Subscribe
Traveling is one of my favorite things in life. But sometimes the process of getting to where you want to go can be suboptimal. Thursday was one of those days. Bianca and I were flying Air France to Paris and then had a connection to the south. But about 5 hours into our flight, they shut off all the TVs and informed us that, due to a technical issue with the plane, we'd be making an emergency landing in either Dublin or Brest (in northwest France). The technical issue was an unidentified burning smell.
We ended up at Brest Bretagne Airport and got the opportunity to explore this small and almost food-less airport for about 10 hours. For some reason, they had to split our flight into two planes. So what Air France did was fly a special plane to Brest to pick up and fly group number one to Paris, fly it back to Brest to pick up group number two, and then return to Paris. We were in group number two. By the time we arrived in Paris it was close to midnight local time and we had, naturally, missed our connection a long time ago.
Air France was great, though. They set us up in a nice hotel (Pullman by Accor), gave us boxed dinners, toiletry bags, and complimentary Air France t-shirts, and scheduled us on a new flight first thing in the morning. But then, airport staff found an unidentified bag at Charles de Gaulle. So naturally, the airport went into lockdown. I later learned that when situations like this happen, and they can’t figure out who the bag belongs to, they will often use something known as a water cannon disruptor to neutralize what could be a bomb.
As I understand it, the way it works is it shoots out a high-velocity jet of water that rips through the bag and any possible wires and switches before they have time to detonate any explosives. Most of the time it’s just a bag that somebody carelessly forgot at the airport, but you never know. Safety first. Apparently this happens relatively often at large airports like CDG.
Once that safety protocol was complete, and the bang of the cannon had gone off, we were on our way, only to discover that we had already missed the last airport train. So the final leg of our journey to Paris ended up being us splitting an Uber with a nice French woman who was just in Toronto visiting a host family that she lived with to learn English. That was our travel "day."
But now that the traveling part is over, it's time for the fun bits. So, what can you expect on this blog?
As usual, I'll be posting daily. But expect more travel-related content and photoblogs. The laser distance measuring of impossibly narrow streets. Gratuitous posts about European-style urbanism. A comprehensive review of the "aparthotel" we booked in Paris (which also happens to be a real estate asset class that I'm increasingly interested in). And likely some takeaways from the meetings I have scheduled with French architects and developers.
Enjoy the long weekend, everyone.
Cover photo taken at Brest Bretagne Airport during our 10-hour layover
I'm not actually sure what the official name is for this kind of bag. Is it a shopping cart, shopping trolley or something else? The answer likely depends on where you are. Whatever it is, the September issue of Monocle has a feature on Spanish shopping trolley maker Rolser.
And for it, they photographed a bunch of cool urbanites with their trolleys, and then asked them: What's in your Rolser? See above photo. Supposedly, or at least according to the company, about 63% of Spanish households have a Rolser in their house.
This is interesting. Because in my part of the world, the percentage would be low. In fact, there are stigmas around them. Many people associate grocery carts with elderly people and sometimes with people who can't afford a car. But that's the wrong way to think about this bag.
It's actually a built environment association. The correct framing is: Are you urban enough to be able to use one? Because they're very common throughout Europe. Here, for example, is Paris, where they're called a chariot de courses or a sac à roulettes.
All of this has me thinking two things. One, our household is overdue for one. And two, this is an opportunity. These are utilitarian and often stigmatized objects that could very easily be reframed into a lifestyle design object for urban cities around the world. (Though, to be fair, the Rolser pictured above looks pretty good.)
The only prerequisite is a walkable urban environment. Maybe it's time that Globizen gets into the city roller business. Or maybe one of you can just run with this idea and then I can buy one.
Photo: Monocle
Back in the spring, I wrote about a small social housing project in Paris at 18 rue Pradier. And the reason I wrote about it is because it's one of those beautiful European projects that makes every city builder in North America wonder: Why don't we build projects like this?
I mean, it's nicer than most market-rate housing projects.
As part of my post, I did some internet sleuthing to find out the site area, the gross construction area, and what appeared to be the land price. But it was a modest piece. Thankfully, developer Brendan Whitsitt (of Imprint Development) just published a far more comprehensive summary of the project.
In it, he pieces together the building's mechanical systems, the wall assemblies, the project costs, and even the capital stack. He also compares everything back to what's typical and allowable by code here in Toronto. It's well worth a read.
However, I am going to spoil the punchline: Building in Europe is not cheaper. 18 rue Pradier is a beautiful — but very expensive — project. It only works because of subsidies. No private-sector developer would build it otherwise.
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
