When I was in my early twenties, one breezy afternoon in Istanbul, I discovered a word that brightened my day but then darkened my mood almost simultaneously. I encountered that curious word between the pages of a book and admired it for some time without daring to approach it. This used to happen often to me back in those days. As I journeyed inside the immense landscape of literature, I would try to read everything from political philosophy to poetry to cookbooks with utmost reverence as if they were letters from God. Every now and then, I would come across strange creatures of words appearing suddenly in my path, like starfish brought in by the waves and washed up on the shore after some terrible storm. Were they dead or were they still alive? I would gingerly hold them in my palm and try to hear the beating of their hearts. Some of these forgotten words would come from Arabic or Persian or Armenian or Ladino or Kurdish or Greek…. But on that particular day, the word I stopped to admire was from French: “Flâneur.”
Absolutely exquisite. I could visualise you as a flàneur, up and about and around. I've read Rebecca Solnit's book and could understand the reference of the urban nomad. And as you were describing going around the city, morning to night, the first thought which came up in my mind was-how fortunate you are to be in this safe city and then you almost run into those two men you described. Perhaps there will be a day, when urban nomads and flàneurs shall be gender irrelevant.
Thank you for this. I had a similar reaction when I saw that word and when I read Benjamin. I became convinced that I would always be a flâneur, meticulously observing and endlessly roaming. That caused a significant caesura in my studies. I set out in my early twenties to spend my savings wandering the world, only to stop and wonder across Paris for a year instead. Of course, I am a white Western male ... ... I am encouraged to see Paris re-build itself for flâneurs, slow travelers by foot and bicycle.
This is the exact reason for my Substack. I float between Istanbul and Miami and write about those cities where I live, and others that I visit. The essence of a city is hard to grasp without strolling leisurely on foot.
I've always loved walking the streets of a new city -- or even a city I've been to before. Paris is one of my favourites for sure, as is London.
I wonder if it's travel that opens the mind or if you need an open mind to travel? I suspect probably more the latter. I know people who have travelled and haven't had fun and complained about a place, but really it was their closedness that cut them off from that fun. I don't entirely blame them -- you need a certain comfort level. Maybe that can be learned, but I think it's better if it comes naturally. I was lucky that my family travelled. We tried to bestow that on our kids too, and (terrifyingly... lol) they've begun to explore the world on their own.
Flâneur -- I like that term! Though it does have "dandy" baked right in, doesn't it? I feel most at home when I'm travelling. We almost made a life of that, but we thought the kids would be better off with a more stable life of friends and school. Pros and cons to both, for sure, but I wouldn't change how we did it. They are all independent, well-adjusted kids. What more can you ask for? And yeah, I think the places that we took them had a part in that.
Anyway, speaking of wandering -- quite the meandering comment. I won't get to walk any city streets today, so this will have to be my flâneuring for the day. Thanks for the enjoyable read!
Men can walk and observe invisibly. It is something I have always taken for granted. I suspect many of my gender do. But this is not the experience of women. This is something that I have taken too long to appreciate. Thank you for the reminder.
Reading your story felt like looking in a mirror, reflecting so much of my own experience as a teenager in an eastern polish city. My Polish teacher ignored the ministry's prescribed reading list and instead introduced us to Walter Benjamin's „Passages” and Baudelaire's „Le splin de Paris”. I devoured these prose poems in their original French, memorizing and reciting them like I was praying, as I wandered the streets filled with angry young men. At the time, I coined the term "flaneuse" for myself - not from any prior knowledge of the word, but by creatively adapting French grammar as I understood it.
Now there is a word I love. ‘Flaneur’. Discovered by me 30 years ago in a magazine promoting the delights of Robson Street in Vancouver, British Columbia. One of a pile of travel magazines brought into a jumble sale at our local community centre in Lenton, inner-city Nottingham, England, c.1990. It was described as a street for promenading and enjoying pavement cafes, where one could sit and watch the world pass by if you were ‘a flaneur’. Until then I had described myself as a ‘urban explorer’. That was when I became a flaneur and have been one ever since.🐰
Inspiring thoughts about the meaning of the word “flaneur”, and how it applies to women wandering in Istanbul and other cities with unique challenges and discoveries for walkers with a keen eye.
I just bought the book Crossings by Alex Landragin, it's about your Walter Benjamin and Charles Baudelaire, just started reading it, so can't say much yet. But thought you may find it interesting!
I love this so much -- though don't love what you had to experience -- and agree wholeheartedly. I wrote a book about walking a few years ago, inspired of course by what walking has given to me -- and by my own father's freedom/unfreedom growing up walking the canals of Leningrad in the Soviet Union -- but even more by starting with questions that books like Solnit's left me with: Who gets to walk, and where?
Garnette Cadogan's essay "Walking While Black" is one of the best pieces I've ever read on this subject. Walking is freedom of all kinds, while it is also one of the most visceral experiences of how a society limits freedom: https://lithub.com/walking-while-black/
During Covid, I would walk with my kids through the forest near our house in Maine—the same three miles every day for more than a year. Sometimes they’d be sad and mad, sometimes chatterboxes, sometimes I’d re-tell plots of movies from the 80s as though they were old folk tales. I’m curious what impressions those wanders will reveal to have left in all of us over the coming years.
I love your writings and story telling
Absolutely exquisite. I could visualise you as a flàneur, up and about and around. I've read Rebecca Solnit's book and could understand the reference of the urban nomad. And as you were describing going around the city, morning to night, the first thought which came up in my mind was-how fortunate you are to be in this safe city and then you almost run into those two men you described. Perhaps there will be a day, when urban nomads and flàneurs shall be gender irrelevant.
Thank you for this. I had a similar reaction when I saw that word and when I read Benjamin. I became convinced that I would always be a flâneur, meticulously observing and endlessly roaming. That caused a significant caesura in my studies. I set out in my early twenties to spend my savings wandering the world, only to stop and wonder across Paris for a year instead. Of course, I am a white Western male ... ... I am encouraged to see Paris re-build itself for flâneurs, slow travelers by foot and bicycle.
This is the exact reason for my Substack. I float between Istanbul and Miami and write about those cities where I live, and others that I visit. The essence of a city is hard to grasp without strolling leisurely on foot.
I've always loved walking the streets of a new city -- or even a city I've been to before. Paris is one of my favourites for sure, as is London.
I wonder if it's travel that opens the mind or if you need an open mind to travel? I suspect probably more the latter. I know people who have travelled and haven't had fun and complained about a place, but really it was their closedness that cut them off from that fun. I don't entirely blame them -- you need a certain comfort level. Maybe that can be learned, but I think it's better if it comes naturally. I was lucky that my family travelled. We tried to bestow that on our kids too, and (terrifyingly... lol) they've begun to explore the world on their own.
Flâneur -- I like that term! Though it does have "dandy" baked right in, doesn't it? I feel most at home when I'm travelling. We almost made a life of that, but we thought the kids would be better off with a more stable life of friends and school. Pros and cons to both, for sure, but I wouldn't change how we did it. They are all independent, well-adjusted kids. What more can you ask for? And yeah, I think the places that we took them had a part in that.
Anyway, speaking of wandering -- quite the meandering comment. I won't get to walk any city streets today, so this will have to be my flâneuring for the day. Thanks for the enjoyable read!
Men can walk and observe invisibly. It is something I have always taken for granted. I suspect many of my gender do. But this is not the experience of women. This is something that I have taken too long to appreciate. Thank you for the reminder.
Reading your story felt like looking in a mirror, reflecting so much of my own experience as a teenager in an eastern polish city. My Polish teacher ignored the ministry's prescribed reading list and instead introduced us to Walter Benjamin's „Passages” and Baudelaire's „Le splin de Paris”. I devoured these prose poems in their original French, memorizing and reciting them like I was praying, as I wandered the streets filled with angry young men. At the time, I coined the term "flaneuse" for myself - not from any prior knowledge of the word, but by creatively adapting French grammar as I understood it.
Now there is a word I love. ‘Flaneur’. Discovered by me 30 years ago in a magazine promoting the delights of Robson Street in Vancouver, British Columbia. One of a pile of travel magazines brought into a jumble sale at our local community centre in Lenton, inner-city Nottingham, England, c.1990. It was described as a street for promenading and enjoying pavement cafes, where one could sit and watch the world pass by if you were ‘a flaneur’. Until then I had described myself as a ‘urban explorer’. That was when I became a flaneur and have been one ever since.🐰
Inspiring thoughts about the meaning of the word “flaneur”, and how it applies to women wandering in Istanbul and other cities with unique challenges and discoveries for walkers with a keen eye.
I just bought the book Crossings by Alex Landragin, it's about your Walter Benjamin and Charles Baudelaire, just started reading it, so can't say much yet. But thought you may find it interesting!
I started writing your favorite authors...
Ah. To be a flaneur in an north african country...
I love this so much -- though don't love what you had to experience -- and agree wholeheartedly. I wrote a book about walking a few years ago, inspired of course by what walking has given to me -- and by my own father's freedom/unfreedom growing up walking the canals of Leningrad in the Soviet Union -- but even more by starting with questions that books like Solnit's left me with: Who gets to walk, and where?
Garnette Cadogan's essay "Walking While Black" is one of the best pieces I've ever read on this subject. Walking is freedom of all kinds, while it is also one of the most visceral experiences of how a society limits freedom: https://lithub.com/walking-while-black/
"Flaneuse" - my new favorite word and a valuable purpose as well:) Thank you, Elif! And I've also discovered this book that I intend to read about this: https://www.amazon.com/Fl%C3%A2neuse-Women-Paris-Venice-London/dp/0374156042
I love you elif shafak
During Covid, I would walk with my kids through the forest near our house in Maine—the same three miles every day for more than a year. Sometimes they’d be sad and mad, sometimes chatterboxes, sometimes I’d re-tell plots of movies from the 80s as though they were old folk tales. I’m curious what impressions those wanders will reveal to have left in all of us over the coming years.
Wonderful 🙌❤️