365 Cities?

I was thinking as I have been getting ready to go to Chicago in the dead of winter for a poorly-thought out birthday present to self how can we make 365 Cities?

What I mean is that we in the planning world talk about "24 Hour Streets." 24 Hour Streets are streets where there are few lags in activity throughout a 24 hour period. Think New York City streets- many of them have delivery trucks coming at the crack of dawn or in the middle of the night to make their drop-offs, then the commuters hustle along the same streets to get to work. After the morning rush hour tourists or senior citizens or work-at-home people may take a walk on the same strips of cement that a mere hour before expensive wingtips and stilettos traipsed upon. Then comes the lunch crowd and the afternoon tourists, students, and free lancers. 4 o'clock - 7 o'clock the corporate workers pour out of their office buildings and make the trek home. They mingle with the dinner crowd and after that comes the wave of pub crawls and nightlife seekers. Although last call may come at 2 or 3 AM the delivery trucks are starting up. And the cycle continues.

This is of course an idealistic concept and not every street in NYC is busy at every hour of the day. But the point is that there is usually always something going on.

Therefore, I wondered, if there are 24 Hour Streets, could we make 365 Cities?

In THE biggest cities in the world like New York and Tokyo yes we can have 365 cities. These two places, and maybe London? (I wouldn't know, haven't been) or Rome-? are such hubs of activity that like the Post Office neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor hail will deter the public from using the city be it for work or pleasure. If it's raining in Tokyo and it's your first time there are you seriously going to just stay in your hotel room and watch it come down? Unlikely!

But what about places where there may not be as many attractions to pull you out of your hotel room or there are attractions, but the weather can be mercurial? For example, Chicago.

It's easy to create walkable communities in places where it is sunny and warm at least 8 months out of the year (though it can also be potentially humid or muggy during those sunny warm times). But what if 8 of those months, or it feels like 8, are either snowing, raining, or hailing?

Although I have great respect for the New Urbanists, but they tend to gloss over the effect regional weather can have on people's desire to go for a walkabout. The New Urbanists are also are savvy enough to build their most well known developments below the Mason-Dixon line. Two of the most well-known members, Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk made their names with Seaside, FL and Celebration, FL, www.dpz.com

In a related argument there are several critics who scoff at the "skywalks" of Minneapolis and other cities, saying that it takes away from the character of the street. But what if the "character" is only out for 6 months of the year? Yes, I know, 6 is more than zero. But 4 of those months you are all but guaranteed snow, wind, and/or freezing temperatures. People think I'm joking. Ha! Come to Minnesota in April or October and we'll see who the joke's on now! PS- bring a scarf. As Dean Martin said, "baby, it's cold outside!"

And I would argue that skywalks will not provide the final nail in the proverbial coffin. I first encountered the skywalks of Minneapolis in the third grade, from the street level thank you very much. Contrary to whatever futurist nightmares the critics think skywalks will produce I can assure you that Minneapolis does not look like some Bladerunner-like city out of the Matrix with tubes coming out of buildings. There are a few. They are incredibly useful in the winter. But the downtown skyline doesn't look like a cyber-punk octopus is trying to strangle all of the buildings.

However, all is not lost. Ray Oldenburg, in his work, the Great Good Place, talks about "third spaces," which I also cite a lot, especially in this blog. And I would like to propose that perhaps, although we planners advocate for increased walkability and people mingling on the streets, perhaps "third spaces" are more realistic for places with less than ideal weather and an auto-centric world.

Oldenburg's examples of third spaces include: cafes, coffee shops, bookstores, bars, hair salons and other hangouts (to crib from his subtitle). For my pop culture reference of the day, the movie Barbershop (starring Ice Cube and Eve) predominately takes place in a "third space," a barbershop, from which the movie takes its title. The movie is also set some time in winter on the South Side of Chicago and as it is too cold to mingle on the streets for long many of the characters in the film come into the barbershop for their social contact. See if that happens at your local Supercuts be it in Chicago or San Diego.

I'm all for walkability, but I think that critics need to be realistic about what people are willing to do under normal circumstances. And if there are not ideal meteorological conditions, people will be apt to stay inside. This doesn't mean that there can't be indoor third spaces. Will this lead to 365 Cities? Probably not. What makes Tokyo and New York so special is that they're always on, they have an electric pulse that thrums with the life of their city. Should Cleveland or Rochester be strive to be like that? No, but finding ways to create third spaces within their cities would serve them well, especially when "baby it's cold outside!"

East vs. West, or I Always Wondered About This

I was always curious about why it can sometimes seem like the "west side" of an area is nicer than the east side. The author postulates that it was due to the direction of the wind, which would blow pollution eastward, prompting the rich to move westward.

http://www.planetizen.com/node/47486

The "west is best" argument is obviously not true in Wausau, as clllllearly the academically gifted reside on the superior east side of town. The fact that I used to live on the east side (go Lumberjacks!) has nothing to do with my statement of "fact" ;) The east side also has the gorgeous historic homes of Franklin Street and the Leigh Yawkey Art Museum.

The west side of LA is definitely "nicer" than the east side of LA. My beloved gelato shop is there, there is more shopping, and all kinds of vibrant businesses and creative venues. In fact, when many people speak of "East LA" it's in a tone reserved for the "poor Little Nells" of the world.

East LA may not have the reputation for violence that South LA has, but it does have blight and as East LA proper is unincorporated it suffers from being economically disadvantaged. But people make it their home. There are street cart vendors and small businesses. Family ties are probably stronger and stretch further than one's immediate family. And there are some lovely affordable housing sites whose models resemble market-rate homes elsewhere.

However, no matter how you frame it, it's significantly hotter, especially in the summer, than the west side which is cooled by delicious ocean breezes, even a few miles inland. And when the temperature reaches the triple digits I'd rather be at the beach than espousing the benefits of having your extended family under your roof.

The author's theory, on closer inspection, could be a sweeping generalization. In New York it's not a clean cut haves and have-nots. The Upper East Side is the swankier side, the west is more liberal. Though in some areas some boho babies are also trust fund kids who are slummin it with their beatnik and hipster buddies. And in Chicago it's kind of hard to say as it's built almost on the lake. There is the Gold Coast that is on the east side, but Lawndale, which is a really rough section of Chicago is on the west. Though if you drive for a few more minutes you are in the very nice suburb of Oak Park. And the swank city of Pasadena is on the east side of the general area of greater Los Angeles.

But in smaller cities the west side can be nicer, more cosmopolitan, etc., For example, in MSP- Minneapolis is the more cosmopolitan, while St. Paul, though lovely, is more reserved and less glam.

At least, when it comes to LA the answer is literally blowing in the wind! (And a lot of history that I am blatantly glossing over as this is a blog post not a book) For more info on the history of LA there are a ton of books, but the Reluctant Metropolis, by my former prof, William "Bill" Fulton is great and City of Quartz or the Ecology of Fear are "interesting" reads by Mike Davis. They're on my bookshelf. But Amazon.com will be more than happy to supply you with hundreds of other titles. :)

Isn't It Ironic, Don't You Think? A Little Too Ironic

I had some free time and was reading Los Angeles author, Sandra Tsing Loh's book, Mother on Fire when I came across this passage,

"I am a person who believes that in Los Angeles, people's innermost personalities, their philosophies even, are revealed in the driving routes they choose, the trail of bread crumbs they make as they weave their way through the city" (Tsing Loh, 58).

One of the funniest points in the animated movie Madagascar was when the menagerie of animals asks an NYPD horse how to get to point X. The horse starts telling them, with great authority in his voice when another NYPD horse butts in and gives an alternate sense of directions. The two horses begin to argue over whose directions are superior while the other animals grow agitated. Unfortunately, I was one of the few people who actually thought that Madagascar was funny. It was aimed at a NYC-centric audience, or at least an audience who would pick up on jokes such as New Yorkers priding themselves on possessing the best set of directions to anywhere in their city, or surrounding burroughs.

Meanwhile, I am often clueless where I am until 6 months after I have left a city and adhere religiously to set ways to get places until after I have moved away. (NYC is the exception- I'm an excellent navigator there, but you'd have to be a cross-eyed monkey not to know where you are)

I was thinking about getting from point A via various routes as I have been navigating the street network of my parents' latest residential town. This year it is Windsor Heights, Iowa, a suburb, if such a word can be utilized to describe, of Des Moines. Last year it was a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota, ie Shoreview, Minnesota. Next year it'll probably be the moon.

As I drive down Hickman, one of the main streets, I keep looking for White Bear Lake Road, which will take me to Target. Yes, if the Target I was looking for was in Shoreview. Or I keep craning my neck for Culver's, which is by my mom's work and the proffer of treats both hot and cold- frozen custard and Butter Burgers. (the hamburger bun is buttered, it's not some French fusion take on the American classic). But my mom does not work at an accounting firm anymore. She works as a payroll specialist at a bowling alley. Which is not near a Culver's. Or at least not to my knowledge.

I have come to realize that I am an excellent navigator. In places that I have been. Not in places that I current am. (the same is also true for my foreign language skills- while in Italian all of my sub-par French came rushing back.)

Meanwhile, in LA, I blissfully take in the city while my friends drive, or while I take public transportation ignoring most major streets and intersections. I have a gift for describing the feel of a place. But the cross-streets, um, why don't you ask him over there?

This is a constant bone of contention between my friend Derek (my go-to driver/ride) and myself. Derek grew up in Orange County, which is a stone's throw away from LA. And if I had been an OC kid I would have been hightailing it up to LA every chance I could get the keys. Incidentally, people from Orange County do NOT call it the "OC," just as true San Franciscans do not call it Frisco. Therefore, I assume that Derek has a sixth sense of the streets of LA. Especially when we are going some place unfamiliar to me. More often than not he doesn't know how to get there either but assumes that I have squirreled away a set of directions or possess a sense of navigation I have yet to procure.

I have come to realize this when our drive starts to take five, ten, fifteen minutes longer than Mapquest (despite its fallible glory) predicted. Usually it boils down to me asking if he knows where the place is, he replying that he thought that I did, I saying no, him asking if I had printed out directions, and my response as being I thought that he would know the general area so, no. People say that we act like brother and sister. A lot. I have yet to dispute their claims successfully.

My friend Eddie, however, who was more reliant on public transportation than I until his car arrived from Rhode Island, is an excellent navigator, despite being an LA transplant himself. Eddie is also more technically-oriented than I am and can write an amazing paper in about two hours, no prior prep while I academically crucify myself for about three weeks straight before the turn-in date.

If I stay in LA I'll pay more attention to the streets' names. Until then, despite the great irony that I am getting my masters in urban planning, I don't know where a lot of the major streets intersect- does Santa Monica run parallel or perpendicular to Vermont? Will Olympic and Normandie ever intersect? Uh, I don't think so, but don't quote me, etc.,

Ask me in ten years, when, maybe, I won't be in LA, the best way to get to the Glendale Galleria from Little Tokyo (ie downtown LA) during rush hour. I'll probably have excellent directions. Have me describe the feel of Weller Court in Little Tokyo- well, you got a pen?

And That's When I Realized, I Was Home, a valentine to the City of Angels

I just got home from a trip to Sin City, Las Vegas, with a bunch of my classmates at USC. As much as Las Vegas reminds me of a zoo, they really shouldn't exist, but they're here, so we may as well enjoy them, I had a great time.

The problem with Las Vegas is that if you're there for only a short time there is a desire to squeeze out as much fun and debauchery as possible. This leads to dehydration, exhaustion, and other unpleasant sensations.

We were only there for a day and a half, so we rushed around to the Bellagio, the MGM Grand, Caesar's Palace, etc., having a grand old time. But after a while I grew tired and was relieved that we were going home so I could collapse on my own bed.

But what I wasn't counting on was the reassuring sensation that came over me as we pulled into the city. I saw the skyline and familiar road signs and I thought to myself, I am home.

Home is an abstract concept for me as my family and I have lived in a ton of places, I have lived on my own in a variety of settings, and I have friends all over the U.S. I have written about this before, but it is still something with which I am wrestling.

I never expected to fall in love with L.A. other than enjoying wearing t-shirts in January while my parents are still shoveling snow in Minnesota. But I really have fallen in love with L.A. There is such a diversity here that is unmatched by any place on earth, even New York, or my beloved Chicago.

I went back to Chicago for New Year's and there was so much that was familiar and felt like I'd never left. But at the same time I yearned for things that were in L.A. that didn't exist in Chicago, and not just warmer weather. They don't have taco trucks, or especially Korean BBQ trucks (horrors! though they do have the vendor pushcarts i.e. roach coaches) nor is their Asian population as large as L.A. There is a Chinatown in Chicago, but no Thai Town, Little Tokyo, or Koreatown. Though in their defense they have Greektown and a much more predominant Polish and Irish population than the City of Angels.

It was also a little eerie seeing American Apparel stores popping up in Chicago. American Apparel is based out of Los Angeles, including their manufacturing plant. But to see it in the Windy City with negative wind chills was surreal, though inevitable as American Apparel's population increases without abatement.

Chicago still outpaces L.A. any day in terms of public transit and the way it so seamlessly woven into the urban landscape is inspiring. But the cold and ice is miserable.

Quite a few of the architectural hallmarks in Los Angeles are grounded in pop culture, not architectural history, such as Capitol Records and the Hollywood sign versus the Sears Tower and the Hancock Building. But there is also an abundance of Art Deco to be found in L.A., for which I am a HUGE sucker.

I still love Chicago, but I don't think that I will be planning there any time soon. Chicago politics being what they are is a huge obstacle and I don't think I want to move back to the Chicago "area" to plan one of its suburbs, though I may change my mind on that in the future.

The future remains unwritten, but for now I have found my place, and it is under the sun.

How Far Is Too Far?

I am getting a new apartment in Los Angeles this weekend, actually, hopefully, ideally, renting a room in a house that rents out all of the rooms to individual tenants- and USC grad students only if everything goes according to plan.

But the age-old question of location, location, location had me thinking- how far is too far? Points A and B being your place of residence and your consistent destination- work, school, your kid's school, your place of worship, your favorite protesting spot, whatever.

For some of you who know me, I have lived in 11, soon to be 12 places in 26 years. And for the most part my family and I have selected our dwellings within reasonable proximity to our locations that we would frequent often i.e. work, school, and church. When I say reasonable proximity I mean about 15-20 minutes. We never lived in any big, big cities, so traveling times were pretty consistent, with weather being the only variable- black ice? add at least 5 minutes for safety.

It threw us for a loop when we moved to Connecticut and people lived in different towns, but knew each other as if they were in the same zip code. Like I said, we lived in small towns and yes people from Wausau knew people from Merrill, but they went to different churches, their kids to different schools, etc., To live in Avon, but to go to church in Canton was very strange to us. The Connecticut way of life still remains very strange to me. I'm surprised no one has spontaneously combusted yet.

When I moved to Chicago on my own it took me a good hour to get to work via public transportation- bus + the Red line, not counting delays due to linework, which was a constant in the summer of 2006.

Sometimes I took my car, but during the holidays working retail in Lincoln Park made it impossible to find a spot for my car, so I relied on the ease of the public transportation. And when my car was damaged beyond repair my prior experience using public transportation made the journey less of a hassle and more of just a part of my going-to-work routine.

When I moved to the suburb of Naperville I chose an apartment whose location was only ten minutes driving time away, but unfortunately was not located on a road that was safe enough to get to on foot.

Now it takes me about half an hour (on foot) to get to my current job. Some people are horrified when I tell them how long it takes and more than three people have offered to pick me up on their way to work. But my walk not only gives me exercise, it also gives me a chance to wake up and really immerse myself in my surroundings.

But my latest relocation had me thinking. The champions of New Urbanism argue that our auto-dependent society has allowed people to live farther from their jobs- not necessarily a bad thing at the end of the day- but not great for the environment either when you consider how many emissions and pollutions one can accrue over simply a five-day work week when mass transit is possible.

Note I didn't say plausible as many people in the suburbs can attest to- I don't even want to know how few suburbs even have a bus line running through or within reasonable walking distance of the major sub-divisions.

Unlike say, Chicago (how I love their transportation department!) where one is hard pressed to find a major neighborhood that is not near some form of public transportation. And New York? Fugghedaboudit! In one ill-planned trip I managed to get from Wall Street to the West Side to midtown with the help of the NY subway system and my own dogged determination.

We have family friends who live up in the Bay Area and the father commutes two hours-each way! each day to get to his job. This is beyond crazy to me. Yes, I understand the need to have your kids be in "good schools," "safe neighborhoods," etc., But Dad has to schlep two hours each way each day? Oi. . . This is not uncommon for people in the Bay Area- my housemate's dad, when he (my housemate) was growing up- would ride his motorcycle- come rain or shine between the lanes of stalled cars (think the opening scene from Office Space)- two hours to get to his job.

I have no doubt that this is true for families across the country, especially in bigger, non-mass-transit oriented cities, especially in the South like Atlanta and Charlotte. But I think that it is a time for a revolution.

Hopefully as part of the "green" movement more funding will be devoted to mass transit, and innovative forms of it- light rail, anyone? And two hour one-way commutes will become a thing of the past. Here's hoping.

Parks Are Good, Right?

By now everyone has come to accept that green is good. Unfortunately, green can also be expensive. I am speaking specifically of parks.

For some urban planners, one can never have enough parks. New urbanists like to design nieghborhoods around a park or community center that is centrally located. We have all seen the success of great parks such as Chicago's Millennium Park and Savannah's Forsyth Park and the most famous park, Central Park in New York City.

I say that there is nothing wrong with parks. I loved eating my lunch at Millennium Park in Chicago when I worked at the Art Institute, which is right across the street in the heart of the Loop. Exeter, CA has the most adorable recreational park across the street from a school and it is also flocked on all sides by pre-war homes that would make a new urbanist swoon. And I can recall many a picnic spent at the local park in my former hometown in central Wisconsin.

Parks provide greenery, vegetation, a change of scenery and a place for people to gather and relax. Parks often are the only source of nature in some sections of cities. Although I love New York City with a passion, there is very limited green space in the Big Apple. When I think of New York I think of a vibrant city, but one that is composed of miles and miles of cement and very little greenery with the exception of the trees that line the sidewalks.

Other cities, like Savannah, GA have lots of greenery. Savannah is known for their "Jewel Plan" and in the heart of the city every square has a small park at its center. Each is unique, but you can often find centuries-old oak trees strewn with the ever-present Spanish moss, myrtle, azalea bushes, etc.,

But when it comes to parks, a few problems arise. For the sake of objective arguments, let me play devil's advocate for a moment. For one, who pays for a park's upkeep? Sure, most everyone likes them, but does everyone want to pay to make sure that the park remains pristine? Park maintenance costs can sneakily be written into city budgets, but if people really knew how much it costs to keep their parks nice they would probably balk.

For those penny pushers I point out that park maintenance provides employment to people and beautifies our cities.

Another question is who has the right to the park? The obvious answer would be everyone, but at the same time does this blanket term of everyone come with restrictions? Just about everybody likes a picnic, but what about the homeless person who is slumped under the nearby tree? You and your significant other are enjoying a quiet romantic picnic in a secluded area and suddenly a slew of kids sets up shop and shows no signs of leaving. Whose park is it now?

Just like any other part of the city, parks belong to everyone, regardless of race, creed, religion, etc., The police and other law enforcement may say that the parks shouldn't serve as an outdoor sleeping quarters for the homeless and other destitute members of society, and for the safety of all parties involved I do agree. Being homeless puts a person at much higher risk for being attacked and no one should have to sleep under the stars unless they're deliberately camping.

But this points to a bigger issue, how to help the homeless?

a little slice of me part II: the more things change, the less they stay the same

Every little kid is vaguely cognisant of his or her surroundings growing up, but I have come to realize that I took true delight in seeing other cities and what made them different from where I lived even as a kid-o. And being keenly aware of this intangible "sense of space" I was deeply affected by the changes that were made in my city, be they for good or bad, even when I no longer lived there.

When I was in the third grade I went on my first trip (that I could remember) to a big city. I remember being enamoured with the city that is Minneapolis and being in awe of their skywalks, an ingenious invention in a city that is colder than it has any right to be in winter.

My passion for cities grew when I visited New York City for the first time as a high schooler when we moved out to CT. I had always wanted to visit New York and to be swept up into the hustle and bustle of the pre-holidays season was fantastic. But I loved it that much more when I visited in college on my own, for a job interview, and was able to navigate it based on its simple, and frankly intuitive, grid plan. This is coming from someone who can get lost in her own town with just two missed turns and no idea how to "just retrace her steps."

My interest in downtown revitalization, another key focus of mine, was sparked when my dad took me to the Historic Third Ward in Milwaukee. I've mentioned this before ("Gentrification," Tuesday, August 12, 2008)and Milwaukee is definitely the sweet, but dowdy cousin of chic, sophisticated Chicago, but that didn't stop them from creating a Historic Third Ward, which has created its own little flair in a charming city.

Another turn of events that affected my understanding of cities was when the city of Wausau, home of the majority of my childhood, location of the the beloved Franklin Street, and the "eh" library tore out a huge section of the downtown to make a downtown park (see John Michlig's blog, "Sprawled Out: the Search for Community in the American Suburb) for a picture of what it looks like now). I won't be back there until Christmas and when I do it'll be covered in snow, so, please enjoy his pictures (and hard work).

My dad, I think, is a latent, amateur architecture buff too and certainly a lover of beautiful things and we would go "downtown" on Saturdays and have coffee and donuts and look at the old pre-war buildings that have stood the test of time- and frankly had been immune to the need for historic preservation as rarely did anyone ever want to demo a building. And if so it'd be like wanting to send grandma out into the cold world with nothing but the clothes on her back- you just don't do it 'cause why would you?!

Even for the people of Wausau who have no idea what urban planning is, this was a change and a shock. We had moved away by the time this restructuring of the downtown occurred, but upon coming back it was a sliver of what it must be like to come home to one's house having burned to the ground or waking up after a car accident and seeing that you have lost a limb. I, in no way wish to diminish the unspeakable tragedy that such circumstances are to those who have experienced them personally. But I will say that seeing the downtown looking everything and nothing like how it used to is like losing a part of yourself. It did drive home the point that every place has a "sense of place" and if you change one thing, you change everything, no matter how subtlely.

I won't even go into detail about how my beloved high school was turned into apartments/condos. It was an ingenious move on the city developers' part, but it literally meant that one can't go home, or back to school, again. I'd be less affected if I'd attended Wausau West, an ugly relic of 1970's architecture- grey masonry globbed together in a vaguely circular form with little to no windows. But I attended a beautiful pre-war building that even served as a city bomb shelter owing to the fact that the walls were three feet thick! I haven't seen the new apartment complex so I have no aesthetic judgment regarding the renovation. Suffice to say I hope that the people who live there now enjoy living in a part of history.

I attended college in Savannah, GA, which constantly harps on its "Jewel Plan" to anyone within shouting distance. And while it was aurally fatiguing to hear, it is a beautiful city that I highly recommend to anyone. Each square is unique and beautiful, ugh, like a jewel. But it was previous events, experienced much earlier, that really made me aware of a city and its impact on a person, no matter how small the change, or the person that is affected by it.