In May, I was back in the city of my birth, Chicago. With a metro area population of 9.5 million people, the third biggest in the USA, Chicago is a real city. It has a large and dense urban core, filled with businesses, residential areas, and all the wonderful things associated with a great city. It's the only other place in the United States, in my opinion, to have a similar big-city feeling as New York City. It's a city that's easy to walk around in, and in the center at least, public transport is quite convenient.  

I hadn't spent any significant amount of time in Chicago since the late 1980s. It was a nostalgic experience to revisit old haunts (my childhood neighborhood is virtually unchanged) and a surprise to see how many areas of the city have positively evolved over the nearly 30 years since I left it.  I found it exhilarating, often beautiful, lively, and on the whole a place in which I imagine it would be interesting to live.
 
With Chicago, I took my usual approach of getting off the beaten path. To me, understanding a city does not come from visiting its museums or famous tourist sites. Instead it's essential to visit a range of neighborhoods, across ethnic and socioeconomic lines. My wanderings revealed a city more complex than the image a casual tourist might bring home.

While in the Chicago area, I was lucky enough to stay with my very kind sister and her husband, who live in the western suburb of Elmhurst. I always rely on public transport, bicycle or walking to get around a city, and from my suburban base, I stuck to my normal procedure. Every day I took a suburban bus to the beginning of Chicago's elevated metro system. Although there are commuter trains from Elmhurst that go to the city center, I took the bus, as that stopped conveniently in front of my sister's house and took me not to the business center, but instead to the edge of the city. This was a perfect starting point for seeing the many faces of Chicago.

Each of my multiple trips into the city focused on in-depth walks through particular neighborhoods. Over two weeks I visited Hyde Park, Washington Park, and Chinatown in the south, Garfield Park, Humboldt Park, Wicker Park and the Near West Side in the west, Norwood Park, North Park, Andersonville and Lincoln Park in the north, and the Near North Side and Loop in the center. These neighborhoods differed greatly from one another structurally, architecturally, ethnically and socioeconomically. I believe they give a representative view of life in the city, skewed somewhat to higher socioeconomic groups. 

A particularly striking thing about my journey into the city every day from Elmhurst, an upper-middle-class older suburb, were the quick transitions I experienced from an almost idealized American suburban scene to poorer suburbs and then the very poor west side of the city of Chicago itself. To get to the beginning of Chicago's metro train system, I took the suburban PACE bus, which passed my sister's home every hour or so, for the nearly 30 minute ride to Oak Park, the last suburb before the city of Chicago begins. My first ride on the bus was an educational experience.  Although my sister's town has an African American population of under one percent, the demographics of Pace bus riders was the complete opposite. I was normally the only person of European descent on the bus, and almost all the other passengers were black Americans. It was an unreal experience to be riding through wealthy, white suburbs and see only black Americans at each bus stop. This reminds me of the buses going through wealthy suburbs of Johannesburg. 

Although the Chicago area appears to have a comprehensive public transport system, in comparison with other wealthy metro areas I've lived in or visited, Chicago's system is a disappointment.  When I investigated the time it takes to get from Elmhurst to parts of Chicago other than the very downtown core, I was astounded. To get from my sister's house in Elmhurst, an inner suburb west of the city, to the neighborhood of North Park, on the north side of Chicago, it takes about 45 minutes by car. To go by bicycle takes about 2 hours. With public transit, if you make the right connections, it would also take two hours. This for a distance that, as the crow flies, can't be much more than 10 miles.  I've never seen anything like it in any major city in the developed world (outside of the United States, that is). I calculated trips of a similar distance in Tokyo and Berlin (from a suburban town on a main train line into the center and then to another neighborhood in the city) and here's what I found: in Tokyo a similar trip would take 40 minutes by car and 38 minutes by public transport.  In Berlin, it would be 34 minutes by car and 42 minutes by public transport. With an inadequate system like this, only the poorest, those without cars, would ever choose to use public transport to go anywhere other than the downtown core in Chicago. With freeways and free or highly subsidized parking in many parts of the city, driving is a no brainer in Chicago. Highways in Tokyo have tolls and in both Berlin and Tokyo, parking can get expensive quickly, so you really have a disincentive to drive and save little or no time by doing it.

Below are some views of the rather antiquated metro system.  

Every day, as I entered Chicago on the elevated train system from Oak Park, I felt immersed in forlorn scenes of urban decay. The far west side of Chicago is bleak. 

This is a very poor area with, I believe, a predominantly black and Hispanic population. Infrastructure has obviously been neglected for years (decades) and housing generally appears often on the point of collapse. I have not found corresponding areas of blight, such as you see in an American city like Chicago, in any other wealthy country.

I imagine that this area was once, maybe over 60 years ago, a working-class neighborhood of European immigrants, Today the once dense and probably lively neighborhoods seem depopulated and abandoned. I tried to imagine what these streets might have been like in their heyday. I wondered what could have gone so wrong to produce a fantastic crash in neighborhood vitality and health. White flight is one part of the explanation, but it's hard to avoid wondering how city government could have let things fall to such a state of degeneration. Did they have no resources?

A key characteristic of these desolate neighborhoods is the huge number of vacant lots where apartment buildings and houses once stood. It puzzled me to think about the incredible waste of what should be valuable land. The areas I visited on the West Side are less than 30 minutes from downtown Chicago by public transport, yet they are really a virtual wasteland. 

The layout of the streets, however, and even the style of the remaining buildings is often very pleasant. The streets are generally tree lined and the old brick buildings could be attractive, even elegant, if rehabilitated. But the empty lots, boarded up windows and shamefully run-down infrastructure - in conjunction with what are almost certainly pretty horrific social circumstances - make for an insurmountable barrier to revitalization. This area will probably remain a kind of no-man's land for decades to come. I should mention that these neighborhoods are generally well served by large parks which, sadly, are also derelict. 

Here are some more street views from the west side of the city. 

Evidence of neglected city infrastructure surrounds you in the poorer neighborhoods of Chicago. This is a common feature, of course, of large areas of many American cities. Sidewalks are cracked and uneven, streets are rough, and maintenance of public spaces, such as parks, is deplorable. It all adds up to a kind of depressing bleakness. I can't help but wonder what impact an urban environment like this has on the psychology, and aesthetic development, of children. There is so little beauty, so few examples of excellence that might raise aspirations. 

The most frustrating part of it, for me, is that the basic elements required for a beautiful city are here. It's not as if these neighborhoods are cursed structurally. There are green medians planted with trees, streets with ample space for bike lanes, expansive parks all around, and even reasonable public rail transport within walking distance. What's missing is security, decent maintenance and, most importantly, quality housing at the density required to bring the streets to life. Could the problem be that the city simply doesn't need more affordable housing and hence can ignore large swathes of its area? 

In many parts of the world, the physical endowments of these blighted neighborhoods would be envied. What wouldn't be envied is the catastrophic social disaster that seems to be taking place here. America's cities are a reflection of its society, and the reflection is a pretty awful one.   

Scenes of decay, below.

I started this posting with what struck me most forcefully upon my return to Chicago: the glaring urban maladies the city faces in many areas. But there is another side of Chicago, one that gradually emerges out of the vast areas of unsightliness, that is vibrant, beautiful and, improving markedly. 

Chicago is a city known for, and blessed with, excellent architecture. Certain areas can have the elegant feeling of nice neighborhoods in European cities, with lovely brick buildings that seem to have been built with high-quality materials and care. I imagine that many of them were, in fact, built by European immigrants around a century ago and they continue to be the domain of the better off in the city, with a high proportion of white residents. It's been very encouraging to see the most beautiful of Chicago's neighborhoods undergoing a revitalization. Many young people are settling in the city and bringing vitality back to once great neighborhoods. 

A surprise to me was that new housing in Chicago is frequently built in the old, beautiful styles of the past (see the far right picture below). Neighborhoods are retaining their original character and because of the beauty and detail of the older style of buildings, the streets are regaining a density of attracive detail that draws in people who come to just to stroll and enjoy the ambience. The streetscapes are an attraction in themselves.

Below are a few shots of the beautiful buildings and streets in Chicago.

Along with the rejuvenation of great residential neighborhoods in Chicago comes a rebirth of commercial streets. 

Better neighborhoods in the city now are full of a wide range of restaurants, stores, and other businesses that put them on par, in terms of commercial life, with streets in a city like Amsterdam. 

Where the streets don't match up to what's on offer in a great city like Amsterdam is in their dispoportionate allocation of space to auto traffic and parking for cars. The streetscapes of Chicago are dominated by cars. There are few dedicated bicycle lanes (I saw almost none), and sidewalks are narrower than they should be. In fact, sidewalks here are unattractively made of poured concrete and offer almost no interesting details to draw pedestrians in. They create few meeting spaces for people (there are few benches and quiet nooks), and they provide very limited space for restaurants and cafes to use for outdoor seating. This makes the streets of the nicer neighborhoods of Chicago, in general, much less lively and attractive than those of Amsterdam and other great cities of Europe. Chicago needs to put pedestrians first to get its streets right. 

In my opinion, a lower density of detail is what often sets American cities apart. It's a function, to a great degree, of the auto dominated landscape. If you're passing through quickly in your car, the small details don't matter. If you're walking, however, the details make all the difference in a street experience. Because of America's car-centric culture, sidewalks and other pedestrian areas have gotten short shrift. We don't invest in them because we don't walk. It seems the emphasis is on quick, cheap, easy-to-maintain pedestrian areas that are devoid of artistry and charm.

Below are a couple of fairly pleasing street scenes in Chicago.

In the richest suburbs and wealthier part of American cities, street design can sometimes rise to a high level. The picture to the left is from the business district of Oak Park, an old suburb directly abutting Chicago's West Side. 

The examples of beautiful streetscapes are, however, the exception. What would be the average standard in cities in most of the rest of the rich world are in America the domain of the wealthy. 

Extraordinaly high income and wealth inequality in America, in conjunction with an auto-dominated transport mentality, leads to cities that are largely unattractive and often jarringly ugly. 

I'm thrilled that many areas of Chicago are moving in the direction of complex, detail-rich, pedestrian-oriented streets. But I'm afraid that the beautiful streetscapes I've seen here are going to remain the realm of the the privileged. 

Taking in the view on the balcony of my friends' home in the Castro district of San Francisco (picture, left), it's hard to imagine a better city to be in the world. There are the hills, the fresh air, and the lovingly maintained gardens in the back of most of the neighboring buildings. It's simply beautiful.  

There are few cities where I feel as good and at home as San Francisco.  The city justifiably has important symbolic value throughout the world as a bastion of individual freedom and human dignity, and this is undeniably a desirable feature of life in this area.  The Bay Area, San Francisco's region, is my favorite part of the United States.  I lived in the East Bay (Berkeley) over 10 years ago while in grad school, and I never forgot the unique feel to this area.  The climate is mild, the vegetation is Mediterranean, the people are generally tolerant and open-minded, and there's simply a spontaneity and sense of possibility in the air here. Most residents wouldn't think of living anywhere else. 

From another height, looking out over the city from one of its rocky hilltops, it would be easy to idealize this city and imagine it as one of the most sophisticated and livable in the world. San Francisco, however, is usually experienced at ground level, and the experience here strays from any idealization of that sort. 

This city is no earthly paradise, although it has an incredible charm and many attractive attributes.  But its global reputation and image are bound to disappoint on closer examination, as many foreign visitors have told me.  This extremely expensive city has seriously rough edges that drag down its quality of life in multiple ways. Despite being virtually the wealthiest large city in the United States, it often has a ramshackle, dirty and run-down look to it.  This shabby appearance comes as a surprise to many visitors from abroad who expect more from this legendary city.  In fact, in the face of incredible natural advantages, a highly educated population and wealth, it settles for a second-rate quality of life for the bulk of its inhabitants.  Yes, I did say San Francisco has a second-rate quality of urban life.  In this blog posting I will explain my view.  Brace yourself as I dig further into the pathologies of American cities. 

But first a little glimpse of beauty from this city (it is rich in beauty like this), to highlight the shame of allowing so much of it to be so mediocre.

There are four outstanding things I will focus on, common to American cities, that stand in the way of San Francisco reaching its very high potential. They are poor infrastructure, lack of human scale, autocentric design, and immense social problems.  

The American Society of Civil Engineers, in their 2013 Report Card for America's Infrastructure, gave the United States an overall grade of D+ for its crumbling infrastructure.  This is close to a total failure.    
I am rather astounded at the general public's apathy in the face of our country’s shamefully ill-maintained infrastructure.  I'd expect outrage, really. Perhaps Americans have gotten used to this state of affairs, and don't know what quality public infrastructure looks like in other wealthy countries around the world.

This rough infrastructure is, in fact, one of the things most characteristic of American cities.  San Francisco is no exception, and a walk around this city can be a big surprise to visitors from northern Europe, Japan or Australia. Things are simply not well maintained, or maintained in a manner fitting a poor, developing world city, not one of the wealthiest and potentially most beautiful cities in the world.  Sidewalks and streets are haphazardly patched, public transport is rough, and city parks are often in poor condition.  

The poor infrastructure of this city is highlighted by the liberal use of cement, frosting all surfaces often without leaving any space for trees and vegetation or other features.  Although San Francisco is politically 'green', the city itself is in desperate need of more trees.  SF ranks 17th of the 20 largest cities in the US in terms of its urban forest and in terms of street trees, I'm sure it must be at the absolute bottom.  Many, if not most, streets of San Francisco are uninviting urban deserts, despite enjoying an exceptionally good climate.  Below are a sampling of San Francisco's cement-covered and lifeless streets.  

Streets in San Francisco, like those in most other American cities, are often exceptionally wide.  Their breadth is totally out of proportion to the height of the buildings that run along them, making for unattractive and often very uninviting streetscapes. Streets seem to be simply thought of as corridors for mobility. Other functions of streets, as public space, for example, are just an afterthought.  

For most of the world's urban history, cities and streets were built on a human scale.  Streets in older cities around the world tend to be relatively narrow, and these streets seem in scale with the buildings that line them.  Americans seem to have forgotten what makes for exciting, engaging and beautiful streets.  The key is a profound sense of humanity in design. This is quickly recognizable.  Streets and public spaces designed with humanity attract people, not just passers-through, but people who stay for extended periods of time.

Exacerbating the scale issue in San Francisco is what I call a low density of detail in many areas, making streetscapes unappealing and unengaging. Great streets have many details, complex details, providing many reasons to stop and do something, if it only be to sit on a comfortable bench and admire the fine paving stones and beautiful landscaping.  This density of features can be called 'friction'.  Streets with friction are destinations in and of themselves, places you go to do many things at once (without having to get in your car and go elsewhere) and places that bring people together.  San Francisco has many streets like this (for example, Dolores and Mission Streets), of course, but far too many of its streets are rather lifeless.   This is a shame, as open spaces in cities are opportunities for the common good and streets are generally the most common open spaces citizens have to enjoy.  Streets should be the most important public spaces in a city.

Its easy to see when a street has become a successful public place because it will attract people.  Streets that are unsuccessful have few people and are lifeless.  Naturally, cities need a full range of street types (including quiet residential streets), but San Francisco has vast wasted street spaces that could instead be alive with street life and business opportunities.  

Market Street is emblematic of what's wrong with many of San Francisco's streets.  It is a low density, extremely wide expanse of cement and asphalt, with generally very low friction (except in the heart of downtown and near Castro Street).  I would never want to spend time on most of it.  It is ugly, a haven for San Francisco's homeless and really a showcase of the city's social problems.   

Maybe I should applaud SF for not hiding America's reality of haves and have nots, but still, Market Street is generally not a pleasant place to be, despite its key location running from downtown to the Castro.  It should be San Francisco's most vibrant and attractive street, without excuses.  

A main driver of the scale problem in San Francisco is the autocentric design of its streetscapes.  

In American cities, people on opposite sides of a street are usually separated by wide swathes of fast-moving traffic.  Cars, and space dedicated to cars, eat up the bulk of the open space streets provide, Streets are not primarily thought of as places for people to gather and do things, but instead as spaces to facilitate the rapid movement of automobile traffic.   

In San Francisco, the car-dominated street design spreads over into the design of sidewalks and buildings to an extent that I have not seen in any other densely populated American city.  Despite having decent public transportation within the city (decent, not great), a high proportion of residents of San Francisco have cars and use them to commute, particularly if they work outside of the city.  Regional public transit in the Bay Area is inconvenient and expensive.        

This reliance on auto transport created a problem:  where to park all the cars in this densely packed city. The solution was to build housing with garages on the first floor, in addition to allocating much street space for car parking.  A distinctive feature of San Francisco, therefore, is the garage doors facing the streets throughout much of the city, as you can see in the picture above.  This proliferation of garages along the city's streets drastically distorts the function of the city's streets by creating dead zones along sidewalks.  There is no space for shops or cafes,  The streets are bare of trees and vegetation because cars cannot leave garages if trees are planted along the street.  The result is an abundance of lifeless and treeless streets that are wholly unattractive and serve no social function.        

Allowing car owners to dominate so much of a city's open space is not only detrimental to urban livability, the use of this space by cars costs a city money.  A study from Connecticut shows how much allocating and subsidizing parking spots actually costs a city (in the case of Hartford, it comes to about $1,200/year per parking place).  In San Francisco's case, as sidewalk and street space in front of the endless garages cannot be utilized for anything else, there is a huge hidden subsidy that must be considered beyond the subsidized street parking the city provides.  

Finally, San Francisco shares the American problem of vast, inadequately addressed social problems.  Visitors to San Francisco will quickly note the huge numbers of homeless people on the city's streets.  

Riding public transport is another way to come into contact with large numbers of people with serious problems.  You simply don't see this kind of thing, on this scale, in other wealthy countries. Crime is also higher than it is in most of Europe, Canada, Australia or Japan. 

San Francisco has, it must be said, a very racially and economically diverse population.  The varied groups have different needs and interests, and the national and local governments have not been very skillful at managing the situation, resulting in severe problems such as homelessness.   

What I write about San Francisco may seem harsh and clearly, to some extent, stems from my frustration with the same sorts of problems I see in every American city I visit. The solutions seem so obvious to an outsider, but they are never simple.  San Francisco, in particular, pains me because the city so obviously has many of the ingredients required to make it one of the great cities of the world.  It is surrounded by natural beauty, is a welcoming and accepting place, has a very vibrant city culture by any measure, including a remarkable food scene.

Some tweaks to the system are underway that will make San Francisco a better city. 

For example, an organization called 'Friends of the Urban Forest' (FOF) is helping city residents convert some of that great expanse of concrete in front of their homes into gardens and tree planting spaces. (See picture to right) My friends Buddy and Orie (whose veranda is featured in the first photo of this blog posting) have just participated in a project in their neighborhood with FOF.  The results are wonderful. However, like much of the urban improvements going on in San Francisco, projects like this tend to be driven by the educated and wealthy, and are not benefiting all areas equally.  I rarely saw urban greening projects in the poorer parts of town.  

Another encouraging sign is that the generally rather dreadful Market Street, which I write about above, is undergoing massive development now that will no doubt clean it up and restore some of its traditional role as one of the great streets of San Francisco. New high rises are popping up along several areas of the street, and new shopping and commercial development will follow to bring life back to this area.  

Finally, I've just read that a law involved with major urban planning projects is changing in California to be less car friendly.  This will allow for public transit projects to get approval more easily and speed up developments such as San Francisco's new bus rapid transit line.    

When I look at my pictures from San Francisco, I really miss this city and my good friends there.  I'm hopeful that San Francisco will tackle its quality of life issues and move towards a respectable position in the group of the world's most livable cities.   It has a long way to go.  

I spent the month of March in the lush, green and rather beautiful city of Portland, Oregon. Portland will serve as my entry point into American cities on this trip to the USA.  I chose to visit it because of its almost legendary status among urban planners. 

Soon after arrival I recognized how unique this city is in the United States. Portland capitalizes on its assets in a way that creates a flourishing and very livable city - the best I've seen in any major US city.  It offers a vision of what a medium-sized American city can be with the right policies, planning, and execution.  It's a world apart from the typical American city, both in its well-designed urban environment and its stunning natural surroundings. 

Portland's differences, however, go beyond its great urban design and rich nature. There is a major demographic difference here.

I flew to Portland from San Francisco and upon entering the airplane immediately noted something odd.  As far as I could see, there were only Caucasians on the plane. The impression of a relatively homogeneous population was supported by what I saw in the center of the city.  It certainly seemed to be a very white city. In fact, Portland's population is 74% white, the highest of any major city in the United States. By comparison, only 45% of San Francisco's population is white.  (See core city populations in chart at right.)  

As the cities in the United States with the highest livability rankings all tend to have large white (or in the case of Honolulu, Asian) populations, this is a significant point to grasp when struggling to understand America's urban problems and blight.   It illustrates the continuing damage America's history of slavery, racism, segregation and unwillingness to effectively deal with social problems has wrought in those cities with large non-white populations.  I will write more about this in a subsequent posting.

I came to learn that Portland's relatively few non-white inhabitants (both blacks and Hispanics) have gradually been pushed to the edge of the city, far away from many of the things that make Portland such a livable city, due to gentrification.  I stayed in what had previously been an African American neighborhood in NE Portland (Irvington), but today there are relatively few black Americans living there.  I became friends with one of my neighbors, Susan, and her good friend Ed, a homeless African American who sometimes sleeps on Susan's porch.  They told me about a pervasive, if not overt, racism that exists in this supposedly very progressive town.  Ed's life story was probably not atypical for a black American man.  From the start he had no advantages and faced multiple hardships.  It's amazing to me that he still has an optimistic life view.  

I felt it important to bring Portland's demographics to the fore because they may help explain its unique character.  

It is a strikingly clean city, with innovative street design, excellent public transport, an enviable food scene, and a large population of active bicyclists.  

It is also a city of vibrant and lively local neighborhoods.  I found its many independent coffee shops to be an excellent indicator of an active and vital community. These local coffee shops provide social and work spaces where people can interact, and these interactions extend out into the sidewalks and streets. They are important social hubs that tie neighborhoods and the city together.  

For a city of low diversity, Portland also has an amazing range of ethnic foods and overall a food (and beer) scene considered to be one of the best in the United States.

Typical neighborhoods in Portland are impressive, and really seem almost suburban. Beautiful homes are the norm, with large lush gardens surrounding them. In this respect, living standards appear to be very high in Portland, and would vie with those in the richest countries around the world.  

The vast majority of streets are lined with trees, and there is almost always a planting strip, or green right of way, between the sidewalk and the street that is planted with trees, bushes, flowers and grass.  A planted right of way is rather common in American cities. What is not common is the exuberance of vegetation (this is a moist and temperate climate) and the high number of plant species that are grown around houses.  As you can see in the picture to the right, this typical Portland street does not show large lawns, but instead a variety of vegetation and high species diversity.  This is a city where gardening is taken seriously and front yards are really more like gardens.  

See some typical Portland streets scenes below.  

In terms of public green space, Portland has among the most public park space per person of any major city in the US. In a recent study, it ranked 5th in the US, after cities such as Raleigh, NC and Lincoln, NE.  And even without the public parks, the city's large yards and private green spaces keep you enveloped in green at almost all times. It's hard to get away from it, except in the very core of the city.

Portland also stands apart in its innovative street design in many areas.  Like most American cities, sidewalks here are generally artlessly covered with cement, and streets are often rather roughly covered with asphalt (and are very often in need of repair).   

But there are signs that Portland is trying to do things a bit differently.  To the right you can see a picture of a swale, an area designed to absorb rainwater runoff from the street and keep it from overwhelming sewers.  You find these all over the city, planted with species that like water.  

There are also a variety of curb extensions (often at corners) that make pedestrians more visible to traffic, make street crossing distances shorter, and also slow traffic to improve safety.   

Traffic is also slowed in some neighborhoods with features such as speed bumps and mini-roundabouts (often with very nice plantings within).

Below you can see a few pedestrian surfaces that break with the generally bleak cement pedestrian landscape.  

Wherever I go I rely on public transportation (or bicycle or foot) to get around, and immediately upon arrival in Portland, I experienced the seamless transition from the airport terminal to the region's light-rail system.  I felt as if I were in a northern European city with the well-designed system quickly and quietly taking me to the center of the city, often through beautifully green neighborhoods.   

I continued to use Portland's buses and trains on nearly a daily basis.  For an American city with a relatively low population density, Portland has rather excellent public transportation. It's not at all unpleasant to use and it's often possible to get to even marginal areas of the city with only one transfer.  Buses and trains are clean and well-maintained.  

The city's investment in light rail transport has, according to studies, helped the city retain its core population better than cities that didn't create light rail systems. But contrary to my expectations, and despite the obvious huge investments the city and region have made, the percentage of commuters using public transport in Portland has actually decreased over the last 30 years.  Cars have become more and more dominant. See research here. 

The underlying problem is that driving is still heavily subsidized here as elsewhere in US.  Gasoline taxes do not cover the cost of building and maintaining roads.  Parking, even when there is a charge, is also usually heavily subsidized. There are few disincentives to drive.  This is where Portland and other US cities differ greatly from cities in most other developed nations. American cities make driving far too attractive and hence steer people away from public transport. Some might say that if driving is the preferred form of transport for city dwellers, why not subsidize it?  The problem is that car-centric cities are less attractive and healthy places to live.  Automobile dependence undermines the development of cities built on a human scale, places that are pedestrian friendly, where walking is easy, and where local community life thrives.  It's interesting to note that the most walkable areas of US cities, those areas most similar to older cities in Europe, are generally the most sought after and expensive. What's more, car dependence is unsustainable and is adding to environmental problems, such as air pollution and smog.    

Portland may have one of the highest livability rankings of any American city, but it still clearly exhibits why US cities lag behind their wealthy counterparts in other parts of the world. The problem is inconsistency and unevenness.  The city's fantastic attributes are often not nicely tied together and some areas and some details are jarringly unattractive.  

The problems, as above, often go back to the automobile. The domination of the landscape by automobile infrastructure robs it of human scale, creating many central sectors where pedestrians (and pedestrian associated businesses and features) are rare.  Highways bisect the city and create vast zones along their edges that are cut off from areas on the other side.  These areas are generally undesirable places to live. Motor vehicle infrastructure also deprives vast areas of the center of development.  I saw extensive empty spaces, very centrally located, that could provide land for development.  But I don't imagine anyone would want to develop property beneath or adjacent to a highway overpass.    

The picture above shows the almost completely lifeless (with the exception of auto traffic) east bank area of Portland. There are virtually no shops, no restaurants, and no housing.  There is no reason to come to this place except to pass through by car, although it has some of the best views of downtown Portland.  This barren no-mans-land seals the eastern side of the city off from the river and the promenade that runs along it.  I find it hard to grasp how anyone envisioned or approved such an incredible destruction of potentially highly valuable space right at the city's core.      

You can see more pictures from this area below.  

Another telltale sign of the American city is the ubiquitous parking lots on vacant land in city centers and surrounding shopping centers and other businesses and institutions. Prime downtown areas of most American cities, including Portland, have barren parking lots, even on corners of major intersections as in the picture at the left.  

Everywhere I went in Portland, I was met with parking lots, whether it be on vacant central city lots, in front of unsightly strip malls, or in immense proportions surrounding malls, office towers or institutions such as hospitals. The parking lots are dead zones in the city, and break up the texture of downtown and other areas. They break the flow of pedestrians walking between businesses.  See more examples below.

Portland, I should mention, has made one significant improvement to parking lot blight.  In certain central city areas, these parking lots are surrounded by the city's excellent food carts.  These food carts bring life and vibrancy back to these areas. 

Another thing that catches my attention (and probably anyone coming from Europe or East Asia) would be the extraordinarily broad areas smothered, really, with a coat of asphalt. Streets in Portland are incredibly wide, and vast areas, particularly at intersections, are large enough to house sizable sporting facilities such as tennis or basketball courts. There is a huge amount of not only wasted, but possibly permanently destroyed land, in this city.  Once again, the desire to give a majority of the city's public space to automobiles brings unappealing results.  The vastness of these streets takes away charm from neighborhoods, encourages cars to drive faster, and in hot sunny weather, must create a strong heat-island effect. You can see some examples of Portland's remarkably wide streets below.  

I should also mention here that although sidewalks are not allocated a particularly generous amount of space, they are likewise generally covered rather artlessly with a non-permeable frosting of absolutely unadorned cement.     

Portland is renowned in the United States as a kind of bicyclist's paradise. Having lived in the Netherlands, Germany and Japan, I found the bicycle infrastructure, like much else in the city, not up to the highest international standards. In fact, I believe that riding a bicycle in Portland can often be quite intimidating.  

This will come as a surprise to many bicyclists in Portland, who I think live in a bit of a bubble (without exposure to cities with far better biking infrastructure). 

In this city, bicycles generally share the streets with cars, with no marked bicycle lanes on most streets. I am aware that some people believe this state of affairs is actually better and safer.  But for children, the elderly, and those not particularly comfortable riding bicycles (like new riders), the major streets are intimidating. In the center of the city and along some main thoroughfares there are rather poorly marked bicycle lanes, but they are incomplete and confusing.  

These bike lanes are intimidating for most potential users because they are not well demarcated and not fully separated from traffic. In the downtown area, bicyclists share the crowded city streets with fast-moving traffic.  With the incredibly wide streets this city has, why can't dedicated and separated bike lanes be added at least to major thoroughfares?  Portland prides itself on being a bike-friendly city, but the enthusiasm for biking is not, as far as I can see, based upon excellent biking infrastructure.  There are, certainly, better-than-average bike parking areas and many excellent bike shops. But people here simply love to bike and those who bike a lot are apparently comfortable sharing space with automobiles. 

I normally write about the green divide wherever I go.  Portland is no exception in having a green divide and the divide here is driven by the same factors as it is throughout the country.  

Many of the policies that make Portland so attractive to many young people (and not only the young) are similar to those of upscale suburbs. Portland's urban growth boundaries and other regulations raise land prices and render housing less affordable, just as large lot zoning and expensive building codes do in some wealthy suburbs. 

They both contribute to reducing housing affordability for historically disadvantaged communities, and push these people out of the nicer areas. 

Above you can see an unpaved street in the poor, eastern side of Portland.  Houses here are small, often in poor condition, and the surrounding infrastructure is dramatically different from the center of the city.  There are often no sidewalks, streets are in poor condition even when paved, and there are fewer trees planted along the street.   

I started this posting upon arrival in the United States at the end of February of this year.  As my re-entry to American life continued, I decided to hold off on publishing.  Now I retrospectively add it to my blog.  In total, I’ve spent over 3 months in this country, with month-long stays in Portland, Oregon and San Francisco, and shorter stays in Chicago, Columbus, Ohio and New York.  This posting may surprise some Americans, but that’s great.  I want my postings to be provocative and I would love to stir up a bit of controversy. 

Coming back to the USA and its cities always presents me with a perplexing mix of feelings.   There are certain delights, some incredibly alive and exciting neighborhoods, and abundant areas of promise.  On the whole, however, I am left wondering why American cities seem to be so far behind other wealthy cities around the world in terms of physical infrastructure and the attractiveness and liveliness of their streets.  I’m writing about this because I believe we as Americans can and should do far better.  Somehow we have generally forgotten how to grow and sustain great cities, the kind of cities where streets don’t simply serve as corridors for getting from one place to another, but are engaging destinations in themselves.  I recognize that many cities in the US are enjoying a revival, but they have a long way to go to compete with the most livable cities in the world. 

In light of our long history of economic advantage (the US was the world’s wealthiest society for most of the 20th century), American cities should be vibrant places that lead the world in terms of quality of life and beauty.  We’ve decided to settle for something far less.  The majority of American urban environments don’t engage and delight, they don’t respect their vibrant pasts, and very often they feel lifeless, lonely and forlorn.  More importantly, they are environments that perpetuate divisions and social problems.  

There are many ways to evaluate urban environments, such as the methodologies used in livability rankings by firms such as Mercer and the Economist Intelligence Unit.  In my research I focus on my own subjective experience as a pedestrian, cyclist and public transport user in a broad sampling of a given city’s area.  I never drive a car, although I occasionally become a passenger in one.  I don’t gravitate to tourist attractions (what do they really tell you about a city?), but instead try to see the face of urban life across socioeconomic lines through a kind of random sampling and, honestly, aimless wandering.   I think I’ve developed a good nose for sniffing out interesting and representative areas wherever I go.  I try to put my observations into a more objective context through reference to statistics and other information about a city.  My goal is to get closer to understanding how the ‘whole’ of a city comes together and how smoothly it functions for all its inhabitants, especially those at lower income levels.  In fact, as I’ve written before, I believe you can learn far more about a city and society by observing how the lower socioeconomic classes live than by observing how the wealthy live.    

If I’m pressed to come up with a set of characteristics that typify the backwardness of American cities, I would include a combination of poor space utilization, shoddy building construction, a general roughness and sloppiness in terms of infrastructure (and  even institutions), and gross social inequality and its concomitant social problems.  

You can see the poor land utilization in the unsightly parking lots that line streets and often dominate suburbanized city centers.  You can see the shoddiness in new construction that utilizes low-grade materials that are not designed to last and improve with age.  The roughness is clearly evident in the poorly paved streets and sidewalks.  You can experience the backwardness on the generally outdated, unattractive and inconvenient public transportation systems.   Most jarringly, perhaps, you are faced with the astounding social inequality whenever you leave behind the enclaves of the middle class and wealthy, especially when out of the isolating cocoon of an automobile.   The social problems are not impacting merely an isolated fringe.  Statistics on urban crime, health, homelessness and education put American cities into a league of their own in the developed world.  In fact, it is the huge gap between wealthy areas and the rest, combined with auto-centric transport, that most uniquely identifies American cities.

Improving urban quality of life in the US will depend on grappling with our enormous social problems, returning to a more inclusive, equal society, and shifting away from the auto as a primary means of transportation.   Moving away from the auto will allow us to bring our cities back to a human scale. Human-scaled cities accelerate positive social change.   They provide for stronger local communities and increased safety.  With excellent public transport, cities and their regions become better integrated and urban social connectivity rises.  This increase in social connectivity provides new opportunities for the poor and fosters increased civic participation and pride.  This 'reconnectedness' and revitalization, along with increased investment in infrastructure and improved institutions such as schools, will support healing of the damaged social fabric.

When I ask Americans about the problems facing American cities, I quickly realize how foreign my view of American cities is.  Americans are generally proud of their cities and have few suspicions that they suffer in comparison with cities in Europe or other wealthy countries.  Ask a western European, Canadian, Japanese or Australian for their candid opinions on US cities, however, and an array of negative characterizations arise.   Beyond conversational anecdotes, American cities do rather poorly, as I've pointed out, in the most famous international livability rankings.  When considering America's long history of wealth, it’s rather astounding to realize that no American city makes it to the top 20 cities in the world (Honolulu makes it in one ranking) in terms of quality of life, while almost all of Canada’s and Australia’s major cities do. 

Presented with this information, many Americans are defensive.  They are loathe to consider the relatively poor standing of American cities in comparison with their global peers.  Maybe this is because we grew accustomed to seeing ourselves as number one in the world and are uncomfortable with the reality that our position has slipped rather dramatically by so many measures. 

Americans have come to settle for a kind of rough functionality in their cities without focusing on the finer points of city life.  Maybe Americans tend not to notice the details of their cities because they are generally racing through them in their cars.  If they took more time to walk, ride a bicycle, or use public transportation, their views would probably change.  In fact, one of the reasons automobiles may be so popular in the US is not only that they provide the quickest or only means of getting around, but they also provide a relatively safe isolation from the frequently unattractive urban reality they traverse.  

Cities are a reflection of a society's values.  As the US has its own set of values, I don't expect American cities to be replicas of cities in Europe or elsewhere.  But are our values so different from countries such as Canada and Australia that our cities should present such a different face?   Most cities in the US seem downright rough, unpolished and run-down compared to those in their rich-country peers.  Outside of the wealthier neighborhoods and suburbs, streets, highways and sidewalks are in generally poor condition, there are large areas of urban blight with little street life to speak of, and there is poor public transportation to connect the disadvantaged with opportunities in other areas.  Overall it's an aesthetic embarrassment and livability challenge.  The roughness adds stress to the daily life of city dwellers and degrades their quality of life.  What's more, I believe a society's values are also be formed by the nature of its physical environment.  The roughness of American cities is not only a product of the country's social problems, but actively creates and perpetuates these problems.  
This state of affairs is an unnecessary shame, as American cities still have many positive qualities that could be leveraged to create pleasing urban environments.  These qualities include remarkable friendliness, a lot of green space, cultural diversity and economic dynamism.  

At least superficially, American cities have to be among the most friendly and welcoming in the world.  Outside of big eastern cities such as New York (and even there, really), people are not afraid to smile at, or talk with, perfect strangers. This is an important, but maybe undervalued, element of urban quality of life. America, in my experience, is at or near the top in this hard-to-measure attribute.  I find it addictive.  It seems to happen in all sorts of places: a person you pass will say hello, a fellow customer in line will strike up a conversation, or a fellow passenger on a train or bus will ask you a question.  

American cities also tend to have a lot of green, particularly in their residential neighborhoods.  Green right-of-ways are common in most cities, which often support a healthy canopy of street trees.  In denser cities in Europe, this is often not the case. 

Another hallmark of many American cities is incredible diversity.  There are often large ethnic, racial and cultural minorities.  In most major cities there is no longer a white majority.  This diversity creates a dynamic social atmosphere full of all sorts of surprises including a huge range of authentic ethnic restaurants. I believe it's rather easy to find a niche and feel at home in many American cities.

Finally, it's obvious that the American economic system is overall very productive.  There is a general feeling in wealthier and middle-class districts of incredible material abundance. This wealth, combined with a relatively low population density in most areas, makes for generously proportioned homes surrounded by green.  It's rather stunning to see how well so many people live on a continental scale.  

In my postings that follow on four American cities, I will delve further into these thoughts, try to get to the bottom of what ails America's cities, and look for examples of both troubled and thriving streets and neighborhoods. 

After more than nearly 4 years away, last summer I came back for a long visit to a greener and better New York.  Not only are many of the city's neighborhoods gaining a higher quality of life, but the city seems to be finally taking advantage of one of its greatest assets:  water on all sides.  New York is an archipelago, just like Stockholm or Hong Kong, yet pedestrian access to its waterfront has been rather limited for decades and often the wet edges have been far from glamorous.  Things are changing.

I lived in New York City for 8 years, and had my first CitiNature project here in 2002.  At that time the city was starting some exciting projects.  Central Park was already beautifully restored, the Hudson River Park was under construction, beginning a total transformation of Manhattan's West Side, and the High Line park was conceived.   But in so many ways at that time, the city was far behind its peers around the world in the quality of its infrastructure and waterfront development.  Every time I would go to cities such as London, Sydney or Singapore I would feel let down, asking myself, 'If they can do it, why can't we?'  And biking in New York was hazardous.  I have always been a bike commuter, but riding my bike from the Upper West Side of Manhattan, where I lived, to any other part of the city was plain and simply dangerous. 

This last summer, I recognized that a process of fundamental change was underway.  The city was becoming a serious global contender in green design and sustainability and moving towards a higher quality of urban life.  In parts of Brooklyn I could have mistaken myself for being in Amsterdam or Dusseldorf.  In Manhattan new bicycle lanes, separated from traffic, were being built on many Avenues and it was now a pleasure (and safe) to ride my bike over large tracts of the city.  I could ride from E 45th Street, where I was staying, to the Bowery in 15 minutes - faster than using any form of public transport.  I could also ride from the East Side of Manhattan to Queens, over the Queensboro Bridge, in about 10 minutes.  The city was now bike friendly, although work is still underway to fill critical gaps in the network. 

I believe that New York is on its way to becoming one of the great biking cities of the world.  In my 2 months in New York during the summer, I discovered how easy it is to move around inside the boroughs and between them, as well.  There are 4 bridges with bike paths over the East River, connecting Manhattan to Queens and Brooklyn.  Throughout the city there are nearly 400 miles of bike paths and the network is becoming denser.  New York is no Amsterdam in terms of bike infrastructure density, but it is becoming easier and easier to get around this city solely by bicycle.  Recent news, however, indicates that this progress may be under threat.  Possible successors to Mayor Bloomberg are less bike friendly and have threatened cutbacks in bike lane construction. 

In addition to massively expanded bicycle infrastructure, I discovered park renovations going on throughout the city.  Formerly neglected parks in all boroughs are getting attention, making their neighborhoods more inviting places.  People are responding and in any newly created or renovated park I saw, there were lots of people walking, picnicking, rollerblading, biking, sunbathing and of course, just relaxing.  Poorly maintained parks were clearly not as popular and often almost empty  I think it should be obvious to anyone living in New York that quality green space is in short supply and there is strong public demand for it.

Although New York has made considerable progress in the last decade, a tour along the shoreline can be discouraging.  Large portions of the waterfront are still inaccessible and where it is open to the public, it is often in embarrassingly derelict condition.  By bicycle and on foot, I explored the entire shoreline of Manhattan, the full perimeter of Roosevelt Island, and the sides of Queens and Brooklyn facing Manhattan.  In contrast to the stunning Hudson River Park, most pedestrian waterfront areas of the city are in a crumbling state of disrepair.  Pavements are sinking and uneven, access is difficult for nearby residents (most glaringly, along the west side of Harlem), fences are corroding and falling into the rivers, and parks along the water are poorly maintained and litter-strewn,   Most readers of this blog, who live in the wealthier parts of the city, may be surprised to read this as parks in their neighborhoods are usually well maintained.  It certainly seems that there is a divide between wealthier and poorer neighborhoods in terms of park investment and maintenance. 

To be fair, the city has its work cut out for it.  Decades of underinvestment have left the present administration saddled with an unending list of urgent projects.  But the task of rehabilitating the city's shoreline, and opening it to pedestrians, is .  underway.   There are large scale projects planned such as rehabilitating, expanding and extending parks along the east side of Manhattan and building the Queens East River and North Shore Greenway.  There are numerous smaller projects, often associated with new development along the formerly industrial riverfront in Queens and Brooklyn.  The plan is to have these parks one day connected in a continuous sweep of green spaces and recreational facilities along the entire perimeter of all the islands within the city. 

New York is without question one of the most interesting and dynamic cities in the world.  Few places can compare with its mind-boggling array of cultural, culinary, educational (and so many other) offerings.  But one place where New York has suffered in comparison to cities with the highest quality of life, according to various measures, is public infrastructure.  While arguably having the best metro system in the United States, and one of the few systems I know of that operates 24 hours a day, it is run down and rather dirty in most stations.  Public pedestrian infrastructure, likewise, does not compare well.  Sidewalks are typically of artless, poured cement, streets are often roughly paved, and green spaces (especially outside of the wealthier parts of Manhattan and Brooklyn) are not up to standard.  But the future looks bright.  The scale of change I've witnessed tells me that New York is at last serious about catching up and becoming a truly world-class city in terms of the physical environment it provides.  This is great news for the millions of people who call New York home.