Every city has two versions: the one residents commute through and the one visitors photograph. The gap between them is attention, not distance. The visitor sees the architecture, the menu in the window, the street that bends for no reason — and the resident sees the route to work. The fix is to borrow the visitor's eyes for a weekend.
Three small experiments bring them back. Walk the two kilometers around your own street and note the shops you have never entered. Eat one meal a month somewhere you would never pick — the place with the handwritten menu, not the review. And visit one landmark on a weekday morning, when it belongs to the city rather than the crowd.
The deeper shift is the route. Walk or ride one new street a week with no destination, and the map in your head grows again. The city you live in will never be the city you moved to — that is the point. It is a place you get to know over years, and knowing it is the whole pleasure.