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When I first moved to Guadalajara, Centro Histórico seemed much larger than it does now.

A restaurant several blocks away felt like a destination. Going somewhere I had never been required a little planning. I might use Google Maps, put in my earbuds, and let the directions tell me where to turn so that I did not have to keep looking at my phone.

There is another good reason not to stare at your phone while walking in Guadalajara. You need to watch where you are going. Sidewalks can have holes, missing bricks, uneven pavement, and other surprises. I learned that lesson particularly well after taking a rather nasty fall on my way home from the Zaragoza market. Walking here requires paying attention both to what is around you and what is directly beneath your feet.

Most of the time, however, I am not walking simply to explore. I have somewhere to go. It might be DHL. It might be a print shop. I might need something for Casa Valentina. Sometimes my only errand is getting coffee or finding somewhere to eat. Whatever the reason, having a destination gets me out the door.

Then Guadalajara takes over.

An errand to DHL took me along Calle Zaragoza, where I discovered the produce market featured in my previous story. On another day, I needed to visit a print shop, which took me into a different part of Centro Histórico. Along the way, I discovered more old buildings, more churches, and more things to photograph.

Sometimes I deliberately change the route. If I am already several blocks west on Calle San Felipe, there is no particular reason to take the first familiar street home. I can walk another block or two before turning. The distance is essentially the same, but the view is different.

I notice the architecture first: old buildings, brightly colored walls, different facades, and the homes where people actually live. I notice restaurants and bars that I might want to remember. I pass small taquerías and smell what’s cooking. Simply by walking through the neighborhood, I discovered one restaurant serving several kinds of pozole and another serving Torta Ahogada, a local specialty of Guadalajara.

Some discoveries would be almost impossible to make from an Uber. Centro Histórico has pedestrian streets and plazas where a car cannot take you. There are statues tucked into those spaces, fountains you would never notice from the one nearby street, vendors selling their wares, and restaurants you are unlikely to discover through a car window.

Even when an Uber can take me past something, there is a good chance I will miss it. In an Uber, I am usually looking at my phone rather than paying attention to what is outside. Walking makes me look. It has also changed the way I understand where things are.

Early on, the cathedral, Plaza de Armas, Plaza de Liberación, restaurants, stores, and other places existed in my mind mostly as separate destinations. I knew I had been to them, but I did not necessarily understand how they connected. Gradually, those separate destinations began joining together.

I would turn onto a street and suddenly realize, Oh, this is the street that leads to the cathedral. On one walk, I approached the cathedral from a direction I had never used before and saw a side of it that I had previously seen only from up close.

I have walked through plazas without knowing their names. Creating social media posts has forced me to learn them. Now I know when I am in Plaza de Armas, Plaza de Liberación, or Plaza Guadalajara instead of simply recognizing the place. The physical distances have not changed. My perception of them has.

Just this past weekend, I went to Plaza de Liberación to check on something. Later that evening, I walked over to photograph Palacio de Gobierno and Plaza de Armas. Both trips took less than ten minutes.

When I first arrived, those same destinations could feel like they required considerably more effort. I think some of that was simply the stress of not knowing where I was going. Even then, the walk home usually seemed faster than the walk there because I knew where I was going.

Walking has also changed where I spend my time and money. When I first arrived, I quickly found the Starbucks at Plaza de Liberación. I went there two or three times. During the World Cup, getting there became more complicated because barricades could turn a relatively simple walk into a quarter-mile detour.

Meanwhile, on the way to Starbucks, I discovered Caffe·O·Le. It is less than a three-minute walk from Casa Valentina. I can get my iced espresso there, and I often have breakfast there as well. Had I been riding past the corner in a car, I probably never would have noticed it.

That may be one of the biggest differences between experiencing a city through a car window and learning it on foot. In a car, you usually travel between familiar destinations. Walking leaves room for everything in between.

There is plenty in Guadalajara that I cannot reasonably reach on foot. An Uber has taken me farther outside Centro Histórico to visit a notary, try a particular restaurant, or see parts of the city that are much more modern than the neighborhood where I live. When that happens, I sometimes have to remind myself to put down my phone and look outside.

Centro Histórico is different. Much of it makes more sense on foot. That was especially true during the World Cup, when streets were closed, barricades changed familiar routes, and traffic could be brutal. Guadalajara already has narrow and one-way streets. Add closures, and suddenly everyone in a car seems to be trying to use the same remaining route.

On foot, I can turn down another street. Sometimes that street leads nowhere particularly memorable. Sometimes it leads to a restaurant I want to try, a church I have never photographed, a fountain I did not know was there, or a market covering two blocks of sidewalk with fruits and vegetables.

All of those walks have also made me better at answering questions from guests at Casa Valentina. I do not need to know the formal directions to everything. Someone can ask where to find a pharmacy, a restaurant, or a market, and increasingly I can point and say something like, “Go four or five blocks that way and turn left.”

I would not call myself a local. Not yet. My Spanish alone reminds me that I still have a great deal to learn.

Guadalajara, however, no longer feels like a collection of destinations that I have to look up before leaving home. The routes overlap now. The buildings look familiar. I recognize plazas from different directions. I know where I can get coffee, where I buy my vegetables, and how to get home without asking my phone.

The city has not actually become any smaller.

I just know where I am now.