Getting Lost On A Walk
On Friday night I took a train from Fullerton to Chinatown. As I disembarked from the car, I noticed a man in a suit speaking an Asian language. Intrigued, I decided this would be the stranger I would follow on my walk. As he took the stairs down from the platform, I followed at a distance. He was still on the phone, speaking in an urgent manner. I wondered who he was talking to; I wondered if it was his wife, or maybe a business partner, colleague, or whatever. I was not sure. He waited for the lights to change before crossing onto Canal street, one of my favorite roads in Chicago. Canal is lined with Asian markets, grocers, restaurants, confectionery stores, and all sorts of interesting places to shop and dine. The people on Canal street are a strange mix of white tourists and Asian residents, with the sidewalks being relatively busy every time I have been. A beautiful oriental-style archway welcomes you to the neighborhood, and it is very clear that the neighborhood wears its Asian heritage on its sleeves. The stranger and I passed through the massive archway and made our way south on Canal. We walked straight for a good fifteen minutes or so, with the stranger frequently seeing what products certain stores displayed in their windows. Eventually, the man made a right onto 24th street, as did I. We had entered a more residential street, one lined with cars and trees on either side. It was quieter, and there were much fewer people out and about. There were kids playing in yards, families out for walks, and the normal activity you’d expect in a slightly more suburban part of a major city. The man was wrapping up his phone conversation at this point, and ended his call with whomever he was speaking to. He continued to walk straight down Twenty Fourth Street, almost until the end. He then entered a home nestled in between the Interstate, Zero Degree Karaoke Bar, and Connie’s Pizza. I enjoy paying attention to the local businesses in a neighborhood, as it can give some important insight into the demographics, history, and passions of the neighborhood. I wondered how long the Karaoke bar had been there, or who owned the Chinese grocery store. I wondered where the man was coming from, where he had taken the train from. Maybe he was coming home from work. Maybe he was on the phone with his boss to tell them that he would be late for work the following morning. I was not sure, but I sort of enjoyed letting my imagination get the best of me. It was interesting to follow the footsteps of someone — someone I have never met — and see life from their perspective. I was able to see his routine, the things that are normal to him.
The Question of the Day …
“What is the meaning of “losing oneself in the city?” Have you ever lost yourself in this sense? If so, describe your experience. What do you remember?”
Losing yourself in a city is a spiritual experience. It’s when you lose track of where exactly you are, where you are going, or why you are even walking. Losing oneself in a city is a special moment in which the walker and the city are aligned, and on the same wavelength. This happens to me a lot, and has my whole life. I enjoy walking, and find it easy to get lost in my thoughts and lost in my environment. When you are lost in a city, it is a meaningful experience. You gaze upon skyscrapers, rest your eyes on the flowers in the park, wonder about the people around you, and wonder about yourself — where you fit into the city. Losing yourself in a city is almost like seeing yourself from the third person, seeing yourself as a pedestrian.
