It has become fashionable lately to discuss the modern city in terms of friendliness.

A city can have a friendly architecture or a friendly outlook. It can be tourist-friendly or even family-friendly. Books and articles about the subject of modern urban life are as common today as those on any other subject.

Analysts and commentators use various ways to measure happiness, friendliness, and, of course, air pollution or recycling methods to establish which would be the best city to live in. That said, it is interesting to note that few of these researches are interested in seeing the perspective of a city's most ordinary citizens, those who, by virtue of their class, race or ethnicity, profession or other non-mainstream (personal) choices, are compelled to know their city from the street level: pedestrians.

Winter has settled for good in our city, a friendly city by many of the standards listed above. While most of us agree that for Quebec City winter is the season that defines it, not all of us look forward to the coming months.

And it is not because it is cold and it becomes increasingly difficult to wait for the bus or to carry groceries. It is rather difficult to be a pedestrian in this city during warmer winter days, when the snow melts and the street becomes one big urban delta. It is not yet the case, although it was the case around Christmas.
And it will certainly come back. For pedestrians, Quebec City can be a winter nightmare, not wonderland.

Our municipal authorities struggle to keep the roads clear for vehicles first. People must be able to get to their workplace, to take their children to school, to shop and dine, in other words, to go on with their lives without feeling winter as a disruption.

For the less privileged, the pedestrians, when the snow starts melting - and this happens several times during winter and spring - the good life is over. While the main sidewalks are, in a sense, made practicable, the bus stations are not. It becomes impossible to get on or off the bus without literally drowning. It becomes inevitable to arrive someplace without getting dirt all over your clothes, sometimes your face, as cars drive by in a hurry while you are quietly waiting to cross the street or for your bus.

Winter after winter, the problem is the same: the roads are clear, the sideways less, but the bus stops or the crosswalks are flooded. I should probably mention here that I am not referring to obscure, rarely used streets. I am referring to main streets, big bus stops, used by thousands of people daily.

What does this say about our city? Does it say that (the less privileged) pedestrians do not count?

Would it be such a great expense to clean these areas properly so as to give a chance to normal life to a great number of people? How friendly can a city be when those that need its help, its protection, are constantly forgotten?

At this time of year, my answers to these questions are not flattering. In winter, there is a distinct division in our society: car owners and pedestrians. This division, as any other we are tying to overcome rationally, is not a healthy one and it reflects badly on our local authorities and their idea of what a friendly city really is.

Cristina Artenie
Pedestrian