Coastal places lie with charm. Sea air flattens contrast. Sound bounces differently between buildings when gulls are audible. Harbours hide behind a single turn. If you grew up inland, coastal scale can feel subtly wrong, too open, too bright, too much sky for the amount of street you think you should get.
Ports, promenades, and working waterfronts
A promenade built for strolling reads different from a ferry working yard: paint worn by salt, chain rigging, cranes that ignore aesthetics. Both can be coastal; one invites a Mediterranean guess faster, the other might still be anywhere with an economy that moves containers and people.
Use water features as confirmation, not as a starting pistol. Rivers pretend to be oceans on wide shots; lakes mimic seas on hazy days.
Scale tricks that fool confident guessers
Telephoto lenses compress depth. Wide lenses exaggerate curvature. A hill above a bay can look like an island chain. The staff practices humility by asking: if we strip away the romance, what is still true about climate, road width, and language? Romance is fun; evidence pays rent.