Arriving in Berlin, I was
immediately struck by the sheer livability of this city. Even as a foreigner,
it is apparent to me how easy it is to function here. Everything from
transportation to drinking laws is designed FOR the people, not against them. The
entire city is constructed with its inhabitants in mind, and although that
should be standard procedure, in most cities, this is not the case.
Take, for example, an empty lot. Rather
than allowing the highest bidder to take the land and run (and build yet
another empty high rise, as they would surely do in Miami), they open up the space to design students all over
the city. They turn it into a contest for them to come up with the best designs and uses of
space for the lot. Once they have chosen a few of the best, they will present them to the
inhabitants of the neighborhood for them to decide which they prefer. The people
have a say, because they live there and their happiness matters to the city of
Berlin. This kind of thing would be virtually unheard of in the States, or at
least in South Florida where I live. In the U.S., money matters more than
people. It’s as simple as that.
My lovely host Benjamin brought me to a giant abandoned airfield just south of the city on Sunday afternoon. Although the airport itself, Flughafen Berlin-Tempelhof, is still considered “the mother of all airports” because of it's enormous size, the city shut it down one year ago. The airport no longer abides by certain national codes and the city has since replaced it with a new airport. What is to come of the space? It’s been handed to the people, of course. For now, you can roller blade down the enormous runway, picnic anywhere on the massive airfield, or fly your kite to your heart’s delight. In a few years, there will be a new library in the park, and a few additional water features for beautification. But for the most part, it will remain as it is: a huge space accessible to the Berlin public.
Yet, the city has given Berliners
the chance to make their mark on the land. In one corner of the airfield, hundreds
of people have built their own garden plots out of whatever used materials they
can find: bath tubs, grocery carts, cardboard boxes, pallets, scrap wood, and
anything else you can imagine. I even saw one garden constructed completely out
of old shoes! To participate, all one has to do is sign up online. Oh, and
there’s one other tenet to abide by: the gardeners must be sure to make a seated
space for two people to enjoy their plot. The result is simply magical: a jerry-rigged
mishmash of plants spilling out of drainage tube and cowboy boots!
Walking around
the community garden, I was in heaven. Tons of children were running around,
climbing on structures set up just for that reason. Some plots had bee hives
tucked away amidst raised beds full of flowering nasturtiums and overripe tomatoes
having reached the end of their days. And everywhere I ventured, every corner I
explored, I found people –people sitting and reading in solitude, or picnicking
and laughing with friends; but everyone I came across was simply enjoying this
special space.
I can’t think of a place in Miami where I could go for a similar experience. Any place with any culture or beauty, usually comes at a price. And even so, the accessible natural beauty in our city is highly limited. Unless you want to brave the parking madness on Miami Beach, or trek to Oleta River State Park 14 miles outside of the city, you’re pretty much out of luck. I think about my own neighborhood of Coconut Grove, which I love dearly. We’re probably one of the only places with a sense of community and open park space to be enjoyed by all. And yet, Kennedy Park is a joke compared to most other city parks. Today, I went for an uninterrupted 7km run through beautiful parkland in the middle of the city. I ask you: where, oh where, would that be possible in our city? Nowhere.
