Even in the context of a huge and under-appreciated continent, La Paz, Bolivia’s high-altitude administrative capital, is something of an obscurity. Most travelers barely pass through for a stopover en route to the jewel-like mineral lakes, fuming volcanoes, and the lunar salt flats at Uyuni. All that is about to change.
Ignore what you’ve heard about the city’s lack of obvious attractions. Forget about the protests that used to regularly shut down the colonial center. And cast away all your doubts about the food: notoriously bland mountains of meat and potatoes, washed down with tepid coke or a passable lager called Paceña.
Thanks to an unprecedented period of political stability and peace (courtesy of the country’s first indigenous president, Evo Morales), improved infrastructure, and a bonafide culinary revolution spearheaded by the co-founder of Copenhagen’s Noma, La Paz is ready for its moment in the spotlight. (more…)
Madhya Pradesh, which roughly translates as ‘Heart Land’, is both superlative and peculiarly untouched. In the state’s eastern wilderness, peacocks wander wild through teak forests and tigers prowl through several of the country’s best wildlife sanctuaries. To the north, the 10th-century temples of Khajuraho, covered in ecstatic erotic sculpture, are reminders of India’s ancient artistic heritage and rich history of sexual diversity, so different from its conservative present moment. In the centre are grand mosques and holy rivers, millennia-old Buddhist monuments and Paleolithic cave paintings – so much of the subcontinent’s unimaginably long history compressed into a single, vastly under-appreciated region. (more…)
My first visit to a Fairway was in the fall of 2006 sometime during my orientation week at Columbia. Set in a giant warehouse under the 12th Avenue Viaduct, the Harlem Fairway felt urban and industrial and entirely unlike the big chain grocers—Giant, Safeway, later Wegman’s—of my ur-suburban childhood outside Baltimore. (more…)
There’s no avoiding it: Dhaka is an ugly city. Its streets are constantly clogged, the glacial pace of its traffic set by an army of cycle-rickshaws half a million strong. Buildings rise from narrow plots, leaning wearily against one another. The first time I arrived was on one of the big steamers that carry passengers upriver from the south, where I’d been reporting for a week, and disgorges them onto the old city’s haggard, sagging jetties in the dark early hours of the morning. The chaos and noise and heat of the riverside pervade the city. Dhaka makes Mumbai look like Paris — until, that is, you look a bit closer. (more…)
I first moved to Bandra about three and a half years ago. I’d spent the previous six months in a fancy flat in a gated highrise in a part of Lalbaug they called Parel principally for the sake of real estate developers and the clients they hoped to attract. It was a nice enough place and I hated it: the marble lobbies and having to give my apartment number every time I came in and the children who seemed to multiply by the week so that the pool, meant to be one of the building’s main selling points, seemed always to be overflowing with them. (more…)
ABOUT 45 MINUTES NORTH of Ahmedabad, having passed under a sign that announces your impending arrival in “GREEN CLEAN GANDHINAGAR” and another advertising Pandit Deendayal Petroleum University, you may or may not notice a small placard with the word “GIFT” printed over an arrow pointing east. Follow that arrow down a dusty access road, past a rusted-out advertisement for an amusement park called Gujarat Funworld, which looks decidedly un-fun. Within 15 minutes, you’ll reach Gujarat International Finance Tec-City, or GIFT—a place, a video on its website proudly proclaims, “where wealth breeds wealth.” (more…)
Australian architect and designer Sian Pascale first arrived in Maheshwar in July 2012 with a commission to convert a disused bus shelter into a handloom school for young weavers. Pascale had only recently relocated from her native Melbourne to Mumbai, where, through a series of off-hand introductions, she met Sally Holkar, the American woman who had spent the last 40 years revitalizing Maheshwar’s rich handloom traditions. “I met Sally at the Bombay Gym expecting to design a handbag or something for [Holkar’s NGO] WomenWeave,” Sian remembers. “I walked out with my first solo architectural project.” (more…)
From the flat, straight country road that heads from the northern Bangladeshi town of Gaibandha to the banks of the Jamuna River, the Friendship Centre looks like little more than a mound of grass and a volume of red brick looking over the low-lying rice paddies across the way. Standing atop that mound (really a 10-foot embankment), you’ll have an entirely different view: a series of red brick pavilions and courtyards capped with flat, grassy rooftops that, from here, looks subterranean, figuratively unearthed.
“Buddhist monasteries are all around this place from the seventh, eighth, ninth centuries—all in brick, all in ruins,” says the Kashef Chowdhury, the Dhaka-based architect whose firm, Urbana, designed and built the two-acre project for a miniscule budget of just tk.4 crores. Those monasteries are a clear point of reference for the Centre, built as a training facility for an NGO called Friendship back in 2010, but the impulse to dig, to excavate a contemporary architecture from the earth, is as essential to Bangladesh’s rich modernist history as the invention of Chandigarh has been to India’s. (more…)
If people have one complaint about life in Mumbai – and most people have many more than that – it’s the lack of connectivity. It’s no great secret that India’s largest city is suffocating under the pressures of overpopulation, crumbling infrastructure and traffic that can turn a taxi into a torture chamber. Nor is it any great secret that Delhi has responded to Mumbai’s example by spreading like a cloud of nuclear fallout, developing a robust infrastructure of highways and metro lines to connect the sprawl of gated low-rise residential colonies. (more…)
“My clients are getting younger as I’m getting older, which is nice,” says Rahul Mehrotra, his perfectly round glasses propped above his forehead. He smiles warmly through his neatly trimmed gray beard, shrugs and laughs: “As my beard got whiter, people started listening to me more easily.”
We’re making our way through the nondescript sprawl of Hyderabad’s Cyber City, and Mehrotra’s elliptical manner of speech – as clear and circular as those glasses – draws theoretical threads and practical lessons effortlessly through the various projects and preoccupations that have constituted his career. To our left, silvering under gray monsoon clouds, a soft-edged green mass sits – or rather, grows – between the hard blue glass cubes that dominate the landscape. Rahul interrupts himself to point out the building. (more…)