The Rush - Birmingham 2001

Scene 1 - The Ramp

" WOULD ALL MEMBERS OF THE PUBLIC, FOR THEIR OWN
SAFETY, KEEP TO THE LEFT SIDE, WHEN MOVING ALONG THIS RAMP!"

Says the electronic voice that issues from speakers that are suspended
above the seething mass of people that make up the living surface of the ramp.
The ramp provides the setting of numerous collisions as programs of shopping
and travelling co-exist in the same place, in that the shopper suddenly finds more
people to avoid as they walk up New Street. Conversely, the traveller is suddenly
confronted with a moving wall of people, as they reach the base of the ramp. On
the ramp itself, the flow of those travellers merges with the flow of shoppers,
moving up in to the Pallasades, causing friction as the 'rush' to catch trains
'collides' with the slow amble of the browsing shopper.

Scene 2 - McDonalds
A white line drawn down the centre of the ramp tries to order some of the
chaotic flow. In order to assist this, signs and electronic voices constantly remind
pedestrians to keep left. Half way up (or down, depending on your direction of
travel) Mc Donald's happens! What seems like hundreds of people spill out, laden
with flimsy 'Coke' cups, and 'Big Mac and Fries' in brown paper bags. Whilst others
stand in the doorway eating or talking on mobile phones, all interfering with the
hoards of people who seem to be constantly moving up the ramp. On exiting
McDonalds, it is bad luck if you actually want to go down the ramp!

Scene 3 - The Pallasades

After recovering from the McDonald's incident the stampede encounters
smaller incidents as activity at shop-fronts interrupt it.
At the top of the ramp two large overhead signs welcome you to the
Pallasades shopping centre, well, one actually as the soign to the left hand side is
obscured by the concrete canopy that projects out over the ramp Predominantly.
'Woolworths' dominates the left-hand side of the tunnel which is the entrance to the
Pallasades. with women standing outside with kids in Prams as their friends are
inside. On the opposite side it 'Newlook' with its extension over the high level
walkway, situated at the head of a stairway, linking the shopping centre with
Stephenson Place below. The head of the stair forms a flashpoint as people stand
and wait to get a clear space to be able to move down, at the same time as an
almost constant onslaught of people climbing up to avoid having to contend with
the ramp. More groups of young people stand guard on the entrance chatting to
their friends on mobile phones, blocking the path for those who want to go inside.
The Newt is a pub that has its entrance on the ramp although the pub is situated
on the lower level. The ramp entrance merely takes you down two flights of stairs
to get to the entrance lobby.

Scene 4 - In search of New Street station

At the end of the tunnel, the ceiling height rises to a double height space,
where on the ground the chaotic crossing of peoples’ paths breeds more collisions,
near misses, stopping, changing direction, annoyance and frustration! The
constantly moving mass of people in the shopping centre makes railway station is
difficult to find, although there is an overhead clock above the crossroads with
some small signs pointing to different parts of the centre. New Street Station is
identified as being straight on although from this point there is no indication of
anything resembling the station. Following the flow of people being deflected from
one corner to another they negotiate their way around the shop units that block
their path to the void.

Scene 5 - The escalators.

The void in the heart of the scheme is occupied by a bank of escalators
and stairs, forming the link with the railway station below. The top of the escalator
finds people arriving from the railway station, laden with bags and suitcases,
stopping dead, trying to recognise anything that constitutes a sign of a way out.
Much to the aggravation of the ones who do know where they are going, who have
to almost climb over them. Ironically on the opposite side if the escalator void is an
open café which does permit long views to the void from the shopping centre.

Scene 6 The concourse.

The ride down the escalator causes a similar series of events, as people
race down the escalator suddenly to be confronted with seething a mass of people.
Some standing mesmerised by the destination boards as they try to find where to
catch their train. Some distribute promotional goods, some generally mill around.
Others moving from person to person telling the same elaborate story of how they
are homeless and how they need your spare change; all blocking the way for those
who want to get from the city to the train and vice versa. Around to the left and just
behind of the base of the escalator, is the entrance for those arriving by car or taxi,
with the constant stream of 'Black-Cabs' dropping off and picking up. To the left in
front are the ticket counters with the general air of anxiety as people try to get
through the interminable queue to buy their ticket and still be able to catch their
train in time.

On Architectural Education: The journey continues

Following on from my previous post on my journey through Architectural education from leaving school in 1987 to graduating with RIBA Part III in 2001, this is about what happens after. I remember being asked by my Director in the practice that I was working at the time, the day that I qualified, and was awarded the Diploma in Professional Studies in Architecture, the exemption from the holy grail of qualifications RIBA Part III, what makes you different today to yesterday? My answer: today I am an Architect, yesterday I was an Architectural Assistant, I have a licence to practice. However in the context of working within a practice, at that moment in time, it made absolutely no difference to what I was doing on the project to the day before. The difference within the practice moving forward is that I could be charged out at a higher rate than before, and have the recognition when facing clients, that I was now an Architect. When newly qualified in 2001, the skill set was complete...right? Over the past seven years I had worked on everything from developing Analytical tools, Design skills, Technical knowledge, Communication Skills and knowledge of Planning Law, Project Management, Business Development.

Fast forward to 2014, the title Architect is the subject of some debate, whether it be about the misuse of the title within the profession, or the hijacking of the title in its entirety by the IT industry, usually with the prefix Enterprise, Solutions, or any number of IT related titles, or whether it is about feeling undervalued by clients based on the perception that nobody understands what an Architect does. For example, project management, part of the administrative function of being an Architect, is undertaken by construction professionals from any number of backgrounds, from plumbing to quantity surveying, I have worked with some extremely good project managers, I have also worked with a number that have made me think I could do a far better job myself. In some cases I have found myself actually doing the project management work whist someone else has the title.

There are also titles that pigeonhole us: Concept Architect, Technical Architect, Project Architect, Site Architect, Consultant Architect, Chief Architect, Principal Architect, Senior Architect, Junior Architect, Lead Architect...and so on, it seems that the title Architect is not enough to describe what we do. In my career to date since qualification my titles have varied: Project Architect, Associate, Project Manager, Senior Architect, Lead Designer, Chief Architect...I have also moved out of the sphere of the UK based practice, although I had been working for an international practice in the UK, the practice of Architecture was under UK law and in the English language.

Things became interesting when opportunities to stay practicing Architecture during the economic crisis, took me to the place I least expected to be...Saudi Arabia. The first inkling that things were going to be a little different was when I attended the Visa interview in London, I took all my certificates and ARB registration documents with me and was asked what is my highest level qualification. I replied that my highest academic level is a Masters Degree which does not qualify me to practice architecture. OK, we'll take the MA, it is going to the Saudi Embassy, they will not understand the difference, but will recognise the highest level. I deferred to their judgement. Sure enough when the Visa came through it was not for an Architect at all, but for Project Engineer. Now, I know a bit about structures and services, I might even know a tiny bit about mechanics, but would never consider myself an engineer. A brief conversation with my recruitment consultant, revealed that in Arabic there is no word for Architect, the closest being Mohindas which means Engineer.

Sure enough when immersed in the working environment in Saudi Arabia, it appears that all senior construction professionals are addressed with the prefix 'Engineer', which makes things most confusing. The next difference being how an Architect from the UK differs from say India or the Phillipines, hence the titles, Senior and Junior are selected based not on experience but where in the world you qualified. So I came to Saudi as a Project Engineer on the visa, a Senior Architect on the payroll, and assuming the title Lead Designer in the office.

The journey continues, the learning never stops.

Pelican Crossing - Colombo 2010

Away from the traffic is a road that is less heavily used, and forms a complete loop around Beira lake, it is difficult to walk anywhere in Colombo without being accompanied by a self-appointed tour guide who appears out of nowhere the moment you step on to the street, and offers you his life story as well as pointing out things that you can already see. The waterfront to the lake is practically non-existent, looking every part like a once elegant Victorian promenade long forgotten and neglected, where vegetation has taken over in places. The surface of the water along the former promenade is made up of floating plastic bags and debris derived from packaging. Kittens play in a shady corner, whilst pelicans cruise up and down on the surface of the lake, as the sun begins to set forming a dramatic profile of the skyline as the towers along the Galle Road are silhouetted against the evening sky.  In the centre of the lake, Seema Malaka, the Lake temple designed by Geoffrey Bawa, Sri Lanka’s best known architect, and founder of the movement known as tropical modernism. Here the modern temple designed in the 1970s takes on a timeless quality in its serene setting.

I am told that following independence in 1948, much of the British contributions to the city and indeed country have not been maintained.  Here the formerly gentrified areas surrounding the lake bear the signs of long term neglect; trees grow out of the walls of the white rendered buildings resembling the hotels that make up the sea front at Brighton, long abandoned by the gentry. A walk across the busier of the roads, a once grand tree lined boulevard, to Gangaramaya Temple, built in the 1800s, completely surrounded by trees, the air filled with the heady scent of lotus flowers and burning incense, it is easy to forget that you are in the centre of Colombo,  the sound of the tuk tuks and car horns, fades into the background, a sense of calm permeates as the senses, as they are completely occupied taking in the sight of all the intricate carvings in a deep dark wood, my tour guide tells me I can take photos, but it feels disrespectful to do so inside the temple. Outside, numerous Buddha statues, all bearing an orange sash seated in meditation, each next to their own dagoba as though in a class. Overhead, hundreds of flags flutter in the evening breeze, whilst in the courtyard a baby elephant chomps on some palm fronds for her evening meal.

Back out into the deluge of tuk tuks, car horns, dust and fumes, the sun has disappeared below the horizon, leaving a fading orange glow as twilight approaches. Walking once again along the fragments of the broken promenade, a suspension bridge leading to another island in the lake is fenced off, saying that the authorities have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to get to the island shown as Childrens' Park on Google Earth, or ride in one of the swan boats moored there. The ever present pelican follows, looking very much like a creature from an ancient age of the Earth. The route along the north part of the waterfront is blocked off, so the walking route deviates across a car park to one of the office blocks and through a small gate into the street that belongs to another world. Gone are the signs of Victoria’s Empire, the street is barely wide enough to drive a tuk tuk down, which of course is precisely is what drives down there moving slowly through a stream of local people walking barefoot along this incredibly busy street, in a densely packed quarter of the city known as Slave Island, maybe not all the signs of Victoria have gone.  Curious, friendly faces peer out of shops and houses, evening meals are being prepared giving the air a very appetizing aroma of a myriad of different varieties of curry. The walk inevitable finds once again the road and the traffic, a level crossing with gates that look like they have not changed since 1948, announces the presence of Slave Island Railway Station, an active station looking very much like the ones that did not survive Beeching in the UK. 

The route joins the Galle road and return to Victorian Splendor, the Galle Face Hotel looking every part as though it has been transplanted from Brighton, the green, the promenade evoke memories of growing up by the seaside in the UK. Here the semi-permanent beach cabins of Paignton are replaced by tricycle rickshaws, ‘Walls’ Ice cream, takes its place among a myriad of local snacks, egg hoppers, devilled cashew nuts, sodas available from temporary stands formed by the tricycles. It is a very busy place, the air alive with the sound of the excited exchanges of Sinhalese conversation. The pier, a concrete platform that extends no more than thirty metres into the Indian Ocean, but people still walk out to the end to get a closer view of the sea, begging the question was this once a longer pier that has been destroyed? Or is it one that was intended to be longer and abandoned for some reason?

Blade Runner - Colombo 2004

The protective clothing worn by the motorcyclist usually comprises protective boots in flip flops format, protective jacket in short sleeve shirt format, and helmet well in helmet format, for the rider at least. Moving through the traffic, following the biker, Colombo life takes on a vibrancy that is infectious. The biker pulls off to the left to talk to his friends standing by the side of the street, the street is completely occupied by motorbike shops, you can buy a bike or any amount of spares to keep your bike going, whilst others are fixing and tinkering to do just that. Continuing among the flow of more bikes and tuk tuks, some turn off to the left into an environment that is simply alive with humanity, the buildings are invisible, the road surface is alive with tuk tuks, motorbikes, people walking and cycling, all in slow motion, some making a very defined flow through the space, others stopping to talk to others in the dark spaces just off the street, where it looks like you can buy absolutely anything from fresh fruit to light bulbs. In the street itself, people sit on chairs outside their shops, others seem to be selling from tricycle rickshaws and hand carts. Nobody can move at any more than a slow walking pace through this heart of the city, this is Main Street this is where it seems all of the life of Colombo is concentrated into one space, its heartbeat defined by the exchange and interplay of locals, goods and conversation.

Above, a crazy framework of steel fixed to the face of the buildings supports all manner of illuminated signs, although not illuminated as it is mid-morning, but making a brightly coloured collage against the intense blue sky, it seems that each sign stretching vertically up the face of the building is competing for position, stretching either further out over the street, or reaching higher up the building face. Many of the signs are in Sinhalese, others in English, with some familiar names that have disappeared from the British high street, Lipton, Singer... In between the building signs, streetlights compete for position, although with all the illuminated signs, I am not sure they are really necessary. Windows peer out from the cluttered facades, every now and then a pediment or a moulding is visible giving a hint of another city beneath that was built long before the advent of neon.  The tops of the parapets are adorned with signs as are the fascias above the dark spaces of the shops on the street, at night this must be awash with neon and fluorescent light. An air conditioning unit fixed on steel brackets sits precariously above the shopfront fascia, humming away pushing hot air out into the already hot and humid environment, to keep somebody cool whilst working in their office buried under the collage.

The Bradbury, or is it? In fact there are colonial buildings everywhere slotted in amongst the living fabric of buying, selling and tuk tuks. A deep red block with subtle changes in ornament, from one 'Bradbury' to the next defines one as a church, another as a mosque, whilst at the end of the row the bo tree (also known as weeping fig) grows through a clay tiled roof, and the pristine white render walls surround a garden and a pristine white Dagoba defining the Buddhist temple. The old Colombo port, the source of much of Sri Lanka’s wealth, through trading gems and tea could easily be Liverpool in the height of summer, with its grand warehouse and port offices buildings, similarly many in a state of decline as the transport of goods has moved away from shipping in small vessels to massive container ships or air freight. It is easy to imagine the rain pouring through the roof at night during the monsoon season completing the illusion that J.F. Sebastian lives in a block to himself.

Clouds of steam issue from a group of low rise buildings along with the smell of soap and wet fabrics, hundreds of shirts hang on lines in the yard outside, while sheets are laid out on the ground drying in the heat of the day at Colombo’s outdoor laundry, tended by numerous diligent workers. There is not a single area of street where people don’t walk, and in some cases that is also the railway, they simply step aside when the train comes, the commuter train, like the buses in my previous post ‘Poetry in Slow Motion’ is invariably overcrowded, with people standing in the open doors hanging on to the handrails as the train picks its way through the city. Embedded in the dense urban fabric a dazzling array of carved figures reflecting the intense sunlight, on the towers of the Hindu temple, add to the already intense colour of street life in this cultural melting pot of a city. The colours are tangible not only in the visual but in the smells, aromas of fresh fruit combine with spices in the ongoing preparation of and rice and curry that makes up the daily diet of much of the population.

On Architectural Education

A note on the journey.

With debates on social media and in particular BD 6th December 2013, regarding possible reforms to the RIBA education structure and potential abolition of part I, II and III as the qualification route, I find myself in a position of due to circumstances, having qualified through two routes, the BIAT route and the RIBA route and being able to offer insight into the similarities and the differences between the two, this is my story.

Note: BIAT has been through numerous name changes throughout its life. With the change of job title from Technician to Technologist, and subsequently the ‘British’ was replaced with ‘Chartered’ and as a result the current title is Chartered Institute of Architectural technologists (CIAT)

The journey started in 1987 I had been accepted on the full time BTEC Building Studies course at South Devon College of Arts and Technology, electing to pursue what I felt was a practical application of my skills as opposed to going on and doing A levels in the sixth form at the Grammar school. My chosen career goal at that point was to become an Architectural Technician as opposed to an Architect, the exact reasoning I am not sure now, but if memory serves it was linked to the perception that A levels and University seemed like a very long time before I could start work.

On leaving school, opportunities conspired to make it happen and I joined a small firm of Architects in my home town, Paignton as a trainee Architectural Technician, transferring to the part time mode of the BTEC Building Studies course.

The course was actually two courses: Ordinary National certificate (ONC) for the first two years, then Higher National Certificate (HNC) for the second two years, where you could choose between the Architectural stream or the construction stream, many of my colleagues worked for contractor, or local authority; planning, building control, highways, environmental health. I think I was one of four that were working in Architectural Practice. The courses were structured in units, and if I remember correctly this was a relatively new concept at the time. The units included: land surveying, building surveying, construction technology, Architectural design (taught by an Architect), contract administration, environmental science, structures, services, practice management, measurement, specification: Some of the assignments were quite in depth, including a full construction process from demolition and temporary shoring of adjacent structures, to structural systems, cladding, interior finishes. Another assignment involved supervising a JCT 80 construction contract, filling out the relevant certificates and correspondence to manage a live project scenario.

In the office the IT department was an Amstrad PCW8256 word processor linked to a dot matrix printer, there were also two instantaneous word processor/printers called typewriters, the office comms was a single grey Bakelite telephone with a dial and a very loud bell ringer, the fax machine was at Prontaprint, the print bureau down the road, reprographics was a dye line printer which you fed ‘negatives’, ink line drawings on tracing paper, to make copies for submissions...and of course  ‘production’ was drawing board and ‘T’ square. Production involved trimming the prints, and colour washing, not a magic marker in site. I used to love drawing and remember being called into the office of the head of building control at the Local Authority, and being told that the drawings I had submitted were the best he has seen in 20 years in the job.

The practice handled everything in the design and construction process...Urban design, masterplanning, construction detailing, site supervision, project management, even cost control. Over the next four years I qualified as an Architectural Technician and attained associate membership of the then British Institute of Architectural Technicians (ABIAT) and felt like I had made it. In reality one year later I was one year of practical experience away from achieving full membership (MBIAT) and a licence to practice. At that point in time I was running my own jobs, and managing my own work flow within the practice. The recession of 1992 meant that there came the came the inevitable day where I was handed my notice and my boss reminded me that I had been talking about going to University. 

The rest as they say is history, well almost. I immediately phoned Plymouth School of Architecture, my nearest Architecture school, thinking I could just go and attend the course to qualify as an Architect, I am already qualified as an Architectural Technician, that’s five years, so I have to do another two to top it up to being an Architect right?  Err...No it takes three years to get a degree, another two to get a Post Graduate Diploma and then another two in practice, and your qualifications might exempt you from the A level entry requirements to get into University...oh bugger! I had to go through clearing and quickly learned the difference between having A Levels and not, the top schools at the established universities were not interested, it was only the Polytechnics that were inviting me to open days and interviews but not for 1992 term start but 1993. So 1993 I joined what was Birmingham Poly the year previously, rebranded as University of Central England in Birmingham.

Needless to say I arrived at RIBA education under a bit of a misapprehension, I was a qualified Architectural Technician and already knew what I was doing, right?  I was accustomed to scoring 85% in assignments, thinking I was invincible, this should be easy. I remember showing examples of my work that I had done in practice to my fellow students, they were impressed, but I was told by our tutor ‘great drawings, but that is building, not Architecture’. He also told us at the very beginning of the course that Architecture is about people, not buildings...it did come as bit of a shock to me at the time.

The journey was one of discovery, learning and in some cases unlearning as the course became immersed in ‘Poetics of Space’ (Bachelard). and ‘Blade Runner’ (Ridley Scott/Philip K Dick). Based around studio projects with a strong emphasis on psychology; expression and representation of ideas using multiple media, art, verbal, film; all studio units were centered around presentation and discussion of ideas in a crit environment and sure enough had very little to do with building. The first year of the course provided a broad foundation to the study of architecture and landscape architecture in the context of the urban condition. Many projects were based on aspects of the 1960’s modern urban core that makes up Birmingham city centre, along with the industrial voids in the city and surrounding areas. Units were aimed at reading and interpreting the non-designed and designed environment.

The technical units such as Structures, Construction and Architectural Science were for me a repeat of the ONC, although ironically I struggled with Architectural Science, I think the subtle difference was the subject changed from Environmental Science on the HNC to Architectural Science on the BA, and with it a change of emphasis from the scientific angle to the human angle, the calculations were the same, but how the results were interpreted that was missing from before.

Site visits gave an introduction to Birmingham, from the founding of the Lunar Society to the first air-rights building over the canal, the vast grass bank that was to become Brindley Place, the subways, the sunken plazas a product of Manzoni’s Inner Ring Road, dubbed the ‘Concrete Collar’. Sandwell Valley and the formation of a nature reserve in a former open cast colliery. Projects were based around The Bull Ring and Rotunda, Birmingham’s Modern City Centre. Visits to London, took in not the sights, but The Bartlett, Sir John Soanes Museum, Grimshaw’s then soon to be completed Waterloo International, The concrete structures on The South Bank. A discussion took place on Waterloo bridge about the eastern skyline: the ‘City’ after the IRA bomb, Rogers’ Lloyds building, Canary Wharf tower on the Horizon. A later visit took in the Swiss Cottage, Saatchi gallery and the Oil Room, A visit to Bath took in the Roman Ruins, Georgian houses and the planning of the Renaissance city, in a nutshell, exposure to the examples of the complete history of Architecture in single academic year.

The second year was more technically biased and was easy for me as I was drawing a lot on my previous experience, in essence more repetition of ONC. A study visit to Paris gave a lot of design inspiration, taking in La Villette, Pompidou, Arab Institute as well as soaking up the atmosphere of the city in about 4 days. What I felt was a repeat of the ONC units were augmented by Architectural History, Urban History, Urban Design and the requirement to write research papers. The third year was based on the application of the science, construction, structures and technology to a design problem that was founded in the theory derived from detailed analysis of site, environment, brief and context. What was learned in becoming an Architectural Technician formed only small part of the requirement, maybe as low as 10%. Following the completion of the degree, the usual route comprises a ‘year out’ in practice which for most of my colleagues would be their first exposure to working in a real world environment, and the perception from the Practices is that this is essentially a work experience placement, and not a real job. I did take a position but not as a Part I but as an Architectural Technician, in essence picking up where I had left off before going to university, and I remember teaching my colleague who had gone through the traditional A levels/degree route some of the practical aspects, such as surveying that are not covered on the BA.

The return to University for the Part II was intended to be a lot freer in terms of design and theory. I had established with the head of school that my technical knowledge was sound, but my designs were lacking in theory. In terms of education, the environment is a lot more investigative than the degree. In terms of the technology, not surprisingly many aspects covered on the HNC, but somehow in less depth and as with the Part I, the emphasis is about application rather than knowing the data. On balance the Part II may have overlapped with the HNC by about 5%. The previous experience as a technician becomes something of a double edged sword following Part II, be treated as a Part II student with very little experience, or risk getting typecast as a Technician and not progress beyond that function.

Much of the meat of the HNC not surprisingly is not covered until Part III because it is associated with running a practice however, at Part III is much more in depth. For me the journey did not end with Part III, it continued as a Masters’ Degree continuing some of the investigation into design theory that for me had not concluded at Part II.

On balance the process of qualifying as a Technician through the BIAT route, taught me how buildings go together, and a lot about the design process but not about design. The lesson learned though subsequently qualifying through the RIBA route is that the design process is essentially the same, buildings go together in the same way. The huge difference is the RIBA route prompts a deeper understanding of the impact of design on the built environment, its relationship to context and people who will have to live with it.

Poetry in slow motion - Colombo 2002

In my last post, Lost in Manama, I made reference to the second Manama resembling much of what I have experienced in Colombo, Sri Lanka, therefore this post starts where my association with Colombo began, in the winter of 2002. This was my first visit to a developing country and the comparison from a European perspective was unavoidable and my first impression was one of complete culture shock. Not in so much the people, but the daily patterns that give Colombo its life. Colombo is defined by traffic, from people walking on the road, elephants, bicycles, all manner of vehicles that operate on the basis that as long as the wheels rotate, it is on the road. Road rules as understood from driving in the UK? Forget it!

Here the rules are completely different. Mirrors, not used, in fact nobody even looks over their shoulder when joining traffic. It seems that the unwritten rule is that everybody gives way without exception. That is until you get to a junction, crossroads or a roundabout, then nobody gives way, so it becomes a matter of forcing your way into or across the traffic. The local taxi, a three wheeler known as a trishaw or more popularly a 'tuk tuk', the name derived from the two stroke engine sound. These seem to be protected by an invisible force field, and their drivers know no fear, they drive across oncoming traffic, they will fit into the smallest of gaps and will overtake in the face of oncoming traffic, avoiding collision by no more than a whisker. Indicators are rarely used, truck drivers will use them to say that it is not safe to overtake, sometimes accompanied by a hand gesture that means 'get back'. In other cases indicators may be used because it is the only light that works on the vehicle.

It seems that the entirety of the road surface is occupied, and people seem to possess a sixth sense of what is happening around them. Let’s start with the pedestrians: there are no pavements or side-walks, depending on where you are from, so walking takes place on the road, barefoot in many cases. Never hurried, never trying to avoid vehicles, just serenely walking along whilst the chaos of moving vehicles takes place around them. There are then pedestrians will all manner of hand carts, carrying anything from fresh fruit to cooking pots. I did mention elephants; it is not uncommon to see an elephant or two on the road, with one man sitting on the shoulders and a few more walking alongside. A cart drawn by a bullock, loaded with produce plods along at its own pace.

Cyclists are a whole other class of road user, riding a bicycle that would most likely be seen in a museum in the UK, single gear, rod brakes, usually with a lamp iron on the front and a rack on the back. A family will travel on a single bicycle, man riding, wife seated side saddle on the cross bar, child on rear rack, and the smallest child seated on the handlebar resting their feet on the lamp iron. Moving at little more than walking pace it is a testament to the laws of physics that they able to maintain balance at all, more often couples ride on the same bicycle, male and female and sometimes just male, but the passenger always rides side saddle on the crossbar. There are many combinations of cycle, bicycle with large wooden board fixed to the handlebar with copious amounts of lottery tickets stapled to the board. Tricycle rickshaws, tricycle carts fully loaded with what appears to be far too much stuff to be propelled by pedal power, there are hand cycles, a kind of wheelchair with a crank fixed to the armrest, and a chain drive to the wheel. Different cycles, moving at different speeds passing pedestrians and animals, are being constantly passed by all the other vehicles. Motorcycles, no big bikes here, due to a national restriction on engine size set at 250cc. The same family scenario as the bicycle family occurs on the motorbike too, and curiously it seems to be only the man that wears a crash helmet. Here the format differs slightly, as the wife will usually ride pillion, eldest child on the fuel tank, and smallest on the handlebar resting their feet on the front light.

Tuk tuks are everywhere, speeding past the myriad of pedestrians and cyclists, and in most cases driving in amongst them in a constant game of dodging the pedestrian to one side and faster moving vehicles to the other. The air is heavy with dust and exhaust fumes punctuated by the ever present Beep! Beep! of car horns, which usually means ‘move over’. Buses: invariably a yellow single decker, with a list to port. The door is on the left side i.e. ‘port’ the bus is fully loaded, overcrowded would be an understatement, it goes without saying that the seats are fully occupied, sometimes with passengers seated on the laps of others. Then there is standing room, in fact the gangway is so tightly packed it is a wonder that anyone is able to get on or off the bus. The door is open, with people wedged in the doorway, and one or two hanging off the wing mirror, which explains the list to port. All the buses seem to have been modified so that there is no silencer, and clouds of black smoke are pumped out into faces of those not riding on the bus, judging by the facial expressions, nobody seems to mind, they just carry on moving, minding their own business.

Trucks: Leyland trucks, familiar in the UK during the 1970s are still going strong, some original, some manufactured in India form the backbone of freight movement, restricted to 35kmh, they chug around fully loaded with anything from fresh produce, timber to motorbikes, usually with the loading and unloading crew sitting on top of whatever is being transported in the open back. The back of the truck is usually built of timber, and painted in bright colours and adorned in patterns derived from flowers. Agricultural vehicles invariably join in with the fun, tractors towing trailers, even something resembling a rotavator towing a trailer a la 'The Good Life' is not a rarity here. Cars: this is a mish-mash of old and new, old from Europe, new from Asia. Mark I Ford Escort is still going strong, along with Morris Minor, Austin Cambridge, and VW Beetle from the 1960’s, it seems that they do not rust here, so have long outlasted their European counterparts, some have been manufactured in India at a later date of course, so would not be as old as their long dead cousins. Toyota Hiace vans and minibuses are almost as numerous as tuk tuks, invariably painted white to reflect the heat and form the backbone of family transport for the more wealthy. Some roads have no markings so the position of the middle of the road varies depending on the volume of traffic moving along that ‘side’ and where there are road markings two lanes will easily become more than five.

In Colombo the perception of time is based on the understanding that there is a an hour window for any specified meeting, for example if you say you are going to meet at 10am, you could meet that person any time from 10:00 to 11:00, because if the clock says it is 10.59 it is still 10am. Based on the traffic it makes sense because there is never any guarantee that you can arrive when you intend to, and can easily be held up for an hour. The main road into Colombo is lined with all manner of buildings, offices, shops, hotels which are not hotels in the sense that there are rooms where you stay overnight, but are more akin to a cafe or a bar. A crowd of people occupy a corner where two roads intersect, all intently gazing into the shop, it is a TV shop, and a cricket match is playing.

Cricket is everywhere, from a group of kids playing a match on any spare patch of ground they can find, to the billboards on seemingly every street adorned with the familiar faces of Sri Lanka’s cricketers advertising anything from soft drinks to financial services. Beyond the shops that line the side of the road is green, fruit trees: mango, papaya, banana, coconut, king coconut. Between the trees are paddy fields, cattle graze on the verge of the road because everything else is cultivated. There is intensity to life that takes place on or alongside the road that I doubt I will find anywhere else, it feels like the city is in constant movement, a state of chaos in slow motion, where everything is happening at once but without conflict making Colombo a vibrant and colourful city where everything happens on the road.

Lost in Manama - 2014

When I first came to Bahrain I was told that it is impossible to get lost, it is such a small place, as long as you keep the sea to your left you will not go far wrong. Once on the ground, or more specifically on the road, most of this notion actually holds true, that is until you are trying to find anywhere specific in the urban melee that is Manama.

There are in fact at least 3 Manamas: one that is defined by historic forts and palaces and synonymous with Portugese or British rule thoughout the past centuries, in today’s Manama many of these are the associated with government and are identified by sentry guards with machine guns, standing outside closed gates set into the solid perimeter walls. The Second Manama is one that was largely built following independence from British rule in 1971, built in much the same manner as the reconstruction of post war Europe and is largely populated by Indian nationals and others from the Indian sub-continent and resembles much of what I have experienced in Colombo, Sri Lanka. The third Manama is one that is under construction following significant ‘reclamation’ from the sea, and is defined by highways and intersections, shopping malls and isolated developments, and is home to a combination of western and Arab expatriate populations, many living in the constant wave of new apartment blocks that are appearing. On a day to day basis it is the third Manama that I most interact with, driving from one development of reclaimed land at Awmaj Islands to another at Seef District along the ever changing network of highways.

A bit about the transformation: a study of historic maps reveals not only numerous ‘Manama’s but numerous ’Bahrain’s as the Northern Coastline appears to have been redrawn on a regular basis throughout the past century. From the formation of a port to build on the wealth from the Pearl trade, at the site now known as Bab al Bahrain, a car park now occupies what was the port. In subsequent years a pier stretched further and further northwards from Bab al Bahrain as the wealth was generated not from pearls, but oil, and the coastline gradually marched North to support a booming industry. A series of dramatic leaps Northward occur on the maps of the 1970s and 1980s in an ongoing ‘reclamation’ project. With the use of Google Earth, it is possible to see the scale and speed of development that has taken place.

For example in 2002, the King Faisal Highway that is my drive to work every day was in the sea, coral reefs are visible beneath the surface of the water, my place of work Seef District, although, the land is reclaimed is largely undeveloped, there are certainly none of the regular destinations:  City Centre Mall, Seef Mall or Bahrain Mall, and the area north of Sanabis resembles one large sandpit. Using the ‘Time Slider’ it is possible to view is the dramatic development. 2004 The coral reefs are beginning to be filled in, built over, destroyed and ironically the first artificial island to appear on the North Coast of Bahrain in 2005 is named Reef Island. The map also shows the formation of a group of islands to the North of Muharraq, an area now familiar to me, Amwaj Islands, ‘Amwaj’ derived from the Arabic for Shell. The towers that have become iconic and synonymous with Bahrain’s position on the world stage began to emerge from the sea in 2006, with the ongoing dredging, filling in, and formation of Bahrain Bay which became visible in 2007. By 2010 buildings began appearing on Bahrain bay the now vacant Arcapita building, the three towers known as the ‘twisted sisters’ emerged out of the new ground, only to cease twisting and stand as a monument to the financial crisis. In 2011, the Pearl Roundabout, disappeared as if to erase memories of events that occurred in the Arab spring. The corniche begins to emerge, landscaped parks appear between the highway and the new a sea front, by 2012 the parks are obliterated by the widening of the highway, two new hotel towers appear on the map that define the new skyline and Bahrain’s confidence as an international destination in the future, the Four Seasons on its little island as the centre piece of Bahrain Bay, and the Wyndham Grand. 

With activity concentrated along the King Faisal Highway, there is little need to enter the older city. Highways cut through the city result in a number of awkward intersections, and a drive off one of the intersections of on one of the rare occasions where there is a need to drive in the second Manama, life gets more interesting and it is less a matter of getting lost, and more a case of getting frustrated by the road network that prevents you from getting to where you need to. A classic case of car dependent culture being superimposed on the historic fabric of narrow streets and small scale blocks: what was once an urban fabric derived from being able to walk between blocks, through a network of narrow alleys to afford some protection from the heat in the shadows cast by adjacent buildings. The urban plane is dominated by  10-12 storey concrete framed blocks that meet the ground very awkwardly, usually defined by a forest of columns supporting the apartments over what invariably becomes a chaotic jumble of parked cars. The shaded alleys have all but disappeared in some areas to be replaced by parked cars. Others, replaced by an unintelligible one way system, roads are barely wide enough to drive down, past all the parked cars, sidewalks are practically non-existent and local shops open directly onto the road. As a visitor, there are very few places to park your car if you were adventurous enough to try to walk in amongst the slow moving traffic, the result: driving around in circles in a constant stream of slow moving traffic. Navigation ends up being dependent on the micro scale, based on local knowledge of shops in a specific area as any of the urban landmarks are obscured by the monotonous realm of apartment blocks and parked cars.  It becomes almost impossible to see where you are going as the search for landmarks is superseded by the avoidance of parked cars, moving cars and pedestrians all while having somebody driving six inches off your back bumper, with a tendency to beep the horn at every opportunity, and then some more just in case.

At Seef, a district that has been built on the top of coral reefs, the same problem is being replicated as the sporadic development is following the same priorities. The development regulations are such that you have to provide car parking on your development site, meaning that recent developments will comprise a parking podium of usually 4 to 5 storeys, built right up to the property line, with offices or apartments in a narrower block, respecting the setbacks imposed by the regulations, sitting on top. The result being chaos at ground level dominated by parked cars, precious little space to walk and even less landscape. A few blocks are hotels which do have manicured lawns at the front along with its myriad of flagpoles, signage totems and decorative planting, marooned in a sea of dust, asphalt and parked cars.

Where development is yet to happen, large areas of sand are largely covered by parked cars, that will surely add to the problem when these areas become developed. Conversely the transformation is following a strategic vision aimed at creating an international city by the year 2030, this includes a high speed rail link to a route that is currently in development from Kuwait to Muscat, and includes a link to Qatar. A metro system, an integrated network of buses, trams and monorail, will surely provide an interesting dynamic to the selection of apartment locations. It will be interesting to see how these development occur and how much of the vision survives into realization.  On reflection it is not so much a case of being lost in Manama, but it may be Manama being lost within and constantly having to adjust to its own transformation.