbanwalking #shopping #donttellthebf (at Notting Hill)

[veronicanavarra]

[veronicanavarra]