After spending hours searching for books on green architecture (or even sustainability) in Paris at the Bibliothèque de la Cité de l’Architecture et du Patrimoine yesterday (which, by the way, has an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower and Trocadero), and giving up largely in vain [because Paris just isn’t sustainable], I was happy to come across this gem of a project in the US.
CITE, or the Center for Innovation, Testing and Evaluation, will be a small town built near Hobbs, New Mexico for research companies to test out green energy technologies, intelligent transport systems, first responder (homeland security) technology, and high-tech wireless infrastructure in real-life settings–just without having people to account for. As the article puts it, the developer (Pegasus) will stop just “shy of interior decorating.” Sounds to me like it could have the potential to become a new Silicon Valley hotbed of creativity!
CITE will intentionally be an imperfect place… “We’re a dumb city,” Brumley says, “and we bring smart technology to the dumb city, or the ‘legacy’ city, to see how its IQ can be elevated. If you think of it that way, 99.9 percent of all American cities are dumb–they’re all legacy.”
While I (and apparently many others) would have wanted to see a prototype for a smarter city rather than another “legacy” city modeled on Rock Hill, South Carolina, complete with suburbs, exurbs, and other forms of sprawl (which then perpetuates the existence of these “dumb” cities), CITE is still a start in the right direction (both in terms of economic development for the NM-Texas border region, and for the many technologies that are approaching or are stuck in the infamous “valley of death” before commercialization and larger-scale use by the public).
Taken during the Nuit européenne des nuits (European Museum Night), when many, many museums all across Europe are open much later than normal operating hours, often with free admission to the general public. Unfortunately, “night” is meant only loosely, as most museums closed by 11:45 PM, with only the Centre de Pompidou (Paris’s main modern art museum) open until 1 AM. The shots above are from the inner courtyard of the Louvre (I didn’t make it there early enough to get inside).
As a little girl, I had this whimsical idea that Paris was like Disneyland, except for grown-ups–particularly, grown-ups who loved romance and passion, culture and art, and were fairly creative and open-minded.
After the seven weeks I’ve now spent here, I can say without a doubt that this is at most 5 % true. I share the same streets as men who think it’s perfectly fine to urinate against a wall in public (and have been doing so for centuries without fail); as men who think it’s perfectly fine to shout sexual slurs at women walking down a street alone, as if that automatically makes her a prostitute; as men who step on you or push you while dancing and never think to apologize. Forgive me for having expected to live amongst an advanced civilization. No, instead I find people living in Paris who’ve never heard of Moldova, even though this is just past the edge of the European Union; people who unabashedly make assumptions about Americans and the British without having ever visited either country; people who call themselves socialists living in a country of “liberté, egalité, fraternité” while still holding onto extremely xenophobic views.
As for creative and open-minded: if there’s one thing that my class on Parisian architecture taught me, it’s that the French resist change, and hate foreign influence even more. Throughout Paris’s history, many of its most influential architects, ministers, and kings have pushed for a “French” style. The result: homogenous (“harmonious”), colorless (mostly limestone and blue roof tiles), classical and neo-classical style, no matter the arrondissement or its history. When architects like Hector Guimard tried something different and innovative, the French thought it was over-the-top. The result is a city that is far from romantic, even in the springtime (which just means rain and/or clouds 90% of the time.) It’s saying something that Paris is more romantic and colorful at night–the yellow street lamps and black surroundings result in more color than you’d see in the daytime.
(Further examples of non-open-mindedness: Music? French music must be on radio airwaves at least 40% of the time during prime hours. Wine? Nothing but French will do. (It’s also usually cheaper, possibly because of government subsidies.))
Yes, I still have pretty pictures from my time in Paris so far. Some hidden gems are the interior of the Opera Garnier, the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, the Musée du Monde Arabe… and of course, the inside of Notre Dame. But will these spots of beauty overshadow the unpleasantries enough for me to want to live here? Probably not in the long term, though I’ll wait one month more to be certain.
After weeks of seeing limestone upon limestone (not to mention rain every single day) in Paris, going to Giverny made me feel like a kid in a candy store–except the candy became flowers. There was just so much COLOR!!!
As a bit of context, Giverny is a small French town in Normandy, NW of Paris, where the painter Claude Monet spent most of his later years. I was extremely surprised by the house itself: it was relatively small, and infinitely more humble, than most French houses of people who were as wealthy and popular as he was by the end of his life, and especially given that he was born and raised in Paris. I had the impression that his biggest investments were his collection of Japanese prints and his garden. At any rate, it was interesting to see where such a well-known artist spent his life and gained inspiration.
The town itself was very bucolic–ivy everywhere, brick and green.
A view of Monet’s house from the gardens
These two looked almost like they were talking to each other
Walking towards the lily pond from Monet’s gardens
The lily pond!
The cheerful kitchen of Monet’s house (with Japanese prints on every wall, bien sûr)
The view from Monet’s bedroom window. I can’t really blame him for being inspired.
I’ve been meaning to post photos for some time from Istanbul, Barcelona, and Paris–all wonderful, beautiful, and ridiculous places in their own ways. But I’ll start with a much less well-known spot of Europe: the region of Auvergne, in central France, where I spent this past weekend. Many of the towns we visited were part of the Santiago de Compostela route in France–a holy pilgrimage for Christians that links to where St. James is believed to be buried, in NW Spain. One town that we drove through even seemed to be throwing its own medieval fair–everyone in the streets and in the shops was strangely minding their own business, as if their stockings, colorful dresses, and frocks were completely expected in the 21st century.
There is some truth to my growing suspicion that most medieval towns in Western Europe are very similar… nonetheless, this region still had its own flavors:
- lace-making (which we learned was much more complex than previously thought),
- the bright-green, surprisingly strong liquor called Verveine,
- black foxes running along the highways,
- the icy-cold rapids of the Loire, and
- plenty of extinct volcanoes (Auvergne is in the heart of the Massif Central mountain range).
I’m also starting to think that they don’t care about diets like the Parisians do; the general population in Auvergne was of a healthier weight on average–perhaps partially because they were older, and central Paris’s population is much younger… The people of Auvergne (and particularly the staff of restaurants) were also thankfully friendlier than in Paris. 🙂