Walking Through Towns: I Did Too Much Walking in Italy

By Isaac Mei • May 31 2025 • 5 min read

Moving through any town can be a big challenge, especially in a place unfamiliar to oneself. Every city has its unique aspects to be learned and observed. With the privilege of being able to move through the medieval towns of Bassano del Grappa and Venice, as well as the postmodern urban center of Milan's Garibaldi District, I have come to realize one key idea of movement: space shapes the nature of movement and reveals the roots of towns and cities across the world. In Medieval towns, layouts are structured to create relational and embodied movement, while postmodern cities are structured so the movement is detached, transactional, and fluid. These differences are highlighted through the details that may not be heavily noticeable if one is in a rush, but spending time in these towns has allowed me to gather some key observations that will be discussed.

What stood out the most about the Medieval movement was the slowed, memory-based strategy of moving around the towns. In Bassano, narrow, irregular paths bring you to the main piazza, where churches, cafes, and pharmacies line the edges, inviting you in to enjoy your time. My group of five was enticed to sit out in front of a cafe, observe, and take our time savoring the beauty of the piazza. When you walk, you are brought to these social nodes, especially in Bassano, where the valley guides you gently down to the river that breaks through the middle of the town. The bright red Ponte Vecchio Bridge can also be seen from the tops of the hills around and seems to draw one in. As Michel de Certeau puts it, "To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper" (103). Walking through a medieval town, one constantly interprets meaning in the paths that can be drawn. You are invited to engage in a sensory way, observing through the inconsistent textures of the streets as they flow downhill, the colorful contrasts of buildings that don't allow you to forget, and the disharmony of the shadows that all together create a map of memory and sensation. This map is different from the standard Google Maps that one uses; instead, it is a map that embodies all of your feelings to understand with the soul. We can see this in medieval maps, too - rather than creating a bird's eye view of a city, buildings are represented by what they look like and how they feel, and by looking, one's soul can recognize their place in the town.

From left to right: Delilah, Natalia, Sophia, Isaac, and Adam at the Ponte Vecchio Bridge

This is elaborated even more in Venice, where your senses aren't distracted by the thought of cars - in fact, the only actual obstruction is the flurries of tourists bustling their way down the beaten path. But going off the beaten path by just a few turns makes even Google Maps a little confused in the Labyrinth of this medieval city as it asks you to walk straight over canals, through buildings, or plainly not know how to help you. Navigation, therefore, is forced to become a sensory and lived act - where a recognizable Gelateria, Tabacchi, or Osteria is the most helpful way to get around. The bird's eye view gives little value; orientation is grounded in what one can see, feel, and hear internally. You are fully embodied in the city. In both Bassano and Venice, movement isn't just a means to an end; instead, it is an essential part of each city's experience.

The maze of buildings seen from the Venice clock tower.

We contrast these ideas to Milan's Garibaldi District - a piazza intentionally built as a new and postmodern area that involves you completely differently. The structure is designed and constructed for flow, with escalators, elevators, and round plazas directing you around, swallowing you in the illusion of utopia that combines the outdoor and the indoor. You must submit to the structure given to you. In Piazza Gae Aulenti, massive towers with sleek curves and tall spires prove the domination of the corporations whose logos are on the buildings. Glass towers, clear water, artificial grass, open roofs, and vertical green buildings create a placeless place - with no friction or resistance or rootedness - the piazza is a site, not a place. Though not in a grid, even paths do not lead anywhere in particular. It becomes what Jean Baudrillard describes as a "perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-circuits all its vicissitudes," creating a refined simulation of public space - what Baudrillard describes as a hyperreal copy that replaces reality with signs - and stripping it of its authentic relationships and historical depth (2). The city connects users to a web, where there is no connection with the soul; instead, it becomes an interface to transit through rather than dwell in. In Venice and Bassano, one is invited to create a relationship with the space and embody oneself as they find their way to the center. In Milan, movement is made seamless but fully anonymous.

Bosco Verticale in the Garibaldi District in Milan.

The difference isn't just stylistic. It reflects a shift in what it means to move and what it means to be human. In medieval towns, movement is intimate, moral, and relational. You move with the city, experiencing its history, texture, and scale. In postmodern Milan, you move through space in a transactional way. Architecture doesn't ask you to look, touch, or dwell - it asks you to pass through, consume, and exit. In one space, space shapes the meaning of self; in the other, the self is reduced to a space utilizer. To understand how we move through a city or a district of a city is to know how we as humans live and what kind of world we are building towards.