Gemini in Google Maps Planned My Day: It Exceeded Expectations

“It never once told me to walk into a river.”

“It never once told me to walk into a river.”

Many users are likely familiar with Gemini as an integrated feature across numerous Google services, often present regardless of personal preference.

While it has been a consistent, and at times intrusive, element within Gmail for approximately the past year, its introduction to Google Maps is relatively recent. Surprisingly, this new integration proves to be quite effective.

To assess its capabilities, I tasked Gemini with crafting a full-day itinerary for me within the city. After about an hour of using Gemini to locate various points of interest—such as playgrounds near a new light rail extension or kid-friendly restaurants with vehicle themes—I was genuinely impressed. Although some suggestions were predictable, I also discovered and bookmarked several appealing locations that were previously unknown to me.

Gemini faced a significant challenge: matching my own meticulous planning. I consider myself an avid Google Maps user, utilizing it not only for navigation but also for idly exploring and discovering new places. This method has led me to uncover hidden gems like bike routes, playgrounds, secluded parks, and new coffee shops. Ideally, I would spend every day exploring Seattle via public transit, visiting bookstores and unique stationery shops. While this is often how I spend a day off, I frequently become overwhelmed by the sheer number of options, ultimately defaulting to familiar neighborhoods. Therefore, I enlisted Gemini to guide me toward less-trodden paths.

Gemini manifests within Maps as “Ask Maps,” presenting a text box upon selection. It processes queries using data from Google Maps, including user reviews, and can also integrate information from other external sources. For instance, it can check the weather if you inquire about bringing an umbrella for a cross-town journey.

I provided Gemini with specific parameters: my travel would be exclusively by public transit, and I required a lunch stop, a pleasant walking area, and a laptop-friendly coffee shop, in that precise order. Additionally, I aimed to visit two distinct neighborhoods and needed to be home by 4:30 PM. Gemini’s initial suggestions—a café adjacent to a bookstore and a reliable downtown coffee shop—were very much aligned with my usual preferences, but I had recently visited both. After a brief iterative exchange, the itinerary was finalized: tacos, a plant-filled sanctuary, and a Scandinavian-inspired coffee shop.

Tacos Chukis was a familiar name to me, though I had never patronized it. I nearly missed the establishment, as it is discreetly situated at the rear of a building housing several other retail businesses, lacking a prominent street-side sign. However, Gemini accurately directed me to its location, arriving precisely as it had opened just 15 minutes prior. The AI’s itinerary subtly suggested the house specialty with grilled pineapple, a recommendation whose popularity I quickly understood. Following three excellent tacos, it was time to proceed to my next destination.

Finding myself ahead of schedule, I prompted Gemini to suggest a unique nearby shop to explore before my walk north to the park. It confidently recommended Elliott Bay Books—an excellent venue, but certainly not “one block east” as it erroneously claimed. This constituted the sole significant "hallucination" I encountered during this experiment, yet it could have posed a considerable inconvenience had I followed its instructions, especially given the torrential rain outside.

Upon my polite correction regarding the 10-minute misdirection, Gemini adjusted its recommendation, guiding me instead to Kobo: an exquisite little shop specializing in Japanese goods. I had visited their other location multiple times but was unaware of this nearby branch.

By the time I reached Volunteer Park, the front of my jacket was thoroughly drenched. My umbrella was primarily shielding my backpack, which contained my laptop, hence my damp state. Gemini had proposed either a scenic loop through the park or a visit to the conservatory—essentially a large greenhouse—as an option to dry off. The choice was obvious.

The botanical world is truly remarkable. For example, did you know there’s a tree that intentionally hollows itself out to attract ants, which then defend the tree from potential threats? This extraordinary phenomenon can be observed at the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a structure I had often seen but never entered. The $6 admission fee, which Gemini failed to mention, proved to be a minor cost for the opportunity to spend time in a warm, serene oasis on a rainy day.

A conservatory staff member noticed me admiring and photographing one of the towering palms. She kindly led me to the cacti room, insisting on taking my picture amidst the giant specimens. “It’s so beautiful in here I could cry!” she exclaimed before leaving me among the cacti. I wholeheartedly agreed. Cacti possess a certain ethereal quality, appearing in an astonishing array of shapes and sizes, from the iconic saguaro familiar from cartoons, to fluffy varieties, large spherical ones resembling uncomfortable footstools, and others that appear covered in peeling wax paper. Up close, they are both haunting and mystical, akin to encountering an owl in its natural habitat—a truly unexpected sight on a very wet day in the Pacific Northwest.

I’ve recently been reflecting on the tech industry’s apparent drive to leverage AI for promoting consumerism, a sentiment reinforced by a recent conversation with my friend Will Sattelberg at 9to5Google. The recurring pattern of AI demonstrations culminating in flight bookings or sneaker purchases has become tiresome. However, this isn't solely a tech industry phenomenon; I've also been examining my own tendency to seek out a transaction whenever I venture out.

I find myself drawn to places where I can acquire a new book, a coffee, or a small treat, partly, I believe, as a means to alleviate the inherent anxiety of merely existing in the world. How does one select a single destination from thousands on a map? What if I make the wrong choice and have a negative experience? My rationale suggests that purchasing a small item validates the worthiness of my outing. Yet, this feeling of satisfaction is often fleeting, leading me back to Google Maps to plan another excursion in pursuit of that perfectly curated home goods store that will somehow provide a lasting remedy.

Nonetheless, I did depart the conservatory with mementos: a damp admission ticket and a pair of child-sized gardening tools from the gift shop. My child enjoys digging in the yard while I weed, an activity I wish to encourage further. Sometimes, the ideal outing can simply be engaging with the dirt just outside one’s door. With that thought, a warm, dry Route 10 bus awaited to transport me to my final stop of the day: coffee.

How does one pick a place on the map when there are thousands to choose from?

I hadn’t heard of Day Made Kaffe, which struck me as peculiar, given my frequent presence in its neighborhood. Based on Gemini’s description of a minimalist yet warm and laptop-friendly coffee shop, it sounded precisely like my kind of establishment. Upon entering, I realized I had been there before, prior to its transformation into a coffee shop. The location previously housed—you guessed it—a sophisticated home goods store where I purchased Christmas gifts in 2024. Time, as they say, is a flat circle.

Gemini’s recommendation was spot on; Day Made perfectly aligned with my preferences. The coffee was excellent, and the ambiance was impeccable. Although the cardamom bun Gemini suggested was unavailable, I opted for a guava jelly pastry to counteract the dismal weather. I observed the Artemis II launch silently, departed the shop at 3:40 PM as instructed by Gemini, and boarded my final bus of the day. My arrival time back home? 4:26 PM. Mission accomplished.

If my extensive day out in the city was a triumph—and I believe it was—then its success was ultimately facilitated by people, not solely by Gemini. It was human reviews and recommendations that guided me to Tacos Chukis; Gemini merely served as an intermediary. However, when navigating the vast and often overwhelming dataset that constitutes Google Maps, a tool like Gemini emerges as exceptionally valuable.

I frequently rely on user reviews to accurately gauge a place’s child-friendliness, and Gemini empowers me to search numerous reviews across a broad area simultaneously to locate establishments offering both dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and craft cocktails. Crucially, when it comes to navigating from point A to point B, the large language model does not independently generate transit directions; instead, it seamlessly directs you to Google Maps’ native transit feature, which provides precise, real-time information.

Gemini also demonstrates a commendable level of transparency, often revealing the sources of its suggestions, allowing users to understand the basis of its claims. While it is not immune to "hallucinations"—a significant concern when relying on it for real-world navigation—this awareness allows for informed usage. Despite this caveat, I consider it an impressive tool, whether one is urgently seeking a nearby restaurant with high chairs for hungry and irritable companions, or embarking on a more leisurely journey of discovery.