flâneuse in the city

18 Oct, 2026

On September 28, I came back from a trip to Vancouver, British Columbia.

I wanted to take this trip because I've been interested in Vancouver for a while, having seen its beauty on an online entrepreneur's YouTube channel I used to watch back when I watched YouTube. I ceased watching it nine months ago, an experience I would like to write about in a future blog post.

I also did it to prove to myself that I can travel solo in an international city.

Of course, it was an easier choice because Vancouver is a grid city like Salt Lake City and people speak English.

But it was a small test I could do, one that appeared feasible.

Day One.

It was the middle of the day when I left the arid, sun-glimmering mountains for the evergreens.

On the plane, I watched "Bonjour Tristesse," the 2025 adaptation of the Françoise Sagan book (which I read last year).

What a mood.

I felt transported to a languid vacation in the south of France.

Later, I found out that the director is Canadian.

Getting a fresh cup of coffee, not using Wi-Fi, reading the paperback version of Lauren Elkin's book "Flâneuse" as well as downloaded essays on Substack, I enjoyed the three-hour layover in the Seattle airport.

"Flâneuse" is an audiobook that I listened to at work while trimming cannabis flower, one of the books in my mobility learning project.

I wrote about this three-month learning project in a previous blog post.

I have since completed it (a post for another day).

The word 'flâneur' comes from the French verb 'flâner,' meaning to wander aimlessly.

Flâneuse is the feminine form of 'flâneur.'

This book is all about women meandering and taking up space that wasn't traditionally theirs (this choice of leisure was reserved for men at the time), while observing the comings and goings of a city on foot, savoring and strolling, much like what I was going to do.

Day Two.

After sleeping in at the hostel in the West End, I walked to the water at Second Beach, breathing in the fresh Pacific Northwest air.

Started studying everything around me: the rain-soaked logs, the cracked shells, excited about my upcoming days in a lush and eco-conscious coastal city.

The noise pollution wasn't so bad over here.

Walked all the way to English Bay Beach.

Next to a cluster of palms, I lingered at the statue called ‘the 'laughing men,' one of the touristy landmarks bordering a public space where one can hop on a rideshare bike, work out in the waterfront park, sit on one of the benches, or run on the seaside greenway.

Sauntered along Beach Ave and the west side of Denman St., damp cedar scenting the air.

I looked at stickers and flyers of the city on bike racks, utility boxes, and signposts, the city's unofficial bulletin board, trying to understand the vibe.

Was it a grunge scene or an underground communist scene?

Or a progressive, intersectional one?

Walked into Imagine Cannabis, looking at the rosin-infused bevs and CBD-dominant gummies while talking with the salesperson.

Said I'd be back.

Up Denman St., went into an Italian caffé and gelato shop called D'Oro Caffé and Gelato, glancing at a bike hanging as decor.

Ordered a flat white (my go-to right now) and a single scoop of pistachio gelato.

I set down Lauren Elkin's "Flâneuse," which I had been carrying this whole time, on the marble-topped bar.

On the stool with a big window, I took down my observations, practicing 'flâneurie.'

Georges Perec noted observations as well in order to get his readers to catch the 'infraordinary,' or what happens when nothing is really happening.

I also picked up on what women were wearing, what I could buy for travel attire, like wide-leg flowy culottes, balloon pants, and Blundstone boots.

I also took down what mistakes I was making travel-wise so that I wouldn't forget this trial-and-error data for the next trip.

Protected bike lanes along the water. A mesh bag would be useful for dirty laundry instead of using up empty space in my packing cube. Get a lot of cash at once to lessen the foreign transaction fee. I like the physicality of cash.

The Punkt blog has a great article about using cash when everyone is using card.

I then used cash and coins at all of the places that I went to that day.

The gelato at this old-world-feeling caffé was so good, the note-taking a beautiful break.

Walked over to the east side to yacht-dotted Coal Harbour, noticing that they have bike signal traffic lights for lanes that don't even have protected bike lanes.

People watched while eating my rice-paddy ramen at NomNom Seoul, a fast-service Korean joint on Robson St.

Opening up my “Pocket Vancouver” Lonely Planet guidebook, I decided to do the 'Walk Downtown' recommended path, off-course, meandering at many moments.

Walked into an underground marketplace/mall trying to find a public restroom, catching sight of a reusables return kiosk. No signup, just tap card.

Stepped into Trees Organic Coffee to take a break from walking and ordered a sweet, grassy matcha, forgetting that there are numerous benches outside.

Pacific Centre, surrounded by towering glass: I was in downtown for sure.

The noise of the electric trolleybuses running back and forth, their overhead wires.

Vancouver has one of the largest fleets of fully electric trolleybuses in North America.

Took out my Punkt to see how it feels to carry it in a city.

I wrote down the times that I chose my smartphone over my dumbphone, and the reason.

Mostly, it was for the GPS to tell me what bus to take.

It was useful seeing the closest stops to where I was heading.

But could I find that without consulting Apple Maps?

Perhaps there are paper timetables or paper maps of the transit stops that I could have purchased or printed out somewhere?

I prefer checking a hard-copy map to consulting a screen.

Not just for privacy reasons, but also because I like to figure out where I am in space.

It's the same with Lauren Elkin and flâneuses in general.

There's a real need to walk around, to comprehend where you are spatially, how places relate to each other.

It gives her, and us, a feeling of 'placeness.'

Geographer Yi-Fu Tuan talks about this in "Flâneuse."

Space becomes a place when, through movement, we invest it with meaning.

That is why I like finding out about a city through walking, how the streets connect and intersect, seeing the street names in real time while looking at the map, where I just came from.

I bought a reloadable card (called the Compass card) at one of the kiosks at the SkyTrain station.

It's an analog-friendly option, with Compass card vending machines at SkyTrain and SeaBus stations (the SkyTrain being both the overhead train and subway, the SeaBus being the ferry).

You also have the option of reloading it using cash or credit (although to check your balance outside of the station, you do need a browser, which doesn't help when you are carrying a dumbphone).

One Compass card works across the whole transit system.

Bus fare needs exact change, a Compass card, or a credit card, but rideshare and carshare are app-driven.

Tapped on, tapped off.

I guess I could also call or text the transit number to see when the bus would arrive or to figure out which bus to even take.

You can text your stop number to a number for the next bus arrival times, and at many streets and intersections, there are accessible maps telling you where you are (no transit map though, those are at the SkyTrain stations).

Day Three.

On my morning walk towards downtown, past the coastal ferns, I traversed across the Comox-Helmcken Greenway, where one can easily ride a bike from the north to the south of the city.

I also spotted a flyer for a pop art gallery attached to a utility box, one of the many neighborhood events.

First destination: Alberni St.

Apple Maps told me this breakfast bistro was open but it wasn't.

Instead of checking my phone every time I planned, I just chose whatever was closest.

And maybe I'll end up surprised!

The 'Nourish Bowl' was what I ate at Tractor, a healthy food eatery that I passed by yesterday.

I felt like a green juice but there wasn't any.

I also hadn't had coffee yet.

Leafed through “Pocket Vancouver.”

Flyers, not websites. Offline again.

Looked around.

Bahar Cafe.

I'd go there for my flat white since it was close and I didn't want to walk far.

Two women were having a convo at the low tables.

I looked over my old printed notes that I took from the book "The Renaissance Soul." It was one of the exercises from the book.

My life didn't pan out the way I saw it in my notes.

I did projects that I didn't actually foresee because of what happened back in January and February of this year.

After having a flat white at this Persian-owned cafe, I thought about how I never would have known about this place if I hadn't followed my interest in Tractor (which I saw yesterday) and hadn't therefore passed by it (or realized I was too tired to look anywhere else for coffee).

I got lost.

The Punkt blog has an excellent essay on getting lost.

I thought I was headed in the direction of Gastown but it was Yaletown.

Backtracked.

Finally, after arriving in Gastown on Water Street, I noticed the cracked, SoHo-like structures (SoHo saw the same industrial decline, with artists and boutique shops moving in after commercial buildings fell out of use): the brick and stone warehouses, once commercial buildings with big windows, now turned curated boutiques.

Cordova Street, which I had just passed through to get to the famous Water Street, had vintage shops, design studios, tiny roasteries.

There was slower car traffic, wooden benches, lampposts.

A damp coolness in the air.

I took out my analog camera.

A glazed-pink film camera, the Kodak Ektar H35N.

I found out about this camera after reading the pamphlet by August Lamm, "You Don't Need A Smartphone."

The SoHo-like buildings were too beautiful not to shoot. I floated in and out of some of the souvenir shops, not finding anything.

I looked at the screen, Apple Maps telling me which bus stop I needed to go to.

I could have perhaps just looked up and walked to a stop.

I plopped the coins into the ticket taker while everyone tapped their card.

I let my mind wander on the bus.

After arriving at the hostel around happy hour, I rested, then decided to go back out.

My plan was to go get dinner and a drink without a smartphone.

I had a paper map, the hostel phone number, and I wasn't going to wander too far.

I had a solo date at La Quebec Poutine, calamari poutine in front of me, Punkt to the side, writing my notes on top of old notes, notes that needed updating.

It's still strange to dine alone, but I’m good company.

I ventured to a public space dedicated to a local LGBTQ+ celebrity, one of the many public gathering green spaces.

The evening rainfall was so peaceful, the droplets, the wet cedar and fir, the glossy sidewalks.

Cannabis smoke drifted in the air.

Went into Imagine Cannabis again and bought that rosin-infused black tea bev I saw earlier.

Making my way into the West End once more, I popped into Noah's Cafe, a bar right next to the Italian caffe I went to yesterday.

I couldn't tell that it was actually a Japanese fusion bar; the windows and curtains were too dark.

I took my chances, thinking I might walk out and everyone would be looking at me, but went in anyway.

I liked the vibe and sat at the tiny bar with four stools.

It was just me and the bartender.

Ordered a grapefruit vodka, yuzu, and lemon cocktail, complete with an aromatic smoke bubble, with just my enjoyable company and not desiring to take a video.

It was just for my excitement.

At the bar stool, in order to not look lonely, I wrote a blog post draft in my tiny spiral notebook about my experience renting a car, which I wrote about here (link).

Day Four.

I didn't know yet what neighborhood to hit today, what coffee shop, what I would eat for breakfast.

Kitsilano, nicknamed the "Kits"! I decided.

I wanted to find the bus stop without consulting my iPhone.

Went down to the beach and near the bridge, thinking there would be a stop there because that was the direction I wanted to go.

I forgot that most stops are on the main road, not side streets.

And my hostel was near a main road.

Rode the bus across the bridge, noticing the protected greenway.

Even bikers can safely get across the water!

It dropped me off at West End Ave.

I didn't even know what coffee shop to go to.

Went forward, backtracked, forward again until I chose Lumine Coffee.

Frothy cappuccino and chocolate croissant.

Juice bars, outdoor gear shops, yoga studios, fitness clubs, bike shops... this was the health hub I didn't know existed.

Wet asphalt, laid-back beach vibe, the bike racks in front of cafes, the earthy smell of rain, a neighborhood feeling... this was what I was picking up.

But the fact that there was a magic mushroom dispensary was mind-blowing to me.

I just had to walk in, to browse, to tell the guy that we definitely don't have this in Utah.

Dry mushrooms, microdose capsules, gummies, chocolates, a ton of psilocybin products!

A book on psychedelic medicine, a daily dosing journal, and a brochure on psychedelic therapy rested on the shelf.

Made my way down to the water, past the seaside bike routes and connected parks.

It was downpouring at Kitsilano Beach, the ferns and windmill palms battered by the wind, with the smell of drenched grass and driftwood.

The bay was lost in mist, the mountains half-covered by cloud, the ships dissolving.

I wanted to go to the Arbutus Greenway, which I had read about while lightly planning for this trip.

Wicked Cafe, a neighborhood spot in Fairview, was nearby, moss and ivy hugging the walls.

Ordered a hot chocolate, talked to my friend on my dumbphone, wrote in my tiny notebook, looked at my old notes, realizing I'd been trying to market my IndieWeb-friendly blog all wrong!

I found a Lime scooter station.

At all the stations I've seen, there are maps telling you where you are, perfect for not needing to pull out your smartphone.

I rode the Lime scooter on the Arbutus Greenway, then went back to lock it up again at a different station shortly after.

I also took the bus through Fairview and Mount Pleasant, walking up Main St., which I'd read is a hipster and street mural mall.

With no freeways cutting through downtown, strolling felt easy.

I read that the city blocked a 1960s plan to run one through.

One of the other books that I read in my mobility learning project was "A Walking Life" by Antonia Malchik. In it, Malchik writes about how cars enclose people in their own mobile worlds, sheltered from weather and pollution.

Out on foot, I was in the middle of it: the rain, the wind, the frequent car exhaust. I didn't mind because it made me feel part of the street.

Day Five.

The bus dropped me off at Granville St. in downtown.

I needed to get onto the SeaBus if I was going to make it to North Vancouver.

From the other side, in "The Shipyards District," I snapped photos of the skyline with the Kodak.

"The Shipyards District" was a working harbor where they built hundreds of ships in the past. Since 2019, it has been redeveloped into a public space and waterfront walkway.

Brazilian was what I chose to eat at the Food Hall.

A pasteí and a Guaraná soda, which I was told is a fruit from the Amazonian rainforest.

Walked the Shipyards District, glanced at the plethora of benches and small green spaces in this city.

I saw the Evo bikeshare and car share, in addition to the "Modo We Share Cars" carshare system. Streets felt calmer with fewer private cars on them.

And I didn't have coffee yet.

I walked up an incline on Main St. to Buddafull, a juice bar, for a fresh-pressed green juice.

On the way, I saw a fun mural in a fun alley.

On the patio, I analyzed my old notes, feeling the breeze coming through the sun-dappled tree canopies.

I took a bus to Lynn Canyon and walked on the suspension bridge.

There were tall conifers, red cedars, Douglas firs, sword ferns, moss on trunks and stumps. Walking on the damp earth and soft dirt felt healing.

Day Six.

Bus stops are excellent for people watching.

I locked eyes with a guy across the street, in front of CottonMouth Cannabis, smoking a cigarette.

I thought it might be cannabis. Maybe it was.

He looked happy, then he walked away.

I was just going up the street.

Denman St.

Again.

I really liked this street.

I liked the West End and I liked the 'Kits.'

One of the things I was observing here was the mixed-use neighborhoods and the back lanes or alleys for deliveries and services, keeping driveways off the main streets.

I wanted Australian today but didn't know it.

I forgot "Peaked Pies" was on this street.

What a happy accident!

I bought the traditional Aussie pie, a meat pie.

Surprisingly, I did not have my coffee of choice there, even though it is an Australian specialty.

"A small flat white please," I told the barista at Milano Coffee Roasters.

I was pretending I was in Milan, but I was really in Australia. Technically, I was in Canada.

Surprisingly, it did not feel awkward to sit at the sun-warmed wooden table and look out at people through the giant window, the milk steamer screaming, the popping bubbles of the foamy flat white, machinery clanking.

Two guys were having a chat in French-accented English.

A woman was reading a Vancouverite newspaper.

I glanced at a 'cars ruin cities' sticker on one of the many waste bins.

I loved that.

And I loved the shop interactions. The salesperson at Imagine Cannabis. The guy at the mushroom dispensary.

I wish I had talked to more strangers. Most of the trip I was observing, notebook out, camera out. I also wish I'd had a flirty, playful interaction with someone, a little banter at a café counter or at the Japanese fusion bar where I had that cocktail.

Talking to strangers is scarier to me than traveling solo, yet I have a deep desire. Being present for a potential conversation.

That's part of why I want to look at my phone less: so I'm not distracted when a conversation could happen.

I rented a bike in order to bike the Seawall loop in Stanley Park.

I thought about what it would be like if I carried only my analog phone and camera.

Would I even miss taking videos?

I took them anyway, for people, even if it took me out of the present.

Stanley Park.

Biked the Seawall loop, walked to the water on the beach, strolled in the park woods brimming with hemlock (it did not feel like a city park), then sat on a bench, chronicling, reading.