Reimagining Albuquerque

Notes from a car-free life in the high desert, between bus stops, taquerias, and a future worth fighting for.

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Leaving and Returning

Leaving Albuquerque provides you with a lot of insight into what it is like to live in a bigger city. The subway is a 10 minute walk away, and the supermarket, sandwich shop, and bar are right next to it. A stop away is work, and a few stops beyond that is Downtown, where you can bump into friends, shop, dance, and run into your crush at 1am, drunk, with tzatziki sauce dripping down your shirt.

Moving back to Albuquerque—unaware that a global pandemic was about to sweep through society and upend everything, especially urban life—offered a chance to rethink what it means to live that life in the Southwest. The southwest isn’t known for its urbanism, after all. When you tell people where you are from, they ask if it’s really as crazy as in Breaking Bad, or share stories about the crystals they bought during a life-changing roadtrip through Santa Fe and Abiquiu.

But, ART had been approved and construction updates trickled through Facebook and Twitter feeds, and knowing it would be there made the idea of the Southwest appealing again. Previously, living in Albuquerque meant car maintenance, commutes, and long walks in the sun (or wind), so maybe things would be different, now. After all, it was also showing up on bike-friendly lists, and that’s a good sign, right?

ART recently has reached 10,000,000 rides and the backlash has largely died down (even if some local politicians are trying to bring it back as a culture war issue for a cynical mayoral campaign), and it brings reflection on what urbanism is like here. Has it become possible? It might not be as easy as in those big East Coast Cities (or, gasp, Europe), but it is possible. And it isn’t just bloggers on the internet thinking about this, popular Youtuber CityNerd has not only featured Albuquerque in a few of his urbanist videos, he also lived here and advocated for Albuquerque’s nascent emergence as an urbanist destination. ART, then, is responsible for at least two urbanists moving to or back to Albuquerque. So, it is possible to live an urbanist life here, if sometimes frustrating.

Everyone drives in Albuquerque

If you don’t use a car, or have one, people will be shocked by how you get around. “How did you get to the office today?”—”Oh my god, do you need a ride home?”—”I could never take the bus, I have an anxiety disorder.”

Doesn’t your anxiety disorder also flare up on I-25 when you have to slam on the brakes at 80mph?

But you also find out that, like you, other people don’t drive. Like you, they shop, eat at restaurants, and lose a potential mortgage to avocado toast and artisanal pancakes at The Grove. You might recognize the Lyft driver that takes you home from the bar because the ART stops at 11:00pm on weekends. And you start to recognize the regulars on your bus routes. On the early bus, you might see the small group of nurses that always sit together on the 11, heading to UNMH. If you ride later and take the ART, you might spot the teaching assistant from the university who once dropped their notes all over the floor. You helped them pick everything up. You don’t talk, but you recognize each other now. A quiet nod, a friendly smile. Fellow bus riders in a city where everyone drives and no one takes the bus.

(Some) people walk in Albuquerque

The best places to walk and the best buildings to look at in Albuquerque are generally in the places where your coworkers will tell you to “never go.” Walking from Barelas to Downtown, the smaller buildings with hand-painted murals, the shops, the small restaurants, all provide for drops of sweet serotonin. Getting to Central, the vestiges of what Albuquerque once was stand out. My favorites change weekly. Lately, i’ve been in love with the Rosenwald Building. Inhabited by a police substation and empty otherwise, waiting. Like most of Downtown, just waiting.

My least favorite buildings—and places—in Albuquerque are the places people say they like, or at least, aren’t afraid to visit. Uptown, for example. The walk along Menaul gives you the big, grey mall on one side framed by its sea of parking, and tire shops on the other, while you get to enjoy inhaling exhaust fumes. And for the coworkers who think Central, Barelas, or anything south of I-40 is dangerous? Visiting the Target can feel like a suicide mission when crossing the street. The planners of the past never really intended people to step outside of the buildings though, did they? The utopic vision of the car-centric era. Pull up, go in, and buy what the marketers tell you to. I’ll keep my Central Avenue and the people asking for a light, thank you very much.

Leaving the neighborhood

It all comes back to ART. ABQ Ride is a broken system that does miracle-level work on a shoe-string budget. Neglected by city leaders—unless they are trying to get into the headlines for cynical reasons—it… Mostly works. But ART is different. It is largely dependable, despite some quirks. It is a true BRT with dedicated lanes and platform stations. A pneumatic light rail. It’s hard not to call it excellent—and harder still not to feel like you’re carrying a cross and a sword every time you defend it against the negativity and misinformation that inevitably comes.

For urbanists and non-urbanists alike, Albuquerque shines when it comes to cuisine. ART connects to some of the best restaurants in the country—Duran’s and Farina—for example. And personal favorites, too, like El Patio, Cocina Azul, Thai II, and Pho #1 (R.I.P. May Cafe). Supposedly, we transit riders don’t contribute to the local economy. My credit card statement would disagree.

Optimism

ART remains one of the few true sources of optimism for the Albuquerque urbanist. Despite years of lawsuits, backlash, NIMBY outrage, and misinformation, it stands as proof that we can build good things—and that they can work. O-69 hopefully defanged the NIMBY machine in Albuquerque, we shall see. The coming years also show promise with momentum for zoning justice as well as ABQ Ride Forward, which might bring the rest of the ABQ Ride transit network up to a usable standard.

Despite that, it is easy to think that if Albuquerque doesn’t make more meaningful changes in the next few years, it may be time to set sail for other ports. It often feels that our councilors and mayor are more afraid of cranky busybodies in Westside neighborhood associations or bored retirees with nothing better to do than pester urban planners than it cares about brain-drain, loss of investment, and losing a generation to other, greener pastures. Still, recently, new groups have formed and changed the narrative. They have disrupted the old flow of things, the slow-drip of complacency, self-deprecation, and resistance to everything. There is hope for Albuquerque, for urbanism in the southwest, and for people to vote for environmentally friendly ways of being. It’s up to us to pushback on harmful narratives and stake our claim. Hey, it’s an election year! Let’s help the officials that placate NIMBYs pack their bags and get some new blood into government. After all, San Mateo is ready for its ART line treatment and we are tired of waiting.

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Do you live car-free or car-light in ABQ and care about Urbanism? Want to share your own urbanist reflections? Send a draft to reimaginingalbuquerque@gmail.com and we may share it.

With or without attribution, up to you 😉