Lived

Understanding a system requires understanding the people and the culture it serves.

“We shape our buildings and afterwards our buildings shape us.”

For as long as I’ve built systems, I’ve wanted to know the people inside them, and the systems that shape how they live. So I travel slowly. Four years in Medellín, and months in Mexico City, Lima, Buenos Aires and Santiago: long enough to stop being a visitor, and start seeing how people actually think.

The Chicago skyline at sunrise across Lake Michigan

Where it started.

01

Chicago

The Loop

You don’t see the system you grow up inside. You only learn it through contrast. It took leaving to see Chicago’s: a long winter, suffered together. Someone opens up their basement, the neighbors come over, and the whole city waits out the cold for Cubs games, festivals and the block parties of summer. House parties kept Chicago alive. Fittingly, it also invented house music.

Train tracks running into the Chicago Loop at night, Willis Tower ahead
Into the Loop, by train. Photo: Kyle Fahey
Chicago Fire Department Truck 6 and an engine at night downtown, a firefighter crossing the street
Truck Co. 6, downtown. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: House music, Chicago, early 1980s

Photo: NorbertNagel, CC BY-SA 4.0

El Poblado at night: lit towers in the green hills of Medellín

Then I left, and the first thing I learned was how wrong a reputation can be.

02

Medellín

El Poblado and Laureles

A city in a valley, cut off by mountains and then by its reputation. In 1988, Time called it the most dangerous city in the world. Twenty-five years later it was named the most innovative. Nobody rescued it. It cleaned itself up through sheer will: cable cars up the hillsides, libraries where the violence had been. Chaos on the surface, and underneath it some of the kindest, happiest people I’ve known. Magical realism, it turns out, is just realism there.

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”

Atlético Nacional fans waving green and white flags from the roof of a painted chiva bus
Nacional fans on a chiva, after a win. Photo: Kyle Fahey
A smiling coffee farmer in a sombrero behind a table of siphon, moka pot, French press and his own bagged coffee
A cafetero and his coffee. Photo: Kyle Fahey
Soldiers and a farmer digging on a green hillside, a dog asleep in the grass
Soldiers and a farmer, digging, out in the countryside. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: Time, 1988, Wall Street Journal and Citi, City of the Year, 2013

Photo: William Gil, CC BY 2.0

Avenida Vicente Suárez in La Condesa, Mexico City

Medellín taught me to look underneath. Mexico City showed me what a city can hold.

03

Mexico City

La Condesa

Twenty million people, and it refreshes the soul instead of draining it. La Condesa has the galleries and the jazz clubs. Walk a few blocks past it: taco stands, lively markets, reggaeton clubs, neighbors who know each other. That’s where the city breathes.

Indigenous women in red huipiles carry a long green banner past the Metropolitan Cathedral in the Zócalo
An indigenous rights march past the cathedral, in the Zócalo. Photo: Kyle Fahey
A film crew rigging a camera crane on a Mexico City street corner
A movie shoot on a street corner. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Photo: Keizers, CC BY-SA 3.0

The Miraflores cliffs and coastline above the Pacific in Lima

Culture isn’t only inherited. Lima built one on purpose.

04

Lima

Miraflores

A city that decided to become a food capital, built the kitchens to prove it, and won. A place can choose what it’s known for: the best brand strategy I’ve ever seen. But it doesn’t run deep. A third of Peru lives in Lima, and Lima makes nearly half of its GDP. Outside it, life looks like a struggle. A brand can lift a city without lifting a country.

Surfboards stacked on a yellow Volkswagen Beetle on the Costa Verde, under the Miraflores cliffs
Surf rentals on the Costa Verde, under the cliffs. Photo: Kyle Fahey
A marinera dancer in a red dress, mid-turn, in front of a yellow church
The marinera, Peru’s national dance. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: APEC, 2017, from INEI data

Photo: Alec Gamoff, CC BY 2.0

Buenos Aires from above under storm clouds

If a place can choose what it becomes, it can also choose what it keeps.

05

Buenos Aires

Palermo

Europe, on the far side of the Atlantic. A city that never forgot where it came from, and still demands quality in everything. It also mourns, and keeps trying to move on. Land at Ezeiza and you’d never know that in 1973, a few miles from the runway, the crowd that came to welcome Perón home became a massacre. Then came the dictatorship and Operation Condor. Outside what are now some of the most peaceful neighborhoods in Latin America, the sidewalks remember: a tile on Scalabrini Ortiz, in Palermo, marks Daniel Jorge Bertoni, a veterinarian and father of four, disappeared by state terrorism on September 2, 1977. Now people are focused, heavily, on peace, quality of life, justice and community. A city can keep its past without being kept by it.

A mosaic memory tile in a Palermo sidewalk: here Daniel Jorge Bertoni was kidnapped by state terrorism, 2-9-1977
The tile itself, on Scalabrini Ortiz: “Aquí fue secuestrado por el terrorismo de estado Daniel Jorge Bertoni, 2-9-1977.” Here, Daniel Jorge Bertoni was kidnapped by state terrorism, September 2, 1977. Photo: Kyle Fahey
A mural of a boy peering over a wall of hand-painted, multicolored bricks
A mural: a boy peering over a wall of painted bricks. Photo: Kyle Fahey
New Year’s, 2020, from a balcony. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: Memoria Palermo: Daniel Jorge Bertoni, the Ezeiza massacre, Operation Condor, the Dirty War

Photo: Jimmy Baikovicius, CC BY-SA 2.0

Horses grazing before the Cuernos del Paine in Chilean Patagonia

Across the Andes, a country still deciding what to keep and what to tear down.

06

Chile

Santiago’s Bellavista and Centro, then Patagonia

Santiago wants stability, at almost any cost. Pinochet left a mark you can still feel. Buenos Aires sets its memory into the sidewalk; Santiago holds it in people’s hearts. But people striving for a better quality of life will tear down what doesn’t work. In 2019 the protests left whole blocks of central Santiago scarred; a year later, 78% voted to replace his constitution. Then they rejected two drafts, and kept it. As an American, I learned what it’s like to be the foreigner people are wary of, and why: here, the United States isn’t an abstraction. It’s the coup in 1973. Further south, Patagonia: the real land’s end, where isolation is beautiful, and taxing.

A water cannon sprays protesters holding a union banner on a Santiago avenue
Santiago, 2019. Photo: Kyle Fahey
Carabineros in riot gear walk past a burning barricade on a Santiago street
Carabineros and a barricade, the same week. Photo: Kyle Fahey
A deliveryman in a red shirt unloads a side of beef from a truck on a Santiago street
And the city keeps working: a morning delivery. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: the US and the 1973 coup, 2019 protests, 2020 referendum, 2022, 2023

Photo: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 3.0

The Plaza de España in Seville

Eventually I went back to where so much of it began.

07

The Iberian Peninsula

We inherit our systems the way we inherit our genes. It goes deeper than language: the same flavor of bureaucracy, the same faces. Thousands of miles from Medellín, I kept recognizing people I’d never met and systems I’d never seen. Not everything crossed the ocean; Colombia built plenty of its own. But enough did. It’s a trip.

The mounted guard parading past the Jerónimos Monastery in Belém, Lisbon
The mounted guard, Belém. Photo: Kyle Fahey
An arch over tram lines in Bairro Alto, silhouetted at sunset
Bairro Alto at sunset. Photo: Kyle Fahey
Seville Cathedral, after dark. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Photo: Carlos Delgado, CC BY-SA 4.0

Downtown Phoenix at night, the city lights reaching to the mountains

And then another city in a valley.

08

Phoenix

Planted, for now. Still exploring when I can.

A community within a valley. Nearly five million people, and one of the only places that has ever felt like one cohesive community. It feels like everyone knows each other, despite how large it is. A city can be vast and still feel like a neighborhood.

A rusted station wagon armored with mesh and a mock turret, stopped at a Phoenix intersection
A regular at the light. Photo: Kyle Fahey
The Superstition Mountains above the Sonoran Desert east of Phoenix, a stone wall under a palo verde tree
The Superstitions, east of town. Photo: Kyle Fahey

Sources: 2020 Census, metro Phoenix

Photo: Alan Stark, CC BY-SA 2.0

The chapters are where I stayed long enough to learn something. The rest is where I went looking.

Travelled

Micro adventures, usually by car, one micro-region at a time.

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

Henry Miller, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, 1957
A map of everywhere I’ve lived and travelledHawaii

And more to explore.

Every place, by region

Antioquia

Envigado, Jardín, Guatapé, Santa Elena

The Coffee Region

Manizales, Pereira, Salento, Filandia

The Caribbean coast

Cartagena, Islas del Rosario, Barú, Barranquilla, Santa Marta, Tayrona National Park

Iberia

Madrid, Lisbon, Lagos

Morocco

Marrakech, Casablanca

France

Nice

Italy

Venice, Rome, Naples, Capri

Greece

Athens, Rhodes

Mexico

San Miguel de Allende

Arizona

Sedona

The desert

Palm Springs, Coachella Valley dunes, Bombay Beach, Slab City

Florida

Miami, Orlando

The Caribbean

Grand Cayman, Cancún

The Carolinas and Georgia

Charleston, Myrtle Beach, Raleigh, Atlanta, Savannah

The Midwest

Charleston, Dayton, Fort Wayne, Dubuque, Des Moines, Milwaukee, Green Bay, Minneapolis, Omaha, Kansas City

Tennessee

Nashville

New England and Quebec

Burlington, Montreal

Rockies

Denver, Boulder, Aspen, Vail

Utah

Salt Lake City, Park City

Yellowstone

Yellowstone, Billings, Little Bighorn, Mount Rushmore, Jackson Hole

Pacific Northwest

Seattle, Mount Olympus, Port Angeles, Portland, Astoria

California

Crescent City, Eureka, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego

Hawaii

Honolulu, Ko Olina, Kawela Bay, Līhuʻe, Princeville

Dashed lines are a flight into a region, from Chicago or Medellín; solid lines are drives, including the desert trips from Phoenix. Land: Natural Earth.

What it adds up to

Every system I build has people inside it. The places taught me to start with them.

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