'How should Oslo be?'

Last night at Oslo's center for design and architecture (DogA) opened an exhibition on the conceptual and actual planning for the future growth of the city. The day before, a news article covered one set of concept projects by MVRDV plus some local offices, which were meant largely designed to provoke. As seems to be the trend in urban planning, the questions are very clear but the solutions less so.

MVRDV image from Aftenposten, ring of high rises around city center.
Source: http://ap.mnocdn.no/incoming/article6759467.ece/ALTERNATES/w780c169/FS00015036.jpg?updated=110220121826

I was struck first by the article with MVRDVs proposals. They cleverly cover a great deal of the city and surrounding districts with variations of feasibility. Many of the options suggest densifying and/or developing national landmarked parks and other points of interest which has made for intriguing local debates. In the end, I cannot help feeling a bit underwhelmed by the work. Somehow it seems that the richest country on the planet with some of the most progressive environmental policies might be able to push for something new. These published "solutions" instead transport me directly back my undergrad education flipping through Koolhaas' 1998 book S, M, L, XL. Then the forms, graphics, and principles seemed new and innovative, but I cannot identify any points of departure from urbanism in the late 90s and that of today - nearly 15 years later.

Other proposals held a great deal of emphasis on the development of infrastructure and the creation of small villages in the areas around Oslo. While I appreciate that these villages took an amount of density, services and public transportation into account, I am not sure that they will lead to anything different from American sprawl.

I cannot help but notice many missed opportunities already existing in Oslo proper which may or may never be addressed. Some friends of mine live near the forest border in the north. Their neighborhood is served by several public bus lines - it is less than a 20 minute ride to the city center, a 5 minute walk to the forest trails, but it is nearly 15 minutes walk to the nearest grocery store. There are many preschools, some sports fields, but not a single cafe or restaurant. The address is Oslo, but the lifestyle quickly becomes that of a suburb - cars seem more useful than the buses and both vehicles in mass compete dangerously with bicyclists, skaters, and joggers along the one major traffic route that has never held a sidewalk.

The new village development plans shown in the exhibition hope to address such concerns for new neighborhoods, but what will happen to the current ones? Rather than maps of transportation corridors and ring roads and walking distance to train stations, I think it might be a good time to think about a different scale. It would likely paint an amazingly unsustainable picture if we looked at Oslo from the current location of other services to population density. How far must people commute to work, yes, but also how far must people commute to the grocery store? If we want to densify Oslo, part of the solution should be including all the services that draw people to, and support them within, a place. Allow and encourage the elements that draw people to new developments in the existing ones - if we can make more people want to live in existing neighborhoods then density will come on its own. In my opinion it would promote healthier growth to add a post office, cafe, and market to an existing residential neighborhood and let the next farm over contribute to the food supply instead of the residential footprint of the city.

Oslo's Almost Pedestrian Street

I took my bicycle out to run some errands today. It is the beginning of January and I am in Oslo, but don't imagine that I was braving a blizzard with ice pegs on my tires (I will never be Norwegian enough for this). It has been a surprisingly mild winter this year; a couple icy spots are left over undrained puddles, but  I was more than warm and safe enough to take on the environment after donning just a wool shirt, down vest, and lined leather gloves.

The bizarre part of this story began when, having the luxury of time, I decided to try taking actual bike lanes home. Oslo is not known for being bike-able and it seems to have a surprisingly long way to go compared to other Scandinavian capitals. Drivers are extremely pedestrian careful here, but on a bicycle it is a different story. Bike lanes start and end without reason or warning and cars (and bicyclists) often pretend not to notice their existence. On my (ten minute) detoured ride home, I encountered the following episodes.

 First on Torggata - a street which this year received almost all the makings of a great pedestrian way - I found myself having to swerve twice around the same car who was apparently attempting a three-point U-turn or two and backing up parking-spot-seeking-traffic in several directions. Watching the timid 'pedestrianization' moves of the eastern half of Torggata has been rather excruciating. A few steps forward resulting in several steps back. The two ends of the stretch have been blocked off with bollards and markings for bicycle lanes, but the several blocks between this are basically open to traffic from side streets, loading and parking in particular. If you have ever been a pedestrian or bicyclist walking in a shopping street or parking lot, you may understand how uncomfortable (and actually dangerous) it is to be unsuspectingly adjacent to cars and trucks in the midst of parking maneuvers. Either there is a phase not yet implemented in this project, or this confusing-to-all result has entirely escaped the attention of the street's planners.

Torggata street end "closure" to car traffic, looks like a bike lane.

Pedestrian use of Torggata this summer.

Great pedestrian street elements and... parking?!

Continuing on my bicycle after this street I was continually surprised - turning onto streets that I was certain held bike lanes only to find that the end of the street where I had entered the street indeed did not. At one point  in the middle of a bridge's car lane, I had to challenge a pedestrian carrying a guitar case for position  because the sidewalks were apparently slippery. Finally, on the home stretch I was preparing to take a left onto the last marked bike lane home and I encountered two police women on horseback wearing hijab under reflective safety vests - why didn't I have my camera with me?!

So if I was a bit confused about bicycle etiquette in Oslo before, I was then at a complete loss of how to share the bicycle lane with horses. Instead of attempting to use it and pass them, I remained on the wrong side of the street and defeated-ly rode the final length on the sidewalk. People often ask me what I miss from living in New York, and they probably expect a whole host of answers. My typical (automatic) response is food related, but these days I really wish Oslo had a RideTheCity website!

Learning Landscape - 1

Having moved to Norway nearly two years ago, I've been noticing subtle differences in the (physical, natural and planned) landscape - from topography to plant species. Now realizing the need for a more structured study of such phenomena (if I am to work in landscape architecture here), I will turn some of my blogging to this focus.

Starting with a reflection on some photos - unstructured observations over the past year in Oslo, which I will attempt here to structure into the following categories: what nature has planted in the forest and on the islands/coast surrounding the city, then what people shop atthe market and plant within the city.

For now, Nature - forest:

The forest plays a huge role in the lives and culture of Norwegians - even here in the city. Each weekend or evening day of good (and sometimes bad) weather, people flock by public transit and autos to the many entry points to the 300 (+) square kilometers of forest that surrounds the city (Oslomarka). In the winter, ski trails abound under conifers punctuated by busy "hytta" 's selling sausages, waffles and coffee. In the summer, more trails appear for hikers and mountain bikers, ponds thaw for swimming and fishing. Plants here are layered, from framing dramatic scenes over the fjord, then entering species-specific groves and finding a multitude of smaller flowering plants tucked into the brush surrounding paths and creeks.

The city forests are one locale in Norway where people greet strangers happily - society coming together to mutual enjoy and benefit from the health provided by nature. The proximity of this resource may be the most incredible aspect of Oslo - one can go from a hip downtown cafe (sipping 6$ coffee) to stumbling over moose droppings in about 20 to 30 minutes using the local subway or bus lines.

In the meantime I play to try keeping tabs on both the downtown flower market and the local botanical garden to see what's in bloom through the seasons. This will require a bit more discipline in scheduling on my part.

A narrative

Trying something a little different here, comments welcome - am keeping my eyes open for an outlet where I might be able to publish this/later work.. 

It has been a few weeks now since I moved here - to Oslo, to Tøyen. At the grocery store (the larger option in the neighborhood boasting lower prices) the woman in line in front of me wears a burqa. It is a common sight here and I am getting used to it, but I cannot help myself from wondering about her. Where is she from, how long has she been in Norway, does she speak the language, what will she be making for dinner? The differences between us seem accentuated by this one, highly symbolic piece of clothing. We leave the store with our bags and walk in the same direction for a bit, until she turns down a street consistently peppered with various others donning hijab and headscarves. I continue to my own rented apartment.

At my front door, I greet my neighbor on his way out but still in his business-casual dress from the workday. Our building is an old one - solid, possessing character. The apartments inside have been recently renovated to achieve a clean and modern look - energy saving appliances and all. When I take out the trash in the evenings, I must unlock a massive gate leading to the courtyard - a modestly sized space with potted plants and views to greener neighboring lawns. A small table and some potted plants render asphalt plot as cozy. From this space I have coffee and waffles and watch more neighbors come and go. I cannot but acknowledge that we are all the same - young professionals seeking reasonable rent and comfortable rooms. There are no burqas or bright headscarves in my building.

I remember back to the realtor's showing of my apartment. We had arrived a little late and there was a room full of visitors who were just leaving. My boyfriend was the only native Norwegian entering a room that well displayed the diversity that the city of Oslo hosts. Tøyen after all, is known for being multicultural - and for having cheap rent compared to similarly central neighborhoods. The well dressed realtor did little to hide his eagerness to speak to us, and it was shortly after the door closed on the last other visitor that we were informally offered the apartment. This approach was not overly surprising - we had sensed similar interest at previous showings and had already turned down one apartment despite the tight market. It seemed to follow as we are a clean, polite young couple with good educations, a steady income, and the added benefit of northern European genes. 

A week after accepting the apartment we read in the local newspaper that young adults from minority backgrounds and students are having excessive difficulties in the rental market. I think back to our visits to other apartments and realize that our demographic is the competition in this market. Not yet established enough to buy, still saving and unwilling to spend too much on rent thereby drawn into neighborhoods characterized by increasing disparity and change. I think again of the woman in the burqa and my architect's mind is drawn to the long block of lesser kept modernist housing where she turned. Those blocks have few balconies and no coutyards - that era of Oslo housing in these parts focused on function - quantity over quality. I do not know how big or light her apartment is, or when it was last renovated. It is certain that, unlike the pattern of residents found in my building, those of neighboring buildings are not all the same. Only a few blocks separate us, we are one community yet we share little beyond the sidewalks and buried infrastructure.

Going back to the gate on my building's courtyard, I wonder why it is locked. Why are other members of the community invited to share 'our' communal space? I walk down local streets where the only trees and greenery to be glimpsed is tucked behind other buildings, locked within large gates, buried in courtyards. While I appreciate that my back window has a view of some trees, I fear that it is unfair to the rest of the community. Some others have no yards by their homes; others have more beautiful ones than mine. I pay more and more attention to the individual people in my community and I wonder just how different are our parallel and adjacent lives. 

Mostly, I am quiet in public though I make a point of smiling to the people I pass on my street. At our subway stop, diverse visitors and tourists often ask me for directions - I respond to them as best I can. In stores, I greet shopkeepers and rehearse well practiced phrases hoping not to be caught off-guard with questions outside of the routine. Even though I too, am shut out of the locked courtyards in the district of Gamle Oslo, I feel somehow integrated into this disconnected community. By all outside appearances having fair skin and blue eyes I am typically mistaken for Norwegian, but - as is revealed by the color of my passport and my difficulty pronouncing ø, æ, and å's in conversation - in actuality, I am just another immigrant here.