Urban Divide

eastpaloalto“You don’t want to go to East Palo Alto! It is on the wrong side of the tracks”, was the advice I was given when looking for somewhere to rent in Silicon Valley back in the late 90s. East Palo Alto has been very poor since the early 80s and has much higher rates of crime than the other bits of Palo Alto that just got more wealthy and posher during the technology dotcom bubble. A similar demarcation exists in Bloomington, Indiana, where I also once lived. Those on the wrong side of the tracks live in poverty and are often regarded as trailer trash whilst those on the right side are university dons and students, respectable and educated. A clear town and gown divide.

More generally, every country has its north and south or east and west. If you live in the south of England you consider those ‘up north’ to be working class, poor and hard-nosed. Conversely, if you live in the north of England you consider those ‘down south’ to be stuck up, wealthy and snooty. The dividing line is located at the infamous Watford Gap service station on the M1. Apparently, nearly 75% of the English are prejudiced against their northern or southern neighbours.

The same can be said about cities. People south of the Thames rarely venture north of the river outside of work and vice versa. Each side of London has its own culture, accent, street fashion and views about people living on the other side.

millroad Such urban splits are perpetuated right down to the street level. There is a street in Cambridge, UK, called Mill Road that is divided by railway tracks. On one side is Romsey and on the other, Petersfield. Romsey people believe Petersfield is less safe and has less community feel than their neighbourhood. But what do those in Petersfield think? Do they regard themselves as being poorer – whether financially culturally or economically? Do they think it is more or less unsafe than Romsey? Another case of being on the wrong side of the tracks?

Are the perceived differences about the other side real or imagined? This is the question being asked on one of our current research projects run by Lisa Koeman and Vaiva Kalnikaitė as part of the ICRI Cities. Instead of simply asking people on the street what they think, we have employed electronic voting devices to mediate. 18 of these portable devices have been designed, custom built and placed in shops along the street – some on the Romsey side and the others at the Petersfield end.
lisa2 Shoppers get to vote on a variety of questions to do with the neighbourhood, by simply pressing one of three coloured buttons, depending on whether they agree, are neutral or disagree. Statements include “the street has a real buzz today”, “I feel socially connected” and, “I feel at home on Mill Road.” They are of course free and encouraged to talk at large about the issues with others in the shop or street.

The logged votes are then aggregated for each shop and displayed as a public visualisation outside them. Local graffiti artists spray the breakdown of the votes as a percentage for each choice – using temporary chalk and stencils – onto the pavement next to each shop taking part. This then becomes the talking point for for all to see, be puzzled about and compare.
visualisation_3

At the end of the week an evocative visualisation of all the votes for all the questions, from the two parts of the street – divided by the tracks – will be designed and sprayed on the bridge pavement to show whether and what are the differences, as judged by the shoppers and shopkeepers. Will it be the case that the perceived economic and social differences are as marked as we are led to assume?

The jury is out.

If you want to have your say pop into one of the participating shops and cast your vote. The project also hopes to enable residents and visitors to the area to find out more about the street – which is known for its vibe, diverse community and international shops.

Real Talk

yammer-mascot-785x1024A fellow commuter was having a bit of a rant on the train yesterday about how his colleagues, especially the younger ones, don’t talk any more. He got more and more animated in his diatribe against the youth, glued to their screens, constantly tapping away on Facebook, Twitter, Yammer and email. But what really pissed him off was what they were not doing, rather than what they were doing. Why could they not spend some of their time face-to-face with people, practicing the art of conversation and using a bit more body language?

My fellow commuter manages a corporate hospitality company, where socializing offline is central to their business, which involves procuring new clients to sponsor sporting events, such as the Olympics. He lamented how it is rare now for someone to get off their seat in the open plan office and go out for a coffee. Instead they all drink take-away coffee and eat ready-made sandwiches at their desks. None of them ever walk over to the specially customized coffee area he had built to try to encourage them to meet together a bit more offline – to catch up, share an anecdote, voice a worry, or simply engage in gossip and in doing so, practice the skills of small talk, medium talk and big talk. As a result, they don’t know the first thing about how to talk to a client, let alone how to engage with them in the first place. They rely on ‘the dinosaurs’ (his term) to do the ice-breaking, the buttering up, the arm touching and the broaching. “What will the company do when he retires” he sighed, “God only knows…”

Good old fashioned networking, where time is spent relaxing over dinner, seamlessly switching between day-to-day stuff, personal stuff and work stuff, provides the fabric for building up rapport, trust and a sense of being wanted and respected. People are far more likely to give and want to be part of something if they are treated well and looked after. But it takes time, effort and skill to know how to network well, something you can’t learn from online chatting. Sending an email to the manager of the marketing department of Adidas or Nescafe, however charming or witty, simply wont cut the mustard. If you want a company to part with their money you need to be mindful of them.

The widespread use of the social media tool, Yammer (over 2 million employees at more than 100,000 companies have used it), that looks like Facebook and Twitter, makes it even easier to not have to talk face-to-face with colleagues. It’s all mediated through the system: “Yammer filters the conversations with Share, Ask, Praise, Event, or Poll prompts. Responses are tracked by most likes, most replies, most posts, trophies, and badges that are consolidated in the Leaderboard.” Whilst one can quickly get a sense of the pulse of the office or the word on the street, by following the numerous ticker streams of online comments, thumbs up and quips, it is not real talk.

It is not just the hospitality business where the art of small talk and face-to-face networking is on the wane. It is happening across all walks of life (as I wax lyrical about in my recent TEDx talk,).

squeezyIn my workplace at UCL we are conducting a study to see whether we can buck the trend by turning a ‘dead’ building, where no one really talks to each other besides the people in their own group, to being more of a curious lived-in building, that encourages people to talk more with each other – even strangers – in the lifts, on the stairs, in the coffee room, etc. about anything. It is called ‘Mood Project Building’ and is being headed by Sarah Gallacher.

floordisplay The project is investigating how physical and playful installations can be used to encourage a greater sense of community and social connectedness within a building. The idea is really simple – to encourage people, as they walk about the building, to squeeze one of a number of coloured squeezy balls that are located in public spaces on each floor of the building to reflect their mood. Are you having a yellow morning? A blue afternoon? The squeezes from the different floors of the building are mapped onto a large LED floor display intended to act as a social meeting place. There people can discover and chat each day about what balls they have squeezed, why floor six is all yellow and then maybe, seamlessly switch into other talk.
anthonysqueeze

So far, the interactive installation has triggered lots of people throughout the building to squeeze the balls, to talk to strangers, to even be subversive and to be curious.

Maybe we could also design a physical interactive installation to get those city guys glued to their screens to take a break and actually talk to one another more in the flesh. You never know one of those impromptu conversations could lead to an unexpected and fruitful collaboration and land them a big client. Goodbye emoticons. Bring on the real smiles.

Hair-raising Hiking

theneedleThe idea of trekking across a tropical island from coast to coast is tantalizing. Especially when it involves traversing a rugged rainforest and hiking up and down a steep mountain in the middle with a magnificent rock on the top with spectacular views of the different sides of the island. This is what the Pacific island of Rarotonga’s cross island trail has to offer. Who could resist the challenge?

We should have had a premonition that it was going to be more than a sightseeing jaunt when we saw, the day before, a bedraggled family flag down the bus we were travelling on at the southern end of the coast path. The mother, covered in mud, was helping her bandaged young son hobble onto the bus, muttering, “that was rather an unsuccessful walk.” But, afflicted with hubris, one thinks that it won’t happen to you. Ha ha.

The walk starts gently for the first couple of kilometers with gob-smacking, larger-than-life ferns, banana trees, palms and other tropical vegetation. You feel dwarfed and can’t help but be in awe. All of a sudden the path gets very steep, with a strenuous ascent through a multitude of knotted arthritic tree roots. It feels like climbing endless, uneven steeple steps. You have to select your next step very carefully to ensure a good footing. Very concentrated, looking-downward, walking.

So we puffed our way up to the rock, known as the Needle, head down most of the time. Finally, we looked up again as we came out of the bush to take in the breath-taking 360 degrees views of the island, its coral reef and surrounding pacific sea. Many people attempt to climb the Needle but my vertigo and creaky knees put a stop to that. I already had a sufficient sense of achievement and did not have the urge to climb any further.

A short stop and then time to continue. The descent is usually easier and faster, accompanied by a mountain goat leaping down approach. How wrong I was. Like the ascent, the path was covered in an unpredictable combination of slippery mud, roots and rocks. However, whereas one can haul oneself up by clutching part of the crochet of roots, it is much trickier jumping down using the same technique. In many places there was no path – just a vertical mudslide drop. They call it a severe scramble in the guidebooks. We had to clamber down by grabbing hold of whatever was at hand above and below to anchor ourselves; shrubbery, old bits of rope, stumps, roots and hanging tree branches, some less firmly attached than others. But the force is propelled downwards and so it is more a matter of monkey-hanging rather than leveraging up. At other times, we had to cross a gushing stream, wading up to our knees, traipsing across mossy immersed boulders.

crossislandwalk2It was quite terrifying, especially when looking over the edge of the path that dropped very steeply into a thicket of the unknown. One slip too many and it could have been tropical curtains…I also had only Adidas plimsolls on which gave very little purchase. Unsurprisingly, I slipped a few times, once rolling head over foot near the edge and landing in an ungainly heap. Towards the end, I was covered in mud and my feet drenched and shriveled from all the wading through the stream.

All of this amounts to a big adventure that boot camp and other outdoor activities organizers would salivate over. Others have blogged about their amazing experiences but for me it was an ordeal. Confronting potential danger certainly gets the adrenalin going but when it gets treacherous it turns into fear.

At the end of the path is a big waterfall and accompanying deep pool. The locals simply drive to it up a tarmac road, get out and waddle over to look at it, play music and maybe dive off the rocks. The contrast between my relief at getting to the end of our momentous trek and the ease with which the locals entertained themselves was palpable.
waterfall