Walk 1: Mapping Senses

Being Home

    For my walk, I wanted to find a space that holds sentimental value to hopefully use my senses to evoke memories and sensory experiences. With this in mind, I decided to take a short stroll around my parents' neighborhood. I don't live here anymore, but occasionally I come over for dinner to both catch up with my parents and see my dog (he's too big for my apartment). 

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Map of my route.

Walk One: Hearing

    Typically when I walk through my parents' neighborhood, I usually listen to audiobooks or music since it's relatively safe to do so. This made it a little difficult to do this sense, as that's what my mind kept drifting to. It took a lot of effort in the beginning to really suppress that urge to open my phone. 

    As I walked throughout my neighborhood, I focused on what I was hearing and how it made me feel. Every time I heard something, I visually tried to find the culprit and snap a photo. Funny enough, due to that desire to listen to something while on my walk, inspiration struck me. Since photography isn't my strongest suit, I decided to take a more creative approach to document the visual part of the hearing portion. After I took the picture of the bird sitting on the street sign, I realized how cool it would look as an album cover. That guided the rest of my photo-taking for this hearing portion. While hearing the sounds, I would try to mentally craft an album cover that would visually capture that sound to then create later. Using some quick photoshop editing skills, I crafted 6 album covers to show what I was hearing (paired with their audio clips, of course).

 

As I walked past my house, my dog greeted me by barking in my face. Even though he knows me, the world beyond the fence still feels scary to him. It made me laugh, reminding me of when he was a puppy—full of energy, rushing back and forth along the fence line with our older dog, who recently passed away. This sound carries a sentimental weight for me now, as I don’t hear it as often anymore.

Soundlink

This sound was a little tricky to capture. The telltale sign that summer has arrived is when the cicadas emerge and begin their maddening noise. As I walked, I must have startled a few, prompting their sharp, irritating buzz. Although the sound grates on my nerves, it’s tied to every summer I’ve spent in Tucson, such as swimming in a pop-up pool in the backyard, biking around the neighborhood, and even working as a summer camp counselor. As droning and anxiety-inducing as it is, this sound is the soundtrack of summer for me.

Besides the cicadas and bees, another sound I noticed was the birds. They are especially loud where my parents live, right in the heart of the desert. Even as I walked by, they did not fly away. Their calls reminded me of the quiet mornings I used to spend outside with my dog. Their songs feel like a natural soundtrack, one that busy cities often drown out with noise. I cherish it every time I hear it.

Soundlink

There was so much wildlife out and about. You could hear animals scurrying through the bushes and cacti that line the street. That sound reminded me that life is always moving, no matter what you’re doing. It also brought back a memory of when my sister and I found and saved a bunny nest in our backyard as kids.

The sound I enjoyed most was the rustling of the palm trees. They pulsed overhead with each gust of wind, then quieted after every crescendo. The noise had a calming effect, almost like being near the ocean. As I listened, I imagined myself lying in the grass, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds drift slowly by. My heart ached as I passed, as if the trees were calling me to pause and take a moment to relax.

Soundlink

 

The last sound I documented was the droning noise of the main street near my home. Cars rush by and can be heard throughout the neighborhood. The phrase “urban sing” came to mind, as it really is a constant tune wherever you go in Tucson. The busy, day-to-day rhythm of human life does not stop nature, but it does begin to overtake the harmony they once shared. Infrastructure replaces natural landscapes, which, as mentioned in the podcast we listened to, can negatively affect how we feel. These monotone, mechanical sounds can influence our mood in subtle but powerful ways. Still, as I walked farther from the street, the noise faded into the background. It made me miss Show Low, a place my family used to camp every summer, where the only soundtrack was wind, trees, and quiet.

Soundlink

Walk 2: Smell

    As I walked this same path the following evening, I found it incredibly difficult to smell anything besides dust, courtesy of the Arizona dirt and wind. I did find flowers throughout the neighborhood closest to the main street, as well as some fruit on top of barrel cacti. 

    The fruit on the barrel cacti smells sour and bitter, much like pineapple without the sweet tang, of course. This smell evokes memories of my siblings and I using them like paintbrushes on our neighbor's brick wall in the desert behind our backyard gate (pictured in the 6th photo). As we pressed them into the wall, this smell became pungent and filled the surrounding air alongside our laughs.

    Continuing on the walk, there are tires on the side of the street for brush and bulky to come and collect. I'm sure they are from my dad since they are right across the street from us. Funny enough, the smell reminds me of him since he works as a mechanic and often comes home smelling of gasoline, oil, and rubber. 

    The last space I documented for smell was in our wash, seen in photos 7 and 8. The sand crackled underneath my feet as I pressed through to visit a space I used to go to a lot as a kid. I did walk up to our old fort that I made with my old friends in the neighborhood back when I was in elementary school. It looks like it's been inhabited by someone else, as there was a musty, pungent smell wafting from the chair that was placed there. As I walked away, the dusty smell became even more apparent, with hints of the mesquite trees filling the air. Being in this space and the smell of the trees remind me of the monsoons. When the flash floods in the neighborhood cause the water to rush into the wash, this space is covered in the mesquite tree and creosote bush smell, which is barely smellable now. It reminds me of how I used to lie outside in the rain, letting the drops hit my face and body, washing away my worries. 

Stop 1: Pretty flowers in the neighborhood.

Stop 2: Bright pink flower stems.

Stop 3: Barrel cactus fruit.

Stop 4: Homegrown flowers on bushes.

Stop 5: Tires. Ew.

Stop 6: Land behind our gate.

Stop 7: The wash.

Stop 8: Our old fort in the wash.

After-Walk Thoughts:

All of these spaces unfolded memories from my past, present, and the space I currently inhabit. This experience allowed me to connect deeply with my surroundings and tap into thoughts and feelings I hadn’t thought of in a long time. By tuning into the sounds, smells, and sensations around me, I was able to reflect on where I’ve been, where I am, and how place continues to shape me and who I am. This process of slowing down and being present during these walks has really impacted the way that I think about moving through a space.