When I lived in Washington, DC for a few years, I used cognitive
maps to navigate around my new city. The
framework of my map was based on the city’s street grid system, where
north-south streets are numbered and east-west streets are alphabetized. Thus, even though I was new to the city, when
someone said they were at 19th & K or 31st & M, I
was able to refer to the grid in my head and could deduce a pretty accurate
estimate of where in the city they were geographically. Of course, the radial avenues could always
throw you off a bit, but with time your mental map was able to account for
those as well. Another major piece of my cognitive map were the monuments and institutions, especially the White House, Washington Monument, Capital, and Mall that acted as points of reference.
Additionally, even if I hadn’t been to an exact location
in the city before, I might have an idea if the area were a residential neighborhood or
commercial district, and my knowledge of the geographic location would be
supplemented with representational imagery of what the area probably looked
like. The North-West area of the city
would have stately townhomes, whereas the further east you went the residential
housing became more simple working class housing. Thus, when meeting someone at 19th
& K, even if I had never been there before, my mental map would allow me to
reasonably predict what the street might look like, how safe it might be, and
give me some options on how to get there.
My mental map would include the Metro system’s subway and even bus
routes when contemplating navigation choices.
My mental model went beyond my experiences to create a multifaceted tool
for navigation. The longer I lived in
the city, the more my map expanded and improved through repeated exposures to
different areas. I was able to create
more representations that enriched my mental network through experience. However, this map would also have it’s
limitations.
When my parents would come to visit they would often rent a
car because they were used to driving. I
however did not own a car in the city and got around by walking and taking
public transportation. This became a problem
because while I knew my way around the city on foot, my mental maps did not include
traffic patterns or controls because I hadn’t experienced them. Therefore, I was not aware of which roads
were one-way and which had turning limitations and I struggled to direct my
parents to drive in my own neighborhood.
My cognitive map had simply not had to consider vehicular traffic
controls before because as pedestrian, there are no one-way streets or limits
on turning. My mental map only included
my experience as a pedestrian and public transit user, and there were definite
gaps in my ability to navigate a vehicle through the area. However, with each wrong turn we had to take,
I was able to mentally map where we were and recalculate how we might get back
onto our route at the next intersection.
It was an imperfect map, but it was still functional and I was able to
strategize several options for arriving at our destination. It is safe to say that my cognitive map had
greatly expanded after the trip and now contained new information and
representations gleaned from my experiences driving. Thus, a cognitive map is always a work in progress, never complete and constantly being refined.
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