Why Walking Is the Best Way to Experience a City

I love a good hop-on, hop-off bus as much as the next traveler. They can be a great way to get your bearings in a new city, especially if you’re short on time. But if you really want to understand a place—not just see it—I don’t think there’s a better way than putting on a comfortable pair of shoes and simply walking.

That wasn’t always my philosophy.

When I first started traveling, I thought efficiency was everything. I wanted to see every famous landmark, museum, church, and viewpoint before my flight home. My days were carefully planned, my routes optimized, and my feet usually begged for mercy by the end of the afternoon. I saw a lot, but if I’m being honest, many cities began to blend together. I could tell you I’d been there, but I couldn’t always tell you what the place actually felt like.

Somewhere along the way, I slowed down. I stopped worrying so much about checking attractions off a list and started paying more attention to what was happening between them. It turns out that’s where the real city lives.

When you’re walking, you notice things that disappear from the window of a taxi or tour bus. You catch the smell of fresh bread drifting out of a neighborhood bakery. You hear children playing in a park and musicians performing in a square you hadn’t planned to visit. You notice the flower boxes on apartment balconies, the tiny bookstore tucked into an alley, or the café that’s filled with locals instead of tourists. None of those things show up on a sightseeing itinerary, but they’re often what I remember most long after I’ve returned home.

Walking also has a funny way of making you curious. Instead of racing from one attraction to the next, you’re free to turn down a side street simply because it looks interesting. Sometimes you’ll find nothing more than a quiet residential block. Other times you’ll stumble upon a neighborhood market, a hidden courtyard, or the best meal of your trip. Those discoveries feel earned in a way that famous landmarks never quite do.

One of my favorite travel memories wasn’t standing in front of a world-famous monument. It was wandering through a residential neighborhood in Lisbon, watching laundry sway from balconies while elderly neighbors chatted across the street as if they’d been doing it for decades—which, of course, they had. Nothing about that afternoon would have made anyone’s “Top 10 Things to Do” list, yet it’s one of the first memories that comes to mind when I think about the city.

Walking also forces you to slow down, and I’ve come to believe that’s one of the greatest gifts travel has to offer. We spend so much of our daily lives rushing from one obligation to another that we often carry that same mindset on vacation. We hurry through museums, rush to make reservations, and worry about everything we still have left to see. Walking interrupts that rhythm. It reminds you that travel isn’t a competition. There’s no prize for seeing the most attractions in the shortest amount of time.

I’ve found that the cities I remember most vividly aren’t necessarily the ones with the biggest landmarks. They’re the ones where I spent enough time walking that I began recognizing the same café owner every morning or knew exactly which corner bakery sold my favorite pastry. Even if I’m only in a city for four days, there’s something comforting about developing tiny routines. It makes the destination feel less like a place I’m visiting and more like a place I’m briefly living.

Of course, walking isn’t always practical. Sometimes the weather doesn’t cooperate. Sometimes distances are simply too great. And after climbing hills in places like Lisbon or Edinburgh, I’m certainly not above hopping into an Uber. But even then, I try to save transportation for getting between neighborhoods rather than within them. Once I arrive somewhere, I want to experience it at street level.

I’ve also discovered that walking changes the conversations you have with people. You’re more likely to stop in a small shop and ask for directions, chat with a street vendor, or strike up a conversation with someone sitting next to you in a park. Those interactions are almost always brief, but they remind me that travel isn’t just about places. It’s about people.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become much less interested in returning home with hundreds of photographs proving where I went. I’d rather come home remembering how a city smelled after an afternoon rainstorm, the sound of church bells echoing through narrow streets, or the tiny family-run restaurant I never would have found if I’d been riding a bus instead of walking.

People often ask me for my best travel advice, expecting some secret about finding cheap flights or avoiding crowds. My answer is usually much simpler than they’re expecting.

Choose a hotel in a walkable neighborhood. Put on comfortable shoes. Leave part of the day unscheduled. Then start walking.

You probably won’t see everything.

But you’ll experience far more.