When I first closely studied a city blueprint – those intricate maps dictating where schools, supermarkets, residential zones, shopping facilities, doctors, and pharmacies should ideally be within walking distance – I was utterly fascinated. For hours, I'd pore over the details, lost in the logic of planned communities.
Yet, a stark reality often strikes me: in many of our cities, this ideal planning is far from achieved. Buildings spring up, seemingly at random, and infrastructure like roads has to be shoehorned in retrospectively. It often feels like one problem simply gives birth to the next.
I've often found myself wondering: Is it truly feasible to build underground subways in already developed areas? Would we need to demolish existing structures, compensating owners? Who would ever be okay with their home being destroyed, and where would they live? These are fundamental, weighty questions that demand thoughtful answers.
A Journey Through Urban Perspectives
Years later, sitting in an urban planning seminar, tasked with critiquing buildings and their surroundings, my observations continued. "Yes, this area lacks sufficient green spaces, it's rather overcrowded." I pondered: are towering skyscrapers and additional subways, on top of our existing transport networks, genuinely the optimal path forward?
This tension between rigid structure and natural flow always makes me think of the legendary architect Zaha Hadid. When she first broke onto the scene, people widely believed her fluid, radical urban visions were completely impossible to build. Critics wanted the short way out—the standard, predictable linear grid. But she firmly believed that buildings shouldn't just be box-shaped blocks, and she famously refused to draw straight lines. You can see this absolute defiance of the box in her masterpiece, the Heydar Aliyev Center, where the walls, floors, and roof melt into a single, breathtaking white wave. Her courage proved that these sweeping, organic ideas could physically exist in our real world, showing that architecture can bend to serve human imagination rather than forcing us to live inside rigid, soul-crushing concrete boxes.
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| Zaha Hadid's masterpiece: The Heydar Aliyev Center in Baku. (Photo: Azerbaijan.travel) |
Then, a course on Gender Perspectives on Urban Development shifted my entire outlook. I began to view my surroundings through a completely different lens. My focus moved to the basics: Where are the accessible walkways and pavements for strollers? Are there enough safe playgrounds for children? Are there convenient seating areas for mothers to rest after a long walk? Where are the community gardens where families can enjoy picnics? And how do we ensure universal access to clean, safe water?

























