The Hildesheimer Park -- Jerusalem Playground Review, pt. 1

Location: Intersection of Hildesheimer and HaTzefira streets, the German Colony (one block down from Emek Refaim St.)

Shade: This park is blessed with mature trees that make it at least partly usable throughout the day. Some of the play equipment, including one section of the large slide/tunnel complex, remains cool to the touch until around noon (at least), though the swings and seesaw become unusable considerably earlier.

Play equipment: The park was renovated about three years ago; a large sandbox (usually full of cat droppings) was removed and a decrepit old slide replaced with a state-of-the-art slide/tunnel complex. Swings -- a major attraction and relative rarity in Jerusalem playgrounds -- were added (though not the kind suitable for toddlers), along with a spring toy, a small carousel, and a seesaw.

Exercise equipment for adults was installed as well -- wonder how much use it actually gets.
In point of fact, I generally see the exercise bench being used as a regular bench, and have never seen a grown-up using any of the other equipment.


Age suitability of play equipment: The multiplicity and diversity of the equipment make the playground suitable for toddlers and older children alike.


Seating: Plenty of benches -- many in well-shaded areas.
Just outside the park proper, on the Hildesheimer side, an S-shaped stone bench snakes picturesquely around a tree. On the Hatzefira side, just across from the minimarket
(and in direct line of the foot traffic from Emek Refaim) there are benches facing the street. Overall, a sociable ambience.

Snack factor: Minimarket Maalomi directly across the street provides the full range of ice creams, salty and sweet snacks, plus a variety of upscale/American/healthy items, in keeping with the character of the German Colony.

Chevra (schmooze factor): This park has the advantage of its proximity to Emek Refaim, as well as to several schools and kindergartens -- factors that attract a wide range of age groups to it and ensure the social and ethnic diversity of its users. One encounters here permanent residents, tourists, students. Lots of locals pass through with their dogs -- a plus from the point of view of entertaining young children.
(Despite the removal of the "litter-box" during the recent renovation, there is still a sizable feline presence as well.) One often sees elderly people, some in wheelchairs, accompanied by foreign caregivers. On a given morning spent here, I might run into a couple of people I already know, while also getting into conversations (sometimes deep ones) with people I've never met before. On one memorable occasion, a group of some half-dozen women, most of whom did not know each other previously, got into a lively debate over the relative advantages and disadvantages of the Chorev and Makor Chaim elementary schools. Is it the crossroads character of the park that facilitates interaction? Does its openness on three sides conduce to openness at the interpersonal level as well?

Multiple uses within the park:
-- Play (and exercise) equipment that suits a range of ages.
-- Seating clusters that are distinct without being isolated.

Criticism:

-- The renovation that took place three years ago, though it vastly improved the park's play equipment, actually undermined its multi-use status. Prior to the renovation, one entire end of the park consisted of a lawn -- a raised mound of grass that constituted a separate and distinct area within the park. During the renovation the lawn was scooped out and paved over, and replaced with exercise equipment which, as I noted above, may not have been the best possible use of the space. I personally miss the lawn and feel that it added a dimension that is now lacking. People brought blankets and picnicked there; students snoozed there during breaks; it was yet another area for children to investigate when they tired of the play equipment.

This latter point is an important one: playground landscaping should take into account the fact that children want and need bits of nature to explore. One can't chain them to the play equipment -- slide, or else!

Likewise, the shrubbery lining the park's perimeter was fenced off, thinned out and overly "manicured." The pre-renovation shrubbery was much more open and inviting to children. I remember my older kids hiding among the bushes, finding various germ-encrusted treasures there ...
Before the renovation, this gnarled old tree had a wooden bench all around it -- another quirky feature that kids (and adults) liked. Basically, the renovation somewhat eroded the park's distinctive character -- made it more "generic," in addition to curtailing the variety of uses within it.

Still, you can't really ruin a park that has so much going for it in terms of location, shade, and openness.


Beyond the park (services and amenities available in the vincinity of HaTzefira St.):

-- Emek Refaim Street, a major thoroughfare and commercial hub, is a block away. Alongside trendy cafes and upscale shopping, Emek Refaim is home to more mundane amenities such as a smallish supermarket, a post office, a stationery store, and medical clinics, meaning that various everyday errands can be appended to the park outing.
-- Kindergartens, an elementary school and high school are clustered at the end of Hatzefira Street.
-- Grocery across the street.
-- Natural History Museum a few minutes' walk away.
-- The park's location at an intersection, multiple entry points and general open feel attract passersby (or "passers-through") of all stripes -- dog walkers, people on their way to work, school, etc.


Other nearby attractions: The eateries of Emek Refaim, and the taxidermy collection/weird 1950s-era high school science projects on display at the Jerusalem Natural History Museum, are of obvious interest to families. But HaTzefira Street in general is worth getting to know. It has a few architecturally distinguished buildings a good deal of greenery, and a couple of funky establishments -- a hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor and this tiny high-end toy store, Ritch-Ratch,
whose merchandise consists exclusively of imported wooden playthings. The store, owned by a veteran local resident, sold sewing notions until the abrupt switch was made a few years ago to wooden toys. The merchandise is actually very appealing; it might be hard to drag small children away from it. The store's sign still features a zipper and proclaims the availability of sewing items. I strongly suspect that one could still obtain a spool of thread here on personal appeal to the owner.


Hatzefira Street starts at Emek Refaim and terminates in a large parking lot, serving a cluster of kindergartens and schools. If you turn from the parking lot up the path that starts out from this little sport center pictured at left, you will come to a kind of farm/petting zoo belonging to a high school. The path zig-zags and includes a few steps, though nothing too difficult to negotiate with a stroller.


The petting zoo is not normally open to the public (during the school year I saw a sign stating that it was open on Thursdays from 4-6 pm, but the sign disappeared once the school year ended). However, the animals -- mainly goats, ducks, chickens and turkeys -- are clearly visible, and small children can be entertained here for ... oh, at least a few minutes ...

Back to the playground

When my older children were small, I often took them to playgrounds outside of our neighborhood, which was then (and is still, 9 years later) under development and, consequently, lacking in shade -- the main factor determining a playground's usability between 9:00 am and 4:00 pm. During the long summers when my three "musketeers" were babies, toddlers and preschoolers, it seemed I was always chasing after shade. I developed a certain expertise regarding the green spaces of central and southern Jerusalem -- could tell you, for any given park, which corners and what play equipment remained tolerable at what hours.

A few years went by. The musketeers turned into schoolboys, and playground outings became a thing of the past. I moved on -- into middle age, a more substantial work schedule out of the home, a new routine ... until little "Midlife Surprise" made her appearance.

Returning to young motherhood in one's mid-forties, after a longish hiatus, is an interesting phenomenon in and of itself; were I more of a mommy blogger I would write about it in depth -- well, maybe someday I will. Within the context of this urbanist blog, however, I will simply point out that the intervening years, my advancing age, and the fact that I have been dealing this time around with only one baby/toddler, have all helped to make me more reflective than I was in the past about the environments in which my childrearing activities are taking place. Whether that translates into more effective parenting, only time will tell. But it does unquestionably translate into an impulse to analyze the surroundings in which I spend time with my young daughter.

In the musketeer days I would just pile the crew into the Mom-mobile and take off for someplace shady, without subjecting my destination decisions to any particular analysis. Whereas now the playground outings are informed by a spirit of reminiscence and of comparison at several years' remove -- a state of mind in which attention can be paid to the disparate elements that make up one's surroundings. Moreover, having spent most of the last decade coping with the problems posed by defective neighborhood design, I've acquired a conceptual framework for analyzing the public spaces that I and my little one frequent.

The foregoing is by way of introduction to a series that I wish to present on parks and playgrounds in Jerusalem. I will, G-d willing, be taking a close look at what makes these places "tick" (or not). I hope that the series will be useful to mothers and others looking for good places in Jerusalem in which to spend time with (or without) children.


The series will discuss/rate playgrounds based on a number of set criteria. Some of these criteria will be self-evident and technical, e.g., level of shade, quality of play equipment. Other criteria will be informed by a New Urbanist sensibility. In particular, I will be looking at the mixed-use features of parks and playgrounds -- both vis-à-vis their surrounding areas, and vis-à-vis themselves. That is to say, I will discuss the degree to which a given park is accessible to, or isolated from, other land uses such as commercial activities, schools, public/municipal services, and other attractions that a parent might want to know about. I will also discuss the degree to which a given park's design facilitates diverse uses within it, e.g. play equipment for different age groups, picnic areas, lawns, shrubbery, paths for bicycling/tricycling, etc.

Do Judaism and New Urbanism have anything to say to each other?

 


Photo credit: Gazelle Valley, Jerusalem via Wikimedia Commons (ערן)

  I believe the answer to the above question is linked to the issue of whether Judaism and environmentalism -- a movement to which New Urbanism is related though not identical -- have anything to say to each other.

I'm an observant Jew. I generally favor environmentalist initiatives, e.g. recycling. But I tend not to be terribly interested in Jewish apologetics for environmentalism.

I guess that's because I view environmentalism as a common-sense enterprise.

This is not to suggest that there are areas of life where Judaism doesn't apply, or that Jewish sources should not be brought to bear on common-sense issues. An observant person might be willing to brush off the health risks of smoking, but can hardly ignore, without some religious qualms, a psak instructing him to quit.

I also recognize that looking to Jewish sources for environmental insights can be a fascinating intellectual exercise for those so inclined. There's plenty of eco-Jewish material on the Internet, and not all of it is cliche-ridden. One blog that is interesting (though not recently updated) is Judaism and Environment in the Talmud.

These acknowlegements aside, the idea of seeking out specifically Jewish justifications for water conservation, energy efficiency, etc., strikes me as redundant. In a way I find it demeaning to Judaism -- a kind of subjugation of the religion to political correctness. And, for me personally at least, the "Judaization" of common-sense issues isn't a terribly compelling endeavor.

Just as I regard environmentalism as a kind of "no-brainer" proposition, so do I look upon New Urbanism as a common-sense framework for ensuring that our built environment is pleasant, stimulating, and safe. I wouldn't normally consider it necessary to embed my personal affinity for this movement in a halakhic framework, any more than I would feel I had to ask my rabbi about the necessity of good oral hygiene.

However, it has occurred to me lately that perhaps a Jewish-Urbanism niche ought to be created, within the framework of Jewish environmentalism. That if Jewish sources could be enlisted on behalf of New Urbanist tenets, a little more interest might be generated within the Jewish blogosphere than my rantings to date have managed to do.

If you Google "Judaism and [new] urbanism" you get a few items that are worthwhile, though primarily of sociological interest -- and with an American orientation. Notably, Michael Lewyn, a law school professor with expertise in urban planning who blogs at Planetizen, points out here and here that the urbanist focus on walkability should be music to Orthodox Jewish ears, as it dovetails with, among other things, the need to get to shul by foot on Shabbat.

This issue of car-oriented sprawl conflicting with Orthodox Shabbat observance is an interesting one -- but it seems to me a primarily American issue, and not one around which religious Israelis are likely to rally. I wouldn't expect that a lack of pedestrian access to minyanim is a common problem in Israel. The urbanism/sprawl dichotomy expresses itself here in other ways that are probably more challenging to frame in specifically Jewish terms.

The problem, as I see it, is an overall lack of "urbanist consciousness" among observant Israeli Jews, leading to a failure to demand street- and community-friendly features from the planning authorities and real estate developers who build for this public. Building setbacks? Mixed-use zoning? Snout houses? Folks are too busy caring for and educating their large (ken yirbu) families to relate to these issues. In the newer, peripheral neighborhood of Jerusalem where I reside, people are happy just to have secured for themselves apartments of reasonable size in which to raise their kids; they couldn't care less what their buildings look like from the outside, whether or not the neighborhood has a discernible "center," whether their street is automobile-oriented or pedestrian-friendly.

Would some erudite drashos tying New Urbanism to halakhic principles regarding the public domain spark an interest among the religiously observant? Possibly.

Unfortunately, I won't be the one to take up this challenge, having come to Jewish observance rather too late in life to acquire the erudition necessary for such an enterprise.

All that I am capable of doing -- to the extent that I am indeed capable of furthering any agenda with this blog -- is to take a common-sense approach to my surroundings, here in the Holy City: what looks good/bad, what feels welcoming/alienating, what is safe/unsafe. Yet, limited as this approach is, I can't help feeling that at some level it ought to be sufficient -- even from a Jewish perspective.




Common sense enjoins Jews to care about how Eretz Israel -- the land given to us by G-d -- is built up and developed. All the more so regarding Jerusalem. I'm not sure one needs halachic justification for one's distress when a visual hijacking occurs -- when chunks of Jerusalem's landscape are sold to the highest bidder.








Common sense also enjoins Jewish parents to be concerned when residential projects are constructed in such a way as to create a sense of desertion at street level, and to leave the street -- and the children who use it -- essentially unsupervised.


To conclude: I feel fairly confident that Judaism and New Urbanism have something to say to each other at the esoteric level -- high up on the Jewish bookshelf. At the same time, I think they probably have much to say to each other at the level of common sense.

Photo credit: Gazelle Valley, Jerusalem via Wikimedia Commons (ערן)

Walls and values

My basic assumption is that architecture and neighborhood design reflect values.

What values are embodied in the buildings pictured at left -- a residential project in one of Jerusalem's newer, peripheral neighborhoods?

More precisely, what prominent feature of the project reflects values that are skewed -- from an urbanist point of view, at least?

Imagine that the wall surrounding the project weren't there. I'm not a real estate marketer, so I don't have simulation software handy. But let's try to envision what the project -- or rather, the semi-public area fronting the project -- would look like in the absence of that wall.

What you would end up with is something not too dissimilar to this older building in Jerusalem's prestigious Katamon area:

Both buildings, the one in the newer neighborhood and the older Katamon one, have parking at ground level. But in Katamon a passerby can see the cars. This may not be an attractive sight in and of itself; however, that is not the whole picture. The area in front of the Katamon building is open; one has an unobstructed view of the building entrance, as well as of human traffic into and out of the building. (Of course I don't mean this in a voyeuristic sense, but rather in the sense of a passerby's peripheral awareness -- at once reassuring and stimulating -- of human activity in and around the building.) An ambience of sociability prevails; the building communicates with the street. This sense of human activity goes a long way toward mitigating the aesthetic "blemish" of the cars parked under and around the building.

Moreover, the communication is two-way: anyone exiting the building (whether to get into their car or to continue on foot) will have an immediate view of the street scene before them. They can greet neighbors, assess the weather and the overall mood of the street; they will be influenced, in the most natural way, by the street atmosphere as they encounter it on their emergence from the building. Perhaps a group of laughing schoolchildren will raise a smile on their lips; maybe they'll see someone trip over a section of broken pavement and make a mental note to call the municipality about it. Whatever they see or hear, they will have interacted in some way with the street.

By contrast, the wall fronting the project in the newer neighborhood simply hides all signs of life, both from passersby and from the building residents. What could be more depressing than to walk out of one's building and be confronted by a sterile stone wall? And what could be more alienating to a passerby on the sidewalk, than a wall such as the one pictured at right?

The buildings in this project are by no means unattractive. When we leave the external wall out of the equation, they even compare favorably with the one in Katamon pictured above. What a pity that the project designers felt the need to deface their own handiwork with this nonsensical wall -- a wall that serves no structural purpose, whose sole raison d'etre is to ensure that the building residents see as little as possible of their neighbors, and vice versa.

Superfluous walls are a recurring motif in this newer Jerusalem neighborhood. The neighborhood's name has the Hebrew word for "wall" in it, and one feels as though the metaphor has been taken to an insane extreme. In my last post I described the crypt-like atmosphere of a playground surrounded by a wall (where a simple metal railing ought to have sufficed). There are many other examples. Here, for instance, one finds a wall placed directly in front of a building entrance, for no apparent purpose other than that of concealing the entrance from passersby:



This is the view from behind the wall (the mailboxes could, obviously, have been placed elsewhere, e.g., next to the building door):

Apparently, the project architect felt that only the building residents should be entitled to see the tiny patch of shrubbery near the entrance. Should a passerby on the sidewalk happen to catch a glimpse of it, that would be tantamount to an invasion of the residents' privacy.

The architect also seems to have felt that the building residents would prefer to see a wall as they exit the building, rather than the sidewalk, as in most normal Jerusalem architecture of the previous century.

This architectural style constitutes a clear departure from the past -- aesthetically and morally.

Why this fear of seeing one's neighbors? Of being seen? Why the obsession with privacy, at the expense of any normal, natural concern for the public sphere? From where did we get the idea that it is okay to dishonor the street?

I get it that Israelis want more luxurious living conditions than those offered by the typical apartment building of 30 or 40 years ago. The exposure to Western standards -- to the glimpses of suburban home decor that abound on American television -- has likely changed everyone's outlook, and driven demand for larger apartments and for a "mifrat techni ashir" -- the "high-caliber" specifications that are always being touted by new residential projects and which are supposed to make buyers feel that they are getting something exceptional.

I can understand that Israelis want a reprieve from the tiny apartments and modest conditions of past decades. But I fail to understand why one's privacy and quality of life are "hurt" when a passerby gets to see the outside of one's building. Why do we have to feel that our standard of living in the private sphere can be ensured only by showing contempt for the public sphere, or by doing away with it entirely?

A tomb with a view

The main impetus behind this blog is a nagging feeling that common sense is being increasingly abandoned in current Jerusalem construction practice. Basically, time-honored rules for building pleasant and attractive edifices, streets and facilities have been forgotten, and a new set of rules, as rigid as they are illogical, has been adopted.

What makes a playground a fun and happy place to spend time in?

Visibility, for starters.

People like to see their friends and neighbors. When I pass by a playground, I want to see who's in it. Maybe I'll join them! When I'm sitting in a playground with my kids, I want to see who's passing by on the sidewalk. Maybe I'll call to them and they'll join me! Young children in general love to stand by park fences and peer between the bars at the world around them. They enjoy watching people, cars, motorcycles, strollers with other young children, garbage trucks, police cars, etc., pass by.

But the folks who design playgrounds these days in Jerusalem have other priorities.
Here is a "top-secret" playground in one of Jerusalem's newer, peripheral neighborhoods:




The play-crypt ... What's on the other side of the stone wall? Why, the sidewalk, of course. Wouldn't want to expose anyone in the playground to that, would we?




My, that bench looks inviting, doesn't it?




What's really weird is that from the other side of the playground you can see out to the far reaches of the neighborhood, and beyond:
A tomb with a view!



The new construction rules in Jerusalem seem to be:
1)If you can build a wall, do it.
2)If you can block people's view of the street in front of them, do it.
3)Force people to look out at what's far away from them. Call it "nof" ("a view"). They'll think they're getting something good, and won't miss the human-scaled view they're being deprived of.
4)Make sure to keep trees out of children's play areas. Don't just delay planting them: leave no space in which to plant them. That way you can ensure permanent shadelessness, and consequent non-use of the playground during most daytime hours.

A car mentality

This post was inspired by a talkback to an article in Ynet Magazine. The article, entitled "Back to the Desert", is about A.B. Yehoshua's plans to spend a weekend at Kibbutz Sde Boker (pictured at left, with ibex), and why he thinks settling the Negev would solve our density and demographic problems, and restore the old-time Zionist values that made Israel's first prime minister go to settle the desert in a shack ...

Yehoshua's invocation of Ben-Gurion at Kibbutz Sde Boker stands in stark contrast to the values embodied in talkback #12 to the article:

To make the Negev attractive would take little things, which make for well-planned cities. If we planned a city from the start, we'd have roads wide enough for 2 lanes of traffic, despite the fact that cars will park on both sides of the streets, unfortunately Israeli-style. Every SINGLE place of business and school would have an actual parking lot, suitable for the cars that will actually need to park there. Real urban planning will go a long way. Israelis' would flock to a well-planned place. [emphases mine - WiJ]

Without wanting to "flame" an unsuspecting talkbacker, it's hard not to be distressed that the talkbacker's only planning desiderata relate to the convenience of drivers, and reflect zero walkability awareness.

When we think of Sde Boker or any other kibbutz, images of large, green public spaces generally come to mind. Folks walking or scooting around on bicycles. The kibbutznik doesn't own a car; he doesn't need one. He can get to work/kindergarten/the clinic/the post office, etc., on foot or by bike. And as he walks or pedals along, he enjoys the lovingly-tended common areas that reflect the kibbutz's community-friendly values.

These values, which A.B. Yehoshua links with old-fashioned Zionism, do not require a kibbutz environment in order to be realized. They can exist quite well in an urban setting, such as Jerusalem's Rehavia neighborhood, whose green and welcoming semi-public spaces reflect the values of its original inhabitants -- Zionist leaders of the pre- and early-statehood period.

Those were the days when people didn't think they needed cars for every shopping excursion; when children walked to school -- or got there in large buses, rather than being chauffered by their parents in private automobiles.

It's no accident that Rehavia has some of the most expensive real estate on the planet. People like to live in communities that are walkable. The talkbacker notes that "Israelis would flock to a well-planned community" -- in fact, wealthy Israelis and foreigners are doing just that throughout Jerusalem's walkable older neighborhoods.

But these are precisely the neighborhoods that don't have wide roads to accommodate both two-way traffic and parking on both sides of the street. These are the neighborhoods where "every SINGLE place of business and school" doesn't have a parking lot.

The fact is that narrow roads and a lack of off-street parking are actually tools used by enlightened planners to promote walking, bicycling and the use of public transportation over the use of private automobiles.

Dom Nozzi, an American urban planner who writes compellingly about walkability and New Urbanism topics, has this to say about widening roads to relieve congestion:

[I]n the face of a tolled or congested road, a number of motorists will choose to avoid the road. Some will choose an alternative road nearby. Or will drive at a different time of day (instead of rush hour). Or will walk, bicycle or use transit. Or will forego the trip completely. In the long run, many people would move closer to their destinations.

But widening a road short-circuits these self-regulating changes in travel behavior. A widened road that is free to use says to motorists: “Feel free to use this major road to drive across town at rush hour to rent a video!”]

Regarding the talkbacker's demand for a "parking lot for EVERY SINGLE place of business and school," it's worth checking out the off-street parking links at the Municipal Research and Services Center, a non-profit organization offering professional consulting services to local government in Washington State. The MRSC notes that "[n]ewer off-street parking ordinances recognize both the necessity of parking and the need to reduce dependence on the automobile by encouraging transit and other alternative transportation modes." [emphasis mine - WiJ]

The planning perspective represented by the talkbacker quoted above produces the following


Wouldn't you rather shop here:




Photo credits:
Ibex at Sde Boker: Hannah Sivan via the PikiWiki
Big-box shopping: Ben Schumin -- Wikipedia
Washington, GA storefronts: TampAGS, for AGS Media (via Wikipedia)

A Woman's touch?

A recent post on The Forward's Sisterhood blog , Breaking the Drywall Ceiling, inspired me to reflect on the degree to which the planning and architectural issues that preoccupy me have a gender component.

The author, Dr. Elana Sztockman, celebrates the election of a woman, Ofira Golomev (גולומב) as chair of the Rishon LeZion branch of the Association of Contractors and Builders in Israel. Given the gender disparities in the construction sector to which Dr. Sztokman calls attention, one would have to agree that this is, indeed, a positive development, from a women's-status point of view.

What I'm wondering is whether Ms. Golomev's election has any meaning from an urban-planning and architectural point of view.

Are women, once in positions of influence, better equipped than men to push for well-designed neighborhoods and residential projects?

On the face of it, the answer would appear to be, yes. Women, particularly mothers, spend more time in the neighborhood and in the home and, it stands to reason, are more likely to be deeply affected by poor planning and construction. They also tend to be more aware of their children's needs and whether these needs are or aren't being served. If the nearest library is not within walking distance, if the street environment is unsafe due a lack of visibility from building windows and entrances, if the local playgrounds are shadeless and unusable from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm, the moms will know -- after the fact.

The question is, do they notice these details beforehand?

It is tempting to connect the kind of wall-and-garage-dominated streetscape exemplified by the photo at left with a male design perspective. If we are to be guided by stereotypes, then we will affirm that men like their cars and want them to be well-housed. Men aren't around all day and might not realize that the lack of a semi-public space between the building and the street leaves residents, and particularly children, with no place to be except in the house, the school, or the formal after-school activity.

But is the converse true? Do Israeli women, when they are in the process of buying a home, place a premium on street-friendly features? Do they care if the building has no entrance except through a garage? Do they notice if local playgrounds have been built with no trees anywhere in the vicinity of the play equipment?

Based on my own observation -- and, I must say, on my own past experience as a homebuyer completely ignorant of planning issues -- the answer is no.

Without trying to blame either men or women, I think it's fair to say that the Israeli home-buying public has almost no awareness of what makes a place pleasant to live in -- no awareness of neighborhood design. As Gerard Heumann pointed out last year after the Holyland scandal broke, "[t]hose who paid good money for apartments in Holyland, blind to its destructive impacts, could not imagine the present scenario."

Regarding the election of a woman to chair the Association of Contractors and Builders' Rishon branch: Sztokman points out that Golomev "has been influential in advancing many building projects." I would love to know what these projects are, what they look like, to what degree they embody urbanist values. Do they reflect a "woman's touch," or was Golomev's gender irrelevant to their design?

Sztokman quotes Golomev on the Association's "[...]social and communal agenda. For years the organization has produced the annual ceremony for granting scholarships to students with lesser abilities from Reshon Lezion. This is a continuing, respected tradition that the organization is very proud of.” This all sounds very nice, but what does it have to do with planning and architecture? Do these scholarships reflect a desire on the Association's part to create safe, healthy, walkable, livable communities, or are they a fig leaf for construction that is unfriendly to the community?

I would be very grateful for some feedback from readers in the Rishon LeZion area regarding the actual nature of Ms. Golomev's activity.

Photo credit:
Young Construction Worker : FreeDigitalPhotos.net