People Watching

Why Do We Do It?

In Zurich

One of the pleasures of foreign travel is sitting at a cafe with a beverage and observing our fellow human beings. Guidebooks routinely praise certain cafes as great for “people watching,” as if it’s an activity like visiting a museum or going to a castle.

Outdoor cafes are best because you get to see not only the other customers but also the people going by on the street, those hurrying to their jobs or appointments, or people simply strolling along (sometimes with strollers), just going about their day. We see other tourists, too, and consider their footwear and backpack choices. Would we have been better off with their shoes, their bags?

So one reason we watch avidly is simply to compare ourselves to others. Am I as fit as that girl in her running tights? As elegant as that woman with the short hair? As smart as the guy absorbed in his philosophy book?

These comparisons aren’t idle because we can learn from each other. Watching a woman of forty walk by I think: So that’s a good way to tuck in a T-shirt—only in the front, letting the sides droop fetchingly. It does seem to make the waist look smaller and it’s a new and refreshing look. Maybe I’ll try it.

Or seeing a twenty-year-old out and about with only her phone makes me think: do I really have to lug my handbag everywhere I go? Sigh. Yeah, probably, because I need to have reading glasses, sunglasses, tissues, lip balm (or lipstick) and pen and paper with me at all times. I feel wistful for my youth, when I didn’t need to carry around so much stuff! I was like that girl once—sans iPhone, of course.

Where is she going? Who will she meet? An equally unencumbered friend? Or is she going to her job grooming dogs? Humans are perpetually curious about each other, and people watching leads us to guess or invent their stories. Is that dashing man of forty going to a business meeting—or an assignation? Is that well-dressed old lady as aristocratic as she looks? Are those two men brothers or twins?

Brian Klaas, a writer for the Atlantic (his Substack is “The Garden of Forking Paths”) says writing is “like learning to be a sponge that never gets wrung out, always observing, absorbing, thinking.” Watching people, like writing, keeps us active, engaged and alive.

And if you are alone at your cafe table, watching others can even lead to connection. Glance at the person at the next table and roll your eyes with him at the show off in the loud car. Say “bless you” if that woman in blue sneezes. Exchange a commiserating look with the woman who has the rowdy toddler. You might even venture to say, “He reminds me of my grandson.”

Because if you’re lucky, sometimes people watching leads to people meeting.