Growth or Decay?
There are a lot of variables in the following ruminations, so take it for what it is — my ignorance.
Valencia is an interesting city, as I’ve said or hinted at a few times already. It’s not stuck in the past the way parts of Paris can feel. There are old narrow streets and four-story apartment blocks from the 1800s; but there are also newer and older things mixed in. Everything in Valencia isn’t so uniformly perfect as Paris can be either. Modern architecture was invented here, so they celebrate the new, the old, and the older, and you can see all of it within touching distance of one another — a mid-century modern architectural wonder, a 15th century church in restoration, and a crumbling abandoned apartment block that someone stopped tearing down in mid-job (see this short video).
All of that is to say, it’s hard to tell what’s going on. Is the city growing or fading? Is it pursuing growth in one direction and letting another part go? Is there really any order at all? I don’t know, and I don’t think I will until I am much more fluent in Spanish.
Down by the beach in the north end of Valencia proper, you find Malvarrosa and Cabanyal. There are forgotten and reclaimed old buildings from when they were separate fishing villages, before joining the city. Right on the beachfront — well, a logical distance from the beachfront, because Valencia isn’t stupid about their seashore — there are gorgeous large homes, and two blocks away you find abandoned blocks of similar structures. It’s hard to know if those will remain abandoned or eventually be rehabbed and become part of the neighborhood.
I found a similar thing south along the marina, in an area that’s more recently known as Nazaret. There are neighborhood places, but also high-rise new construction, which will have lovely views and an easy connection to the rest of the city. Is this the direction the city will grow, or will these buildings end up abandoned hulks forever awaiting a hipster revival that never comes?
I see evidence of both directions around town. Today in one leisurely bike ride, I passed a wide area of scrub to the left — easily defining the edge of town — and weirdly modern stacked apartments to the right, sporting multiple balconies and an obvious green-construction vibe. I saw what looked like an ambitious wine-making venture that was abandoned and left standing. Are each of these just signs of growing pains? It’s hard to know.
I’m an American. I don’t love it, but I need to admit it. When I ride my bike through literally miles (goddamnit, kilometers!) of public park known as the Turia, I hear Jane Jacobs in my ear saying parks can be good or bad; I see shadows of Cabrini Green and the Robert Taylor homes that just aren’t there, I hope.
Is there really enough sustainable growth for both of those projects — the rehabbing and the new — to succeed? I admit to being an ignorant American. I’m looking at an ancient city with a lens that can’t comprehend centuries, much less millennia, of history. I’m trying to understand the growth/death of neighborhoods and industry with little context. I’m trying to squeeze American ideas into a very non-American world. I am optimistically hoping all of this means that the good will just keep getting better and the decay is just part of regrowth.
