Fighting development tooth and nail

Huge apartment blocks spring up like Japanese knotweed all over the world.  Shopping malls have become entrenched in cities like pernicious weeds.  They have even developed their own subcultures.  Studies show how young people claim such places as their own personal playgrounds.  We will gradually unearth how such shared spaces have changed city cultures for more than just the youth.  

Already, the elderly have migrated to such malls in search of warmth and company.  When you are truly alone even being in the vicinity of others becomes a vicarious pleasure.  You get to watch changing real life interactions instead of the TV.  In northern climes the cost of heating becomes too expensive for those on limited pensions.  Shopping malls become a cheaper alternative.  A place to stretch their legs protected from the elements.  In some cities these serve as social hubs.  Where you can check out the latest hospitalisation, death, opinion, experience and news.  In our cities the elderly, the disabled or ill can feel city streets are far too unpredictable.  Traffic, uneven pavements, gangs of youth can restrict their routines.  To have a place with some level of security can be a welcome blessing.  

Next time you are in a shopping centre have a good look around at the people who inhabit such places.  Some malls, target the vulnerable (not spenders) and have become proactive in driving what they see as ‘spongers’ out of their patch.  Security guards harass gangs of youth to move them on.  The elderly are more easily displaced by a lack of seating in such centres.  

Women with pre-school children linger near colourful displays and toyshops.  Their offspring are free to explore these shiny corridors unburdened with coats etc.  In amongst the motley throng are the real shoppers that the whole centre is designed for.  They emerge from doors laden down with bags advertising their purchases.  They don’t dawdle but walk purposefully from one hunting area to the next.  The big hunters know all of this is aimed at them.  They prowl their kingdom expecting bargains and good service.  Astute shopping assistants can spot the big cats with a glance. They know these watering holes have an attraction but must be careful in how they engage these lions.  Too much attention is seen as harassment, too little as bad service.  A good assistant should be able to read a client.  Is this a predator in good nick?  Ready to spend?  Or are they one of the subcultures killing time in the shopping paradise?  Judging this right will mean they adopt either a subservient attitude or a haughty dismissive turn of the head.  These places are not social centres after all.  They are designed to make money, that is their sole reason for being.  

If you have the time enter the nearest shopping mall to you.  Spend an hour but not one penny.  Observe the sub cultures that you find.  Actually, see those that share your space.  What is their age range?  Do they look happy and content?  Will you find that the majority are there, not out of choice but, as a refuge from something.  The young shop assistant opposite me has been manning her jewellery display for almost an hour.  No one has bought anything or even looked at her products.  She periodically combs out her long hair flicking is over her shoulder.  Then, she checks out her appearance in the mirror beside her cash register.  She fiddles with trays of rings.  Taking them out and putting them in again.  Occasionally, she presses buttons on her till to look busy.  Afterwards, she rearranges some necklaces as if they have been fingered out of position.  Now, she’s examining the jewellery as if she is a customer hoping to get someone to emulate her.  No joy, she’s reverted to combing her hair again and walking sideways in front of the mirror checking the waistline.  Tip toeing to see if her blouse is tucked in smoothly.  It’s disheartening to see the repetitive displacement activity in a human.  Mindlessly repeating useless activity because they have no other choice.  

Am I any different?  I walk along the front to a different café/venue each day and then write what comes to mind.  It’s being creative I tell myself but how much of it just marking time?  I may be on a longer more scenic circuit but is there any difference?  My activity is in many ways less worthy than hers.  She earns a wage, while I churn out my writing.  Everyone in this mall has his or her reasons for being here.  Security, warmth, company, work, shopping or people watching.  The escalators move in ceaseless circles moving us up and down.  The giant hamster wheels that transport us to shop entrances.  Wall to wall window displays all around, do our thinking for us.  The swish of notes and change out of cash registers mark the passing of our lives.  Busy, busy bees going nowhere together.

There are those who have fought all this development tooth and nail.  In fact in China they are called ‘Nail Houses’.  Refusing to sell up, they hang on long after the rest have cashed in.  They anchor themselves to the spot when there is no longer anything much left to protect.  The photos of their stubbornness are as brutal as any war.  One is not sure to either admire their steadfastness or bemoan their wasted endeavours.  I’ll let the photos do the talking.

The Walk – A pictorial tale of desire and longing

Walked around San Anton gardens (in Malta) and then from Valletta to Sliema capturing some of my favourite things on the way.

A beautiful walled garden around a palace. San Anton Palace was built between 1623-1636 as a summer residence for the Grand Master of the Order of St John, Antoine de Paule. Beautiful trees and lovely green lined paths.  Such an oasis of calm.

One of the lovely walkways, great to wander through pondering stuff.  It has a lovely kitchen garden cafe to have coffee in and watch the ducks and kids.

Then, after a coffee it was on to Valletta.  Jumped off the bus as it entered the city walls so I could take the coastal route back to Sliema.  Next stop, after an hour of walking, was ice cream at Busy Bees.  Positively, the best ice cream on the island.  Then onto my favourite house, I have no idea who owns it, but I want it!

Around the corner is a ship owned by Errol Flynn briefly in the 1950s now converted into a restaurant on the sea front.

Fashioned on strength, so that she could penetrate the Baltic ice floes in the cold winters and sail in the strong Nordic winds of Scandinavia, the Black Schooner was constructed with a hull of two layers of thick seasoned oak. For sixty-nine years she navigated under sail with cargoes of grain, coke and wood on voyages far and wide. Built around 1909 it has had a traumatic history, suffered weevel worm in the hull, a fire in the engine room, abandoned by her owners in a Malta harbour where she sank, settling on the seabed at a depth of 70 feet for years.  Eventually, she was refloated and refitted and used in the filming of the motion picture “Popeye.  Sadly, she sank again during a freak storm in 1981.For a ship that has sailed the high seas for so long there is something tragic to find it on dry land, being prostituted as a restaurant.

This one is my favourite yachts in Malta so far.  Such beautiful wood and lovely lines.  A really classy article with a life boat look of stability that appeals to the total coward in me.  Note the rich cruiser alongside, now they don’t tempt me at all.  We had a cruiser and they drink the fuel so quickly that instead of enjoying the sea and scenery you end up transfixed by the falling fuel gauge.  Just in case you think I come from a rich yachting set, let me hasten to say ours was small and much less impressive.  I fondly remember my Dad feeling nervous about leaving our new purchase tied to the walls of the harbour and so we rigged up a combination of sturdy ropes to secure our new boat safely in place.  Came back to find the tide had gone out and our boat was hanging from the wall in mid air.  Darn, but we had really tied it securely! 

She is bigger and broader than she appears.  See what I mean about a broad beam?  But, like all things it has that beauty that only comes from being well looked after!  Only another 4km to home now, I reckon I will make it before nightfall.