I have just learned a new word. Flâneur: one who walks the city in order to experience it. I identified right away.
The first thing I do in any new city is to take to the streets. Not in search of anything in particular. But to take the pulse of the place. Paris to me is an old woman feeding pigeons from her mouth at her apartment window. London is the busy Borough Market with 21 kinds of baklava. Dubrovnik is made of marble and glows translucent in an early evening rain. Instanbul is drinks on a floating nightclub watching the ships come down the Bosphorus. Barcelona is a procession of singing nuns outside a medieval cathedral on an Easter Sunday.
To a flâneur, the streets of a city are not just a way to get from here to there, but a place to encounter life in all its complexity, a place to be surprised, confronted, shocked, appalled or delighted. My home city of Hamilton is full of these contradictions, and you can wander from heaven to hell and back again in a dozen city blocks.
I was introduced to “flâneur” by Ian Leslie in his article on serendipity in the Economist magazine, which I read on the plane last week coming home from Istanbul. He was saying how the city is superior to the internet as a place of serendipitous encounter. I don’t know about that. I expect it is the flâneur spirit and intention that makes the difference, wherever you choose to explore.
Leslie recounts the 1952 study by a French sociologist who asked a student to keep a journal of daily movements. When he mapped her paths onto a map of Paris he saw that they formed a triangle, defined by the points of her apartment, her university and the home of her piano teacher. Her movements, he said, illustrated “the narrowness of the real Paris in which each individual lives.” It doesn’t have to be that way.
Four years ago when I decided to rent out my house and go “walkabout” in Europe for a while, I remember that it was the flâneur spirit that called me out. And the desire to walk the streets of the world just to experience them is what drives me still, whether to the narrow lanes of Istanbul, or just around the block.
Three morals in this story:
1. Many of us limit our steps to a few familiar pathways.
2. But there is a whole world just waiting to be explored.
3. Serendipity is what you run into on the side street that you wandered into just to see where it might lead.
Yours with creativity and imagination,
Darlene