Yeah, every place has its own drum line, even if you can’t hear it on the streets. Some cities bump to the beat of traffic lights, others sync with the sound of trains, and a few even have actual street performers that turn sidewalks into percussive stages. When you listen close, the rhythm of a city is all the small noises you miss—coffee shop clinks, kids laughing, the thump of a subway. It’s the city’s heartbeat, and chasing it is like chasing a groove that never stops. Keep your ears open and your feet ready to tap; that’s where the real pulse lives.

Sure thing—think of the old market in Marrakesh where vendors shout calls in a rolling chant that feels like a drum circle, or that subway station in Tokyo where the constant hiss of trains and the footsteps of commuters create a living rhythm. In New York you’ve got the echo of traffic on the avenues and the subway’s deep boom, while in a small town in Oaxaca the sound of a tin can drum in the square flips the usual silence into a party. Those places just keep the beat alive, no matter where you are.

I love a quiet corner café in Istanbul where the hiss of the kettle and the clink of saucers become a steady bass line, or a rainy alley in Rio where the drip of rain on tile makes a syncopated splash—quiet but still pulsing. In Kyoto, a narrow path beside a koi pond where the fish ripple like cymbals. Those hidden spots keep the beat alive even when the world’s hushed.