I'd Rather Complain About Scooters Than Parking

Why lively cities have better problems than "comfortable" suburbs.

Ever since I started living in cities—circa 1999 in San Francisco—suburban environments have given me a near instant feeling of something bordering on depression. Call it emotional discomfort mixed with angst—I just don't like anything about suburbia.

This doesn't mean cities—large, medium size, small, college towns—are perfect.

Obviously not.

Even I think cities in Europe have their problems and room to improve, but forget the country or continent of location, I've never understood why so many people choose to trade controlled chaos for unchecked boredom and soullessness.

Because—for me, after spending my first 25 years or so of life in pretty much car-dependent environments—once I experienced walkable cities I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Then, when I started living in one, I became obsessed and can no longer see myself living any other way.

As I noted on Substack Notes the other day, for our first year in Valencia, I mostly kept my mouth shut. When you move to a new country with a slowly developing grasp of the language, the smart move is to observe, not arrive like a wrecking ball.

But after 18 months, something shifted. Integration doesn’t mean nodding politely at everything around you. Real integration—to the extent possible as an American—happens when a place becomes your baseline, and you care enough about its future to regain your critical eye. I’m no longer comparing Valencia to Los Angeles or San Francisco.

I’ll get deeper into that in my next newsletter post, but it ties directly to today’s going concern.

When we first arrived in Valencia, if there was any “novelty” it was in finally being able to live in a truly urban environment where we don’t need a car after—for both my wife and I—more than ten years apiece in Los Angeles. I call it “a breath of fresh air” more than novelty. However you define it’s fucking awesome to navigate daily life by foot, by bike and—occasionally—via public transit. I couldn’t even do that fully during my seven years in San Francisco.

But I largely kept quiet about a lot of the issues connected to this for most of our first year here and some of the second outside of—it’s amazing to live this way! So, as I’ll discuss in the next post, I’ve moved on to being more critical of Valencia as it has become my baseline. I now compare Valencia to what’s possible in Spain, and what’s possible throughout Europe.

So, after 18 months, I have fully regained my critical perspective—the very same one I’ve had for the better part of the last three decades. One that’s inextricably linked to another constant over the last 25 years—my love for city living and environments.

Valencia is an incredible place to continue experiencing and exploring my urban obsession.

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Valencia is a city in transition—and, pursuant to my Note, it’s not lost on me how the presence of people like me affects that transition—just like San Francisco was when I landed there in 1999. Just like East Hollywood was—and still is—when I started living there in 2018.

Over the years, all that’s happened is that the general issue of gentrification has broadened to include more elements that ultimately contribute to what amounts to controlled urban chaos.

• scooters

• Airbnbs

• crowds

• housing crises

• overtourism

• noise

• graffiti

• trash

• smells

• bike tours clogging plazas and narrow streets

• the occasional shopping cart or wheelchair in the bike lane

For me, all of these things and more are—without doubt—things to complain about and have opinions on.

That’s my life and livelihood!

But they’re also stimulation.

On all of these things listed above and more, suburban life can make you more of an outsider. Just as the longer I live away from the United States, I’m more of an outsider to what’s happening there, the same applies when you ditch city living for suburbia.

You no longer have a laundry list of things to “complain” about. Instead, your biggest bitch is about having to park too far away from the entrance of the strip mall in 38-degree heat or the traffic you encounter on your way into the city.

The allure of suburbia often focuses on the elimination of these so-called urban stressors. But it also removes a source of intellectual and psychological stimulation from your life that I don’t think people—particularly in the United States, but also around the world—fully appreciate. I mean, even in SF and LA, I took “the good with the bad” in part because of desensitizing yourself so you can keep a smile on your face, but also because—what’s the alternative?

The alternative is comfort and convenience.

Or at least what we’ve been conditioned to believe to be comfort and convenience.

Wide roads. Quiet neighborhoods. Predictable routines. Parking lots. A backyard. Maybe less friction, tension, and conflict. And a lot less stimulation.

For some people, that’s exactly what they’re looking for.

For me, it feels like slowly turning the volume down on life—like closing the book on a chapter that makes you feel alive and makes the rest of the world still surprise you and feel readily accessible.

I’ve spent the better part of three decades studying, writing about, and living in cities. What I’ve come to realize is that many of the things we’ve been taught to see as urban inconveniences are also the things that keep us engaged with the world around us.

The conversations you overhear because there are too many people too close to you.

The construction project that’s been going on for months—maybe years— that you wonder about.

The new café that opens around the corner.

The protest in the plaza or coming down your street.

The scooter that shouldn’t be in the bike lane.

The shopping cart that somehow ended up there.

In cities, you’re constantly noticing something. This is hardly a trivial matter. The constant inflow of new experiences can help keep your mind active in ways that aren’t necessarily always comfortable and convenient, but necessary ingredients for your brain, particularly as you age.

Suburbia promises convenience. Too often, it delivers insulation and isolation, as my aging father is experiencing firsthand.

I’ll take the stimulation.

I’ll take the scooters. And I’ll happily complain about them.

I’ll take controlled urban chaos over the myth of comfort and convenience every single day of the week.

Dutch Critcal Mass every morning in Valencia!

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