Maps
Saturday, July 10th, 2010
London, Paris, Bruxelles, Amsterdam, Milan, San Francisco. My way.
London, Paris, Bruxelles, Amsterdam, Milan, San Francisco. My way.
Archive for the 'Traveling' Category
Deep city
Thursday, January 14th, 2010
I was fortunate enough to attend the Microsoft Research Social Computing Symposium on “The City as a Platform” in fabulous NYC last week and thought i’d share my Ignite-style talk. This event and talk was an opportunity for me to do 4 things:
- talk about something that’s related to my design interests
- break the Ignite format (as I did with Interesting)
- Reflect on the current discourse around cities (more on that below)
- see friends and meet people I’d not had the opportunity to have a proper chat with before (nod to Christian, Aaron and Adam and Jennifer )
So I had a long hard think about the theme and decided that instead of doing what a lot of internet-types are doing which is to see the city from above (maps and all) or from below (infrastructure and all) or even the surface of it (advertising and LED walls), I was going to focus on what makes my experience of cities (having lived in large ones like Amsterdam, Paris, London, Milan, Montreal) unique and enjoyable. A user’s experience. I quickly realised that most of it had _nothing_ to do with anything technology related. You might argue that by not owning an iPhone (gasp!) I’m missing out. Perhaps, but I’m happy with what I found.
Wanting to highlight these aspects of cities, I did something I hadn’t done in a while: I wrote. I used to love writing fiction in school as a girl and this was a lot of fun. So it kindof ended up as a photo montage of sorts with a piece of text, probably because I’ve been watching La Jetée.
If you manage to guess the order of all the cities pictured, comment below and you win a plate.
Deep city: a tale of the in-linkable
View more documents from Alexandra Deschamps-Sonsino.
Airports. Everything starts with an airport when you start with a city. Bergamo, Heathrow, Gatwick Schipol, JFK, Trudeau. All the same in some ways, all offering the same entry point to a city: a view from above. Sometimes you can see it as clearly as a google map, but often its at night, and it only reveals its glowing downtown, like woven by a moth with luminescent silk.
The sounds. Police sirens, shouting in a market, ambulances, arguing, honking, pigeons, church bells, the sound of a kiss, a pair of high hells on the pavement, the muffled sound of boots through snow or leaves.
Time. The time it takes to have a shower, order coffee, take the underground, metropolitana, subway, train, bus. Waiting there, with some music in your ears perhaps to kill the time, the boredom, chop it off in 3 mn slices. The time to walk your daughter to school, check your email, see a movie, eat a meal with a friend, walk the dog in the park.
The hip place to be, the right café, the right exhibition, the right pub, apperitivo, the right time to get there, 8pm, 10pm, 1am, 3am. The way to order a cocktail, stampot, koffie verkiert, flat white, the right clothes, the right skinny jeans, the right look. Feeling hip, seeing others recognise it.
Fall in love in the subway, in a gallery, in a bar. So much lust and dreams clashing, bumping into each other. The parties, friends gossiping, people jogging at 5am, on Christmas day even, making everyone jealous, old couples ignoring each other at a restaurant.
Sitting in the same café, or maybe a different one. Eavesdropping people talking about their mother, their latest vacation, their aspirations, complaints, gossip, criticism.
Layers of sounds, stories, histories that melt, meet, separate again, never quite belonging to each other.
All the people that make up a city. If no one lived here, would it still earn that title?
Manhattan, Un Americano a Roma, Paris je t’aime, Love Actually, Gotham City, Blade Runner, you’re in a city because you want to be in love. You’re in love with it, with what it could be, with what it isn’t quite. It loves you, rejects you, elevates you, helps you, pushes you forward or away, supports you, allows you to live, to work, to survive, to thrive, to go places, to move on elsewhere, to stay there forever.
The city and its ins and outs. In it, under a roof, in a museum, a factory, an apartment building, a council estate. People stacked on top of each other, never more than 3m apart.The patina of the out, the graffiti, the architecture, the heights of it.
The city where everyone is from everywhere else. It’s constantly trying to be what those people want from a home, made up of foreign words, made up of nostalgia of where they came from and where they are now. Could be anywhere but its here, a patchwork that makes no sense, that doesn’t belong to one time, but every year and every decade is written in brick, in cement, in iron, in wires.
The view. Always the view. You own the city and it owns you. The birds constantly watching over you.
Lights, signage, flickering.I am in a city that I don’t know but recognise. Yellow, blues, greens, black, white, movement, music playing next door. Posters, ads, all telling me what I should care about right now. I glance away, ignoring the glow of information, I’m too busy crossing the street.
Walking. Sense of scale, sense of how long it takes me to get to the end of the block, the end of the line, the end of town. When does the city stop exactly? When there is less? How much less? How much more? I’m going everywhere, and nowhere. Slow things down by walking. Let the scale hit me, look up. Look at how tall it all feels.
I was fortunate enough to attend the Microsoft Research Social Computing Symposium on “The City as a Platform” in fabulous NYC last week and thought i’d share my Ignite-style talk. This event and talk was an opportunity for me to do 4 things:
- talk about something that’s related to my design interests
- break the Ignite format (as I did with Interesting)
- Reflect on the current discourse around cities (more on that below)
- see friends and meet people I’d not had the opportunity to have a proper chat with before (nod to Christian, Aaron and Adam and Jennifer )
So I had a long hard think about the theme and decided that instead of doing what a lot of internet-types are doing which is to see the city from above (maps and all) or from below (infrastructure and all) or even the surface of it (advertising and LED walls), I was going to focus on what makes my experience of cities (having lived in large ones like Amsterdam, Paris, London, Milan, Montreal) unique and enjoyable. A user’s experience. I quickly realised that most of it had _nothing_ to do with anything technology related. You might argue that by not owning an iPhone (gasp!) I’m missing out. Perhaps, but I’m happy with what I found.
Wanting to highlight these aspects of cities, I did something I hadn’t done in a while: I wrote. I used to love writing fiction in school as a girl and this was a lot of fun. So it kindof ended up as a photo montage of sorts with a piece of text, probably because I’ve been watching La Jetée.
If you manage to guess the order of all the cities pictured, comment below and you win a plate.
Deep city: a tale of the in-linkable
View more documents from Alexandra Deschamps-Sonsino.
Airports. Everything starts with an airport when you start with a city. Bergamo, Heathrow, Gatwick Schipol, JFK, Trudeau. All the same in some ways, all offering the same entry point to a city: a view from above. Sometimes you can see it as clearly as a google map, but often its at night, and it only reveals its glowing downtown, like woven by a moth with luminescent silk.
The sounds. Police sirens, shouting in a market, ambulances, arguing, honking, pigeons, church bells, the sound of a kiss, a pair of high hells on the pavement, the muffled sound of boots through snow or leaves.
Time. The time it takes to have a shower, order coffee, take the underground, metropolitana, subway, train, bus. Waiting there, with some music in your ears perhaps to kill the time, the boredom, chop it off in 3 mn slices. The time to walk your daughter to school, check your email, see a movie, eat a meal with a friend, walk the dog in the park.
The hip place to be, the right café, the right exhibition, the right pub, apperitivo, the right time to get there, 8pm, 10pm, 1am, 3am. The way to order a cocktail, stampot, koffie verkiert, flat white, the right clothes, the right skinny jeans, the right look. Feeling hip, seeing others recognise it.
Fall in love in the subway, in a gallery, in a bar. So much lust and dreams clashing, bumping into each other. The parties, friends gossiping, people jogging at 5am, on Christmas day even, making everyone jealous, old couples ignoring each other at a restaurant.
Sitting in the same café, or maybe a different one. Eavesdropping people talking about their mother, their latest vacation, their aspirations, complaints, gossip, criticism.
Layers of sounds, stories, histories that melt, meet, separate again, never quite belonging to each other.
All the people that make up a city. If no one lived here, would it still earn that title?
Manhattan, Un Americano a Roma, Paris je t’aime, Love Actually, Gotham City, Blade Runner, you’re in a city because you want to be in love. You’re in love with it, with what it could be, with what it isn’t quite. It loves you, rejects you, elevates you, helps you, pushes you forward or away, supports you, allows you to live, to work, to survive, to thrive, to go places, to move on elsewhere, to stay there forever.
The city and its ins and outs. In it, under a roof, in a museum, a factory, an apartment building, a council estate. People stacked on top of each other, never more than 3m apart.The patina of the out, the graffiti, the architecture, the heights of it.
The city where everyone is from everywhere else. It’s constantly trying to be what those people want from a home, made up of foreign words, made up of nostalgia of where they came from and where they are now. Could be anywhere but its here, a patchwork that makes no sense, that doesn’t belong to one time, but every year and every decade is written in brick, in cement, in iron, in wires.
The view. Always the view. You own the city and it owns you. The birds constantly watching over you.
Lights, signage, flickering.I am in a city that I don’t know but recognise. Yellow, blues, greens, black, white, movement, music playing next door. Posters, ads, all telling me what I should care about right now. I glance away, ignoring the glow of information, I’m too busy crossing the street.
Walking. Sense of scale, sense of how long it takes me to get to the end of the block, the end of the line, the end of town. When does the city stop exactly? When there is less? How much less? How much more? I’m going everywhere, and nowhere. Slow things down by walking. Let the scale hit me, look up. Look at how tall it all feels.
Mind blowing
Tuesday, September 15th, 2009
A friend was telling me about the desert, so I googled it. never expected to see this.
Makes me want to travel. Now.
A friend was telling me about the desert, so I googled it. never expected to see this.
Makes me want to travel. Now.
Know where you live and where to eat
Sunday, July 19th, 2009
In order to force myself in taking a vacation, (the last time was 2003 which involved a trip backpacking in Spain with my best friend at the time. Unfortunately our friendship never recovered but that’s another story.) I’ve been wasting time trying to find the good places to enjoy significantly fantastic food in the UK. So I’ve essentially been hand-Googling the references from a weekend special edition of the Independant that I simply can’t find online. My intention is to mash it up with the Guardian’s special on Summer Pubs that was published that same weekend. Funnily enough none of this is actually linked or geo-located. I’m pretty sure there’s a much geekier and efficient way of doing this, but it kills the time in the nicest of ways…
Enjoy!
View Les carnets d’Alexandra: UK foodie & drink guide in a larger map
In order to force myself in taking a vacation, (the last time was 2003 which involved a trip backpacking in Spain with my best friend at the time. Unfortunately our friendship never recovered but that’s another story.) I’ve been wasting time trying to find the good places to enjoy significantly fantastic food in the UK. So I’ve essentially been hand-Googling the references from a weekend special edition of the Independant that I simply can’t find online. My intention is to mash it up with the Guardian’s special on Summer Pubs that was published that same weekend. Funnily enough none of this is actually linked or geo-located. I’m pretty sure there’s a much geekier and efficient way of doing this, but it kills the time in the nicest of ways…
Enjoy!
View Les carnets d’Alexandra: UK foodie & drink guide in a larger map
After the Lunch
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009
Lovely poem by Wendy Cope I read in the Underground the other day.
On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across.
Lovely poem by Wendy Cope I read in the Underground the other day.
On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across.
Viva Italia!
Saturday, June 13th, 2009
One way to level up in European immigration as a foreigner is to have an italian parent (my father in this case) as since the mid 90s Italy recognises citizenship for people with parents or grandparents who were born in Italy. This now means I am pretty much free to live in Europe for the rest of my life if I wanted to which makes me extremely happy and makes customs a total breeze as opposed to a semi frantic experience peppered with little white lies.
One way to level up in European immigration as a foreigner is to have an italian parent (my father in this case) as since the mid 90s Italy recognises citizenship for people with parents or grandparents who were born in Italy. This now means I am pretty much free to live in Europe for the rest of my life if I wanted to which makes me extremely happy and makes customs a total breeze as opposed to a semi frantic experience peppered with little white lies.
6:34
Wednesday, June 10th, 2009
This is what happens when you’re in love. In love with where you live. You go through 2 days of Tube strike, you watch the city you love not even make it to the top 50 most liveable cities and generally go to shit with the economy. But it doesn’t matter to you, love is blind and you simply shrug and agree with Orson Welles and the Londonist.
This is what happens when you’re in love. In love with where you live. You go through 2 days of Tube strike, you watch the city you love not even make it to the top 50 most liveable cities and generally go to shit with the economy. But it doesn’t matter to you, love is blind and you simply shrug and agree with Orson Welles and the Londonist.
Traveltag or how we thought of mapping in 2005
Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
I dusted this off of the old Ivrea archives and thought of posting it as the plethora of mapping services and geo locative stuff these days still doesn’t seem to have addressed some of the thoughts that Didier and I were having over the spring of 2005.
The idea was simple: if you’re a tourist, you want to build your own map of the city based on your experience and the experiences of people you’re more likely to agree with. Who are those people? Maybe they’re friends, but most likely they’re strangers…how old are they? I’m probably less likely to agree with what a 20 year old finds cool in terms of restaurants than someone in their 30s. Are there any cool events in town that people have taken pics of? What is near me? What is far away? How could I be excited about seeing something based on random pictures taken today or yesterday? What do people mean when they mean Soho or Greenwich? What are the limits of that space? Can I build my own map? My own experience?
Of course at the time, we thought you’d have a “tag” in different venues that would have signed up to a listing service and for each place I tagged, I’d simply swipe my card over this tag….all thoughts rendered useless with the iPhone. The rest are still a set of ideas that are valid and I hope someone explores them further.
PS: All design was made by Didier Hilhost, CSS guru extraordinaire, I worked on the concept idea and wireframes.
I dusted this off of the old Ivrea archives and thought of posting it as the plethora of mapping services and geo locative stuff these days still doesn’t seem to have addressed some of the thoughts that Didier and I were having over the spring of 2005.
The idea was simple: if you’re a tourist, you want to build your own map of the city based on your experience and the experiences of people you’re more likely to agree with. Who are those people? Maybe they’re friends, but most likely they’re strangers…how old are they? I’m probably less likely to agree with what a 20 year old finds cool in terms of restaurants than someone in their 30s. Are there any cool events in town that people have taken pics of? What is near me? What is far away? How could I be excited about seeing something based on random pictures taken today or yesterday? What do people mean when they mean Soho or Greenwich? What are the limits of that space? Can I build my own map? My own experience?
Of course at the time, we thought you’d have a “tag” in different venues that would have signed up to a listing service and for each place I tagged, I’d simply swipe my card over this tag….all thoughts rendered useless with the iPhone. The rest are still a set of ideas that are valid and I hope someone explores them further.
PS: All design was made by Didier Hilhost, CSS guru extraordinaire, I worked on the concept idea and wireframes.
For ordinary people
Tuesday, December 30th, 2008
This is just the best example of British wit, sarcasm and social commentary.
This is just the best example of British wit, sarcasm and social commentary.
The best things in life are near
Saturday, November 29th, 2008
I just came back from a sort of really stupid back and forth on 6 eurostars in the space of a week…but the friends i got to see again, the meals i got to eat and the events I attended made this a really beautiful week, with the real satisfaction of just traveling by train. The level of exhaustion is really quite different than if i had taken planes.
I hardly had any internet access, haven’t opened my rss reader in weeks and generally enjoying doing some real thinking about my current adventure. I need to do this more often.
I hope you’ll excuse me for the lack of new content, in light of this…I’ll come up with something witty soon, I swear!
I just came back from a sort of really stupid back and forth on 6 eurostars in the space of a week…but the friends i got to see again, the meals i got to eat and the events I attended made this a really beautiful week, with the real satisfaction of just traveling by train. The level of exhaustion is really quite different than if i had taken planes.
I hardly had any internet access, haven’t opened my rss reader in weeks and generally enjoying doing some real thinking about my current adventure. I need to do this more often.
I hope you’ll excuse me for the lack of new content, in light of this…I’ll come up with something witty soon, I swear!
Sugar-coated city: the real Singapore
Sunday, July 27th, 2008
I’m writing this, half thinking I should probably wait to leave the country.
Walking through Singapore, you cannot but wonder who really lives here. Impeccable streets (and I really mean impeccable, not a single piece of rubbish on any lawn or anywhere), very little public space or street benches, ads on the telly about parental planning, and an airconed shopping mall at every corner.
A friend of mine called it “the most american city in Asia” and I think that’s probably true in the 1984 sense of the word America.
The Wikipedia page is strangely absent of any political history section and Google reeks of not so happy reports on what the situation might be like and how people have been taught to feel about it. I met a few people this weekend who went to jail or had been arrested for what seemed like quite foolish reasons.
All slightly unsettling. I leave tomorrow evening.
I’m writing this, half thinking I should probably wait to leave the country.
Walking through Singapore, you cannot but wonder who really lives here. Impeccable streets (and I really mean impeccable, not a single piece of rubbish on any lawn or anywhere), very little public space or street benches, ads on the telly about parental planning, and an airconed shopping mall at every corner.
A friend of mine called it “the most american city in Asia” and I think that’s probably true in the 1984 sense of the word America.
The Wikipedia page is strangely absent of any political history section and Google reeks of not so happy reports on what the situation might be like and how people have been taught to feel about it. I met a few people this weekend who went to jail or had been arrested for what seemed like quite foolish reasons.
All slightly unsettling. I leave tomorrow evening.
If you’re going to San Francisco…
Thursday, July 17th, 2008
A by-product of traveling so much as a child was that I ended up learning English in an American schoolin Kuwait and have never been able to shake off the middle of the road accent that came with it. This makes for interesting conversations with bewildered Americans who can’t believe I’m Canadian and that my mother tongue is actually French. Perhaps that’s what I resent the most when I travel to the US: I can blend in so perfectly. I’m used to sticking out like a sore thumb in Europe and there’s something nice about that, it keeps me eager to learn about local flavours and let them rub off on me.
I’m also the first to admit that I greet everything American with an unhealthy dose of cynicism which would explain why an 8 day trip to San Francisco wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to (11h flight from London, argh). Everyone around me, especially Matt, has always been a big fan claiming that SF and NYC “weren’t like the rest of America” and were much more European. In hindsight, I would have settled for “nice” instead and let the city impress me on its own for what it was. Here are a few random suggestions of things you might not have accounted for:
1. IT GETS COLD
“Due to its sharp topography and maritime influences, San Francisco exhibits a multitude of distinct microclimates. “
There’s a little phenomenon called fog that somehow people forget to mention. Huge and fluffy fog rolling down from the top of the city’s hills downward, lowering the temperature dramatically in mid-afternoon. Doesn’t matter if it’s mid-July, it’ll get cold, trust me. Bring layers.
2. RENT A CAR
The city is essentially made to be driven through, most blocks being quite short and interrupted by 4 lane, 2 way streets, making the number of interactions with cars quite frequent. Biking isn’t out of the question, but the rolling hills are really steep, so a car comes in handy if you want to see more than your neighbourhood. If you don’t rent a car, expect to spend your time hailing taxis or mostly looking for them. Having the exact address of where you’re going to helps as taxi drivers don’t need to know the city very well to get a license and you’ll get the odd n00b who will charge you 40 dollars because he got lost.
3. DON’T STAY DOWNTOWN
“Nestled between successful commercial areas and high priced residential areas, parts of the Tenderloin have historically resisted gentrification, maintaining a seedy character and reputation for crime.”
Unlike most cities, the area which one might assume is the most touristy, is adjacent to a poverty and crime ridden area that will make any Parisian suburban ghetto look like a walk in the park. Stay in Hayes Valley or in the Mission.
4. GET A COMPLETE MAP OF THE CITY
Somewhat related to the point above, the city’s downtown area is actually not the most interesting, and the nice walkable parts of the city are a little more southward.
5. GET A COFFEE AND CHECK YOUR EMAIL
This is of course the best wifi-friendly place by far but be prepared to have to sit in a caffé to have access to it. Not that many consumption-free environments in general. Some cities are good at public space (benches, parks, etc), this isn’t one of them.
6. DON’T LOOK FOR ONE STYLE
From winding streets, 40 degree hills, silli cake-like art-deco mansions and refurbished cinemas, this city has been influenced by many an earthquake, fire and economic ups and downs, making every street a different and totally unexpected experience.
A by-product of traveling so much as a child was that I ended up learning English in an American schoolin Kuwait and have never been able to shake off the middle of the road accent that came with it. This makes for interesting conversations with bewildered Americans who can’t believe I’m Canadian and that my mother tongue is actually French. Perhaps that’s what I resent the most when I travel to the US: I can blend in so perfectly. I’m used to sticking out like a sore thumb in Europe and there’s something nice about that, it keeps me eager to learn about local flavours and let them rub off on me.
I’m also the first to admit that I greet everything American with an unhealthy dose of cynicism which would explain why an 8 day trip to San Francisco wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to (11h flight from London, argh). Everyone around me, especially Matt, has always been a big fan claiming that SF and NYC “weren’t like the rest of America” and were much more European. In hindsight, I would have settled for “nice” instead and let the city impress me on its own for what it was. Here are a few random suggestions of things you might not have accounted for:
1. IT GETS COLD
“Due to its sharp topography and maritime influences, San Francisco exhibits a multitude of distinct microclimates. “
There’s a little phenomenon called fog that somehow people forget to mention. Huge and fluffy fog rolling down from the top of the city’s hills downward, lowering the temperature dramatically in mid-afternoon. Doesn’t matter if it’s mid-July, it’ll get cold, trust me. Bring layers.
2. RENT A CAR
The city is essentially made to be driven through, most blocks being quite short and interrupted by 4 lane, 2 way streets, making the number of interactions with cars quite frequent. Biking isn’t out of the question, but the rolling hills are really steep, so a car comes in handy if you want to see more than your neighbourhood. If you don’t rent a car, expect to spend your time hailing taxis or mostly looking for them. Having the exact address of where you’re going to helps as taxi drivers don’t need to know the city very well to get a license and you’ll get the odd n00b who will charge you 40 dollars because he got lost.
3. DON’T STAY DOWNTOWN
“Nestled between successful commercial areas and high priced residential areas, parts of the Tenderloin have historically resisted gentrification, maintaining a seedy character and reputation for crime.”
Unlike most cities, the area which one might assume is the most touristy, is adjacent to a poverty and crime ridden area that will make any Parisian suburban ghetto look like a walk in the park. Stay in Hayes Valley or in the Mission.
4. GET A COMPLETE MAP OF THE CITY
Somewhat related to the point above, the city’s downtown area is actually not the most interesting, and the nice walkable parts of the city are a little more southward.
5. GET A COFFEE AND CHECK YOUR EMAIL
This is of course the best wifi-friendly place by far but be prepared to have to sit in a caffé to have access to it. Not that many consumption-free environments in general. Some cities are good at public space (benches, parks, etc), this isn’t one of them.
6. DON’T LOOK FOR ONE STYLE
From winding streets, 40 degree hills, silli cake-like art-deco mansions and refurbished cinemas, this city has been influenced by many an earthquake, fire and economic ups and downs, making every street a different and totally unexpected experience.
Fighting the war against terror by blowing air up your shirt
Wednesday, July 16th, 2008
Just went through 2 “secondary security” checks at San Francisco airport today and got introduced to this delightful contraption.
“To collect microscopic particles for analysis, the EntryScan3 takes advantage of a natural upward airflow around the body called the “human convection plume.” By not using forced airflow from a fan-which stirs up dust and other contaminants-cleaner samples are collected.”
What this means is that you walk into this box with glass doors on one end and without warning they will spray you with air quickly and at every angle. Not only is it really scary and unexpected, but you also get the added pleasure of having it blow your shirt upwards… not usually what you’re looking for from a security device.
Gotta love the US.
Just went through 2 “secondary security” checks at San Francisco airport today and got introduced to this delightful contraption.
“To collect microscopic particles for analysis, the EntryScan3 takes advantage of a natural upward airflow around the body called the “human convection plume.” By not using forced airflow from a fan-which stirs up dust and other contaminants-cleaner samples are collected.”
What this means is that you walk into this box with glass doors on one end and without warning they will spray you with air quickly and at every angle. Not only is it really scary and unexpected, but you also get the added pleasure of having it blow your shirt upwards… not usually what you’re looking for from a security device.
Gotta love the US.
I am a duck
Saturday, June 21st, 2008
Just to cheer me up… here’s some of the latest lovely things from Dopplr
Just to cheer me up… here’s some of the latest lovely things from Dopplr
Feeling safe in airports
Sunday, May 25th, 2008
Coming back from a trip to Israel reminded me about what it used to be like to commute to and from Kuwait and Saudi Arabia in the 90s when I was young. There’s lot of stuff about sur and sousveillance and much digital ink has been spilt on the subject of security and fear, but airport interactions in 2008 either make you feel safe, afraid, frustrated or bored. From the long cues at Heathrow where you really feel you are wasting your time and might never see your luggage again, to the other end of the spectrum, embodied by my experience with El Al.
The whole thing started because I was late. The truth is I hate flying long-haul as I get completely bored and usually drive Matt insane after a few hours. Living and traveling around Europe, I never usually have to deal with that particular issue as most flight last under 2 hours. A glorified bus.
After a number of poor timing and transportation decisions around London, I showed up at the El Al counter an hour before the flight. I immediately knew I was in trouble as the young assistants (one seemed to be about 19) started questioning me quite thouroughly: “Where are you going in Israel”, “Who do you know there”, “How long have you known them”, “Where did you study”, “What do you do”. This didnt feel like anything you’d get out of the Ryanair staff. The young women (there were 3 of them at that point) were looking at me quite intently as if they had already made up their mind that I was a danger to their airline and by extention, their country. There was absolutely no agressive behaviour, the tone of voice was not raised, but the suspicion lay under the surface. They then proceeded to put my luggage (I hadn’t checked in at that point you must remember) through an x-ray machine larger than your average kitchen. Something in my laptop bag disturbed one of the young women and she asked for it to be scanned at least 5 other times. My check-in luggage was then carefully put on a table, as one of the other young women proceeded to ask me more questions about where I had lived and tell me a bit about her own travel, opened, all carefully packed items removed one by one, inspected and swabbed for explosives.
I settled into a state I can only describe as submissive as my future clearly lay in their hands.
They then proceeded to tell me that my hand luggage would be waiting for me at the gate (this implied they didnt want me to add anything to it before I got into the plane) and that I had to get to the gate as fast as possible (ie “run Alex run”) because the flight was leaving soon. So with little other than my passport, boarding pass and iPod, I sprinted through El Al’s dedicated security line guarded by a policeman (soldier?) holding a machine gun.
I ran like my life depended on it across the terminal only to get to the gate and have to go through body search and x-ray all over again. At that point it was clear the flight had been delayed, so panting and coughing, I relaxed at last.
I guess at the time I booked my tickets, I had wanted to make it a more authentic experience and never thought I would get in the plane with respect for a country and a company I had never encountered before. Safety and security at it’s most literal level.
Coming back from a trip to Israel reminded me about what it used to be like to commute to and from Kuwait and Saudi Arabia in the 90s when I was young. There’s lot of stuff about sur and sousveillance and much digital ink has been spilt on the subject of security and fear, but airport interactions in 2008 either make you feel safe, afraid, frustrated or bored. From the long cues at Heathrow where you really feel you are wasting your time and might never see your luggage again, to the other end of the spectrum, embodied by my experience with El Al.
The whole thing started because I was late. The truth is I hate flying long-haul as I get completely bored and usually drive Matt insane after a few hours. Living and traveling around Europe, I never usually have to deal with that particular issue as most flight last under 2 hours. A glorified bus.
After a number of poor timing and transportation decisions around London, I showed up at the El Al counter an hour before the flight. I immediately knew I was in trouble as the young assistants (one seemed to be about 19) started questioning me quite thouroughly: “Where are you going in Israel”, “Who do you know there”, “How long have you known them”, “Where did you study”, “What do you do”. This didnt feel like anything you’d get out of the Ryanair staff. The young women (there were 3 of them at that point) were looking at me quite intently as if they had already made up their mind that I was a danger to their airline and by extention, their country. There was absolutely no agressive behaviour, the tone of voice was not raised, but the suspicion lay under the surface. They then proceeded to put my luggage (I hadn’t checked in at that point you must remember) through an x-ray machine larger than your average kitchen. Something in my laptop bag disturbed one of the young women and she asked for it to be scanned at least 5 other times. My check-in luggage was then carefully put on a table, as one of the other young women proceeded to ask me more questions about where I had lived and tell me a bit about her own travel, opened, all carefully packed items removed one by one, inspected and swabbed for explosives.
I settled into a state I can only describe as submissive as my future clearly lay in their hands.
They then proceeded to tell me that my hand luggage would be waiting for me at the gate (this implied they didnt want me to add anything to it before I got into the plane) and that I had to get to the gate as fast as possible (ie “run Alex run”) because the flight was leaving soon. So with little other than my passport, boarding pass and iPod, I sprinted through El Al’s dedicated security line guarded by a policeman (soldier?) holding a machine gun.
I ran like my life depended on it across the terminal only to get to the gate and have to go through body search and x-ray all over again. At that point it was clear the flight had been delayed, so panting and coughing, I relaxed at last.
I guess at the time I booked my tickets, I had wanted to make it a more authentic experience and never thought I would get in the plane with respect for a country and a company I had never encountered before. Safety and security at it’s most literal level.
