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I would rather take a train to the office than drive. And given reasonable options, I would rather take a train than get on a plane. I like trains. So by default, it means that I'm interested in Christopher Beanland's new book, Station. In it, he profiles some of the best railway architecture from the 20th and 21st centuries. Places like Union Station in Los Angeles, Hauptbanhof in Berlin, and Byappanahalli in Bengaluru. But as cool as these places are on their own, I think it's important to keep in mind that trains exist as part of a network. And like all transport, they promote time-space convergence. This is part of what makes these spaces so interesting -- they're like a portal to somewhere else.
The founder and Editor-in-Chief of Monocle Magazine, Tyler Brûle, recently had a nice trip to Ottawa:
If you’ve never been to Ottawa, don’t bother. Of all the G7 capitals, it’s one that hardly conjures up much in the way of attractive images. Don’t believe me? Try it. What comes to mind? What stands out? You see what I mean? No Big Ben, no Lincoln Memorial, no Eiffel Tower. Ottawa might have had an easier time when Germany was partitioned and Bonn was its capital but that credit ran out when Berlin was reinstated as Haúptstadt and the Brandenburg Gate roared back as a symbol for the Federal Republic’s capital.
He and his mom also thoroughly enjoyed their hotel:
We walked into the bar and the whole space seemed gripped by a similar force that plagued the front desk: no speed, movement or sense of urgency. A man-child showed us to the table and barely said a word. His colleagues at the bar were having their own discussion, disconnected from the patrons around them. I started to laugh. My mother urged me to stop. “It’s incredible that this is the best that our country can do for people coming to the capital, no?” I said.
As an unabashedly proud Canadian, this is deeply upsetting. It is upsetting because a lack of movement, a lack of urgency, and an overall lack of engagement are truly terrible qualities to possess. But more importantly, it is upsetting because one could argue that Tyler's Ottawa and hotel experiences were a microcosm of some broader national issues around Canadian complacency.
I would rather take a train to the office than drive. And given reasonable options, I would rather take a train than get on a plane. I like trains. So by default, it means that I'm interested in Christopher Beanland's new book, Station. In it, he profiles some of the best railway architecture from the 20th and 21st centuries. Places like Union Station in Los Angeles, Hauptbanhof in Berlin, and Byappanahalli in Bengaluru. But as cool as these places are on their own, I think it's important to keep in mind that trains exist as part of a network. And like all transport, they promote time-space convergence. This is part of what makes these spaces so interesting -- they're like a portal to somewhere else.
The founder and Editor-in-Chief of Monocle Magazine, Tyler Brûle, recently had a nice trip to Ottawa:
If you’ve never been to Ottawa, don’t bother. Of all the G7 capitals, it’s one that hardly conjures up much in the way of attractive images. Don’t believe me? Try it. What comes to mind? What stands out? You see what I mean? No Big Ben, no Lincoln Memorial, no Eiffel Tower. Ottawa might have had an easier time when Germany was partitioned and Bonn was its capital but that credit ran out when Berlin was reinstated as Haúptstadt and the Brandenburg Gate roared back as a symbol for the Federal Republic’s capital.
He and his mom also thoroughly enjoyed their hotel:
We walked into the bar and the whole space seemed gripped by a similar force that plagued the front desk: no speed, movement or sense of urgency. A man-child showed us to the table and barely said a word. His colleagues at the bar were having their own discussion, disconnected from the patrons around them. I started to laugh. My mother urged me to stop. “It’s incredible that this is the best that our country can do for people coming to the capital, no?” I said.
As an unabashedly proud Canadian, this is deeply upsetting. It is upsetting because a lack of movement, a lack of urgency, and an overall lack of engagement are truly terrible qualities to possess. But more importantly, it is upsetting because one could argue that Tyler's Ottawa and hotel experiences were a microcosm of some broader national issues around Canadian complacency.
“If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.”
--Anthony Bourdain
My general recipe for travel is as follows: I want to see cool architecture, I want to eat good food, and I want to get a local sense for the place. Meaning, I'd ideally like to hang out with locals and learn from them. What's it really like, here?
Because of this, I've never been one to over schedule on trips. There will be things I absolutely want to see and do, but I always want to make sure that there's time for the unknown.
I think you want to walk into places that you don't have on your list, sit at the bar, and have a conversation with the person behind it. You will learn things, and maybe it'll set you on a travel journey that you couldn't have possibly planned back home.
That said, guides are still helpful for things like architecture and food. But I have never found general purpose guides -- like the ones from Frommer's -- to be of any use. They have too much information that isn't curated.
When I was in my early 20s, I used to use the Wallpaper* City Guides. They were small. I would mark them up as I went. And they gave me the list of must-see architecture. More recently, I've been relying on Monocle's Travel Guides. They're great too.
But I am now also a fan of Toronto-based ÅVONTUURA and the architecture guides that they produce. They are simple and beautiful pamphlets that give you a map of each city; a breakdown of contemporary, modern, and historic architecture; a recommended route through the city; and a full list of the important buildings, including their architects.
The founder of Avontuura, Karl van Es, was kind enough to send me their entire set, which as of this month includes new guides for Amsterdam, Berlin, Singapore, and Toronto. Thank you, Karl.
I'm now looking forward to trying one of these out on a future trip. I'm going to use it to decide what architecture I want to visit and, for the rest, I'll just do what I normally like to do -- wing it.
P.S. It took me multiple attempts of tossing these guides onto my kitchen counter in order to arrive at the above photo. I hope you like it.
“If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.”
--Anthony Bourdain
My general recipe for travel is as follows: I want to see cool architecture, I want to eat good food, and I want to get a local sense for the place. Meaning, I'd ideally like to hang out with locals and learn from them. What's it really like, here?
Because of this, I've never been one to over schedule on trips. There will be things I absolutely want to see and do, but I always want to make sure that there's time for the unknown.
I think you want to walk into places that you don't have on your list, sit at the bar, and have a conversation with the person behind it. You will learn things, and maybe it'll set you on a travel journey that you couldn't have possibly planned back home.
That said, guides are still helpful for things like architecture and food. But I have never found general purpose guides -- like the ones from Frommer's -- to be of any use. They have too much information that isn't curated.
When I was in my early 20s, I used to use the Wallpaper* City Guides. They were small. I would mark them up as I went. And they gave me the list of must-see architecture. More recently, I've been relying on Monocle's Travel Guides. They're great too.
But I am now also a fan of Toronto-based ÅVONTUURA and the architecture guides that they produce. They are simple and beautiful pamphlets that give you a map of each city; a breakdown of contemporary, modern, and historic architecture; a recommended route through the city; and a full list of the important buildings, including their architects.
The founder of Avontuura, Karl van Es, was kind enough to send me their entire set, which as of this month includes new guides for Amsterdam, Berlin, Singapore, and Toronto. Thank you, Karl.
I'm now looking forward to trying one of these out on a future trip. I'm going to use it to decide what architecture I want to visit and, for the rest, I'll just do what I normally like to do -- wing it.
P.S. It took me multiple attempts of tossing these guides onto my kitchen counter in order to arrive at the above photo. I hope you like it.
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