Playing tennis atop a sewer
I went there for months. But I could not even imagine what was beneath my feet.
Perhaps I should have known from the start. The park was weirdly narrow, with the two tennis courts laid out end to end, an office at one extremity and padel courts on the far side. And it was up a large flight of stairs.
Yet I never really thought about it. I would change my clothes, pack a bag and head to the metro. For months, I regularly took a 40-minute train ride across Barcelona to go play tennis, without realizing the true nature of my destination.
It took a rare car trip to open my eyes. At that point, I had walked to the courts from the metro station a dozen times, and biked a few times as well. I was heading out of town in a rental when it finally clicked. On the left, I saw the car dealership and dirt lots I walked by on the way to the courts. Wait, were those the courts directly in front of me and soon to be overhead? Wait, I play tennis on an overpass, atop six lanes of traffic?
After that trip, I began to realize that some of my favorite Barcelona experiences came on overpasses. One walk that Roshni, my wife, and I love runs from Raval — the neighborhood where we’ve lived since coming here – to the sea. One possible route goes along a raised bike path and pedestrian walkway dotted with public art and overlooking city buildings and yachts. Raised because underneath the pedestrians is not just a road, but the city’s main highway. It has been hidden in favor of dog walkers and tourists, kiddie parks and statuary.
Another time, far from the city center, deep in an unfamiliar neighborhood after a hike, we were making our way towards a much-needed lunch. We wound our way through an attractive park, a sprawl of green among the density that extends even to the outskirts of Barcelona. I heard a faint echo of traffic and, looking farther along, saw a highway emerging from the far end of the park. The cars, once again, had been tucked underneath and out of sight.
I could share other examples, and I suspect there are still more destinations that I have yet to realize sit upon overpasses. That is, the highways are hidden so well that I cannot say for sure when I’m enjoying their absence.
Overpass, by the way, is probably not the technical term for these structures. But I’ll tell you why I think it’s apt. I won’t claim to speak for all of the U.S., but in Northern California, I’ve only ever heard that term. And I’ve basically only ever seen one structure built over a highway: an overpass. Basically, aside from the rare pedestrian bridge, in the U.S. the only thing we put over big multi-lane roads are… more roads.
Take my hometown, Petaluma, CA. It is bisected by Highway 101, and there’s a handful of overpasses, and long-running debates about adding more. But functionally the highway is a dividing line, separating the city’s East and West. As a teenager, there was no pleasant way to cross to the other side of town, either by foot or bike. What options existed vibrated with passing cars, the air thick and toxic. You might as well be walking over an open sewer.
I think of Richmond, Berkeley, Oakland, or any of the other East Bay cities where I lived or worked. There and elsewhere in California there are stretches of highway with ocean views, with lush trees, and with infamously maze-like tangles. But except where they go physically through a hill, those highways are noisy spewing scars on the landscape, hidden only by foliage or sound walls, if hidden at all.
Of course, this is not really just about covering freeways. That’s a means, not an end. It’s about what we put ‘over’ and above, what we prioritize. In one of the richest states in the wealthiest country in the world, we put cars on top, not humans.
Not only that, but the racist history of highway construction means the noisiest, most-polluting stretches typically run through communities of color where incomes are low and political power lower still. Historically Black neighborhoods have often been bulldozed to make way for these toxic new tenants. And today a new wave of transportation investment threatens to slice up still more of our communities and landscape.
I played tennis for months in Barcelona without realizing a highway was running beneath the court. I could neither hear it nor see it. But more than that, I could not even imagine it. I could not imagine a park could be built atop a highway. The highways of California, it would seem, had not just bisected my town and overrun the land and air around me. They had, in some profound way, colonized my sense of the possible, of how we might live, of what should be put ‘over’ and above everything else. But there’s a lot of better ways to live.
Have you done something (anything?) on an overpass other than drive? Do tell.
ripple | De-highway your mind. Read about visions for a different urban future. For example, there’s Next City, whose tagline is “solutions for liberated cities.” I recently subscribed.
wave | Fight a freeway. Join one of the local efforts to remove, prevent expansion of, or cover (!) a local freeway. I just found out about the Freeway Fighters Network. One group in Portland, OR is trying to put a “cap” on I-5, and was just awarded $800K to study the idea.
Involved in something like this? Know of another similar effort? Let me know.
Love-in-a-Mist | excerpt
On a cliff side there’s a poppyseed pile of ants sputtering against the pavement, overlooking the highway with its tangle of overpass, and there’s a sweet smell of summerwine from bush grass and cat tails half filled in. Your liver’s out, Prometheus, eaten but not getting any smaller...
– Bailey Willes
Read in full at poets.org.
I just learned my friend, Shabbi Joi, has launched a Substack. It’s called Fallen Muslim, and it’s a hell of a good read. Here’s what it’s all about.
These weekly dispatches are free. If they make you think, that’ll make me happy. If they make you act, that would be even better. If you want to pledge support, that will allow me to do more with this newsletter in the future. But if you would rather donate that sum, or if it’s not in the budget right now, that’s fine by me. And if you loved it? Feel free to tell a friend.
This issue was a collective effort. Thanks to my editor-in-chief, Roshni Kavate; my proofreader, Steve Kay; and my writing group friends, Tina Mason and Kevin Maguire. Any errors, of grammar or judgment, are mine alone.
This is so funny, because something that impressed me from Cataluña is that there are also a few restaurants and highway marts on the overpasses, in the middle of nowhere. I have not eaten in any of them but I have shopped in one of the marts snacks for a long trip in. I find them strange, but really cool, convenient and a great idea of space usage. Can not wait to stop by one of those restaurants and have a glass of wine overseeing the traffic under my feet.