So what will it be this weekend? Something current or a more vintage option? No, I am not talking about what food to order or music to listen too. I am actually contemplating which solo walks to go on. The fact I can’t immediately make a decision demonstrates how Abu Dhabi has evolved over the decades. For many permanent and seasoned residents of the capital, the initial choice was as clear as it was limited: the Corniche. It’s not so hard to see why. The beautifully lit promenade is both a scenic and sentimental favourite. Not only is the best place to experience a refreshing coastal breeze from the Arabian Gulf, but the well-maintained eight kilometre path goes through dozens of parks and resting spots. This is where I go when I am looking for nostalgia and to appreciate what the city represents. Despite its many glimmering edifices, Abu Dhabi is defined more by its vibe than landmarks. It is an atmosphere of family, community and tradition. I go to the Corniche on evenings to remember that, despite the lack of festivals, concerts and major gatherings, the pandemic has not robbed the city of its soul. Instead, I see it in the smiles of siblings playing with each other, with parents looking on from a bench, sipping homemade tea poured from flasks. I also see it in the small groups of masked men and women walking together, having the kind of spirited conversation that only comes after decades of friendship. Like many who can't travel overseas to see our loved ones, I stroll along the Corniche to relieve those wonderful moments when my family last visited me. The jogging paths remind me of the bicycle rides I shared with my younger sisters, while the quiet stretch of greenery near the intersection of the West Corniche Road and Mubarak bin Mohammed Street is the spot we would lay our spread of sandwiches, salads and drinks for some amazing nocturnal picnics. To appreciate the present, I only have to step outside my apartment on Reem Island. Where once it was a sea of unabashed construction sites, the potential of the location has been bearing fruit over the last two years with picturesque additions such as the recently opened <a href="https://www.thenationalnews.com/lifestyle/wellbeing/skating-wall-climbing-ping-pong-abu-dhabi-residents-make-the-most-of-al-fay-park-1.1151972">Al Fay Park</a> and designated walking paths. Crisscrossed by a series of canal promenades, this is where I go in the early mornings for a purposeful stride across a particular section of the island. For a more prosaic experience, I purposefully get myself lost on one of the paths and enjoy the normally-two-hour adventure to find my way home. And for a bit of a “then” and “now,” experience, I venture to Umm Al Emarat Park. Walking through the manicured gardens and uber-cool food trucks continues to astound me. I can still remember the place from its days as the former-Mushrif Park. Before its multi-million dirham renovation, the site was charmingly ageing with rusted swings, monkey bars and assorted rides such as a mid-sized Ferris wheel and bumper cars. There were also little stalls selling Dh1 Sun Top fruit juices and a limited selection of crisps and chocolate. Now I can sit on gleaming bench and sip on a Spanish Latte while digging into a Spinach salad with avocado, oranges and pistachios. I feel gratitude on these sojourns, both for what I have but to also witness how the city of my birth grew along with me. I know how fortunate I am to live in a country where I am allowed to experience these moments of calm and reflection every day, while a raging pandemic denies many parts of the world that same privilege. It also reaffirms the timeless principle that the simplest things are often the most meaningful. So if you are tired, anxious and restless, or just need to remember things will get better, get outside and go for a walk. Not only is it free, but the insights gained can often be priceless.