`Walking is how I?ve come to understand not only cities, but my place within them`
After living in Portland, Oregon, for two years, I decided to break my habit of shuffling through cities and rooted myself here with a mortgage instead. I moved away from a very walkable part of town to a more affordable neighborhood dominated by cars and buses.

For many, home ownership is the next step forward into official adulthood. That was never the case for me. I?m restless by nature, and owning a home always sounded claustrophobic. The same walls" Year after year" But I did it because I?m 30 and single and seemed to be in a state of perpetual packing and moving; buying a home was one way to lay claim to adulthood. Also, I really wanted a garden.
Turns out, walking past other people?s gardens is really more my thing. My neighbors spend hours in their yards, clipping unruly branches, watering flowers, and staking claim to the earth. My yard is a tangle of dead grass and bushes I can?t identify. I regularly flee the house to drive or bike to neighborhoods where I can plant my feet on dependable concrete or grass that someone else maintains.
It bothers me that I?ve grown more isolated since purchasing a house. I miss strangers and strange smells and the sound of traffic. Most of all, I miss walking.

On my third visit to Bogotá, Colombia?during a five-month stay in South America?I used that familiarity as an excuse to foolishly walk back to my hostel with a bag contai...