THEY pretty much always find a way, on Amsterdam’s ‘Woonerf’-style streets in the city’s Old Town districts.
Whether small van, car, sit-up-and-beg bicycle, cargo bike or fat-tyred electric bike, the weaving in and out seems to just work.
If there is anything to be concerned about, it is most likely with the electric bikes, which can be ridden at some speed.
There are hardly any road signs, not even a No Entry to designate a street as one-way, even though a ‘Woonerf’ street is typically narrow and a combination of a little car parking, bollards, space for pedestrians, trees, seating and potted plants (bamboo, lavender, azalea, hydrangea, etc).
In Amsterdam’s Old Town, its ‘Woonerfs’ are usually straight, taking their cue from the canals that cross-cross the area. But in another setting, they could be curving, to potentially further slow vehicular traffic.
Straight or curving, the average Woonerf is most definitely human-scale - as are, as one might expect, the houses that line them, almost all of them a single apartment in width and three or four storeys in height, topped usually by A-framed ornamentation.
There is little land given over to no real purpose such as ‘municipal grass’.
If narrow streets equate to an efficient use of land for housing, they also attract crowds.
Most architectural pilgrimages to Amsterdam usually also take in the artificial islands of IJburg and its new town (you get there by hopping on to a No.26 tram which departs from the east side of Centraal rail station). But be prepared: there’s nothing like the same numbers of people wandering its streets.
There might be pockets of houses in IJburg that draw inspiration from the city’s Old Town, but for the most part it’s big, pretty soulless boxes lined up with a precision that only a 3D model designer could love.
Of course, land prices back in the day are unlikely to have been as eye-watering as they are now, thus pressuring developers to build high and without a single craftsperson in sight.
But compared to Scotland’s seeming infatuation with low-rise housing - separated by relatively wide roads - Amsterdam’s Old Town architecture serves to offer a glimpse of pretty high density and resulting thriving neighbourhoods (the density providing the critical mass for cultural amenities such as shops, studios and workshops to be set up).
Density is recognised in Scotland’s latest planning guidelines - the National Planning Framework (fourth edition), especially on pages 11, 129 and 132.
In a similar vein, the Royal Town Planning Institute recommends (here) 65 houses per hectare. As does (here) the local government leadership and advice body, the Improvement Service.
The question is, however, to what extent these aspirations will end up being condemned to mere academic curiosity?
Self-evidently, narrow, intimate streets are a significant step towards achieving the ’65 dwellings’ density threshold.
If they are anathema to ‘petrol heads’, they need not be to delivery companies or emergency services. The average ‘Woonerf’ is more than wide enough for an ambulance or fire engine, and not so narrow as to potentially feel unsafe (and anyway, they benefit from many eyes on the street).
And just because a transit van might have to be driven at a slow speed, to safely negotiate pedestrians and cyclists, there is the alternative of the cargo bike (electric, if necessary) to make deliveries.
Meanwhile, the apartment-wide detailing of an Old Town block in Amsterdam provides compelling visual interest (at ground level, mostly by retail) and offers single plot opportunities for both SMEs and self-builders.
(In passing, should economies of scale and floorplans require apartment blocks that are more than one apartment-wide, it should be still possible to replicate the facades from the Old Town pattern book).
So, we are beginning to inch our way towards a new, potentially radical housing template for a future Scotland (albeit at neighbourhood level than anything smaller): we build narrow and up (three or four storeys) for our housing and we build also narrow for our streets.
Of course, there is always going to be a clamour for car ownership and - notwithstanding the savings that households might enjoy by sharing cars - they will need to be parked somewhere; most likely underground or at the back of buildings.
And we now turn to a feature less obvious in Amsterdam than it is in cities such as Turin and Seville: namely, the off-street small courtyard and accompanying apartment block, protected by a metal gate or heavy door.
It’s a configuration that provides not only security against unauthorised access, but it is the beginnings of a neighbourly community.
If there is truly a demand for gardening - and, increasingly, it feels there is not - then there is not only the courtyard itself, but also the possibility of balconies and a dedicated rooftop garden. And if demand dictates, there should be nothing to prevent the overall streetscape design somehow incorporating allotments.
Gardening is a neighbourly activity, as is saying hello in a stairwell or elevator. It can, of course, get much more pro-actively neighbourly, with common insurance, guest bedrooms, a residents’ lounge and a culture of sharing (and saving money) - not just cars, perhaps, but power tools, washing machines, etc.
The choice is clear.
On the one hand: atomised housing, separated by wide roads, that is so far away from anything that a private car (and accompanying driveway) feels absolutely necessary.
And, on the other: three-or-four storey apartment-wide housing plots, each offering their own blank creative canvas looking on to a narrow ‘Woonerf’….. with car parking placed mostly out of sight, where cargo bikes replace lorries and transit vans, and where shops, studios and workshops are going to have a decent chance of survival.
Where, in addition, there is a more than even chance of people feeling safe in their own homes, alongside neighbours they at least know and might even trust.
And where savings can be made: not only in the efficient use of land, or in the sharing of ‘stuff’, but in costs to the NHS of people feeling lonely and stressed.
It’s pretty low-hanging fruit, this new, proposed template for neighbourhood design in Scotland.
But it will take some pretty dramatic mindset shifts to grab it.
Surely, the time is now. Will Scotland be brave enough?
Mike Wilson is a member of TheHousingDebate team
Image details: A typical Amsterdam ‘Woonerf’; copyright Mike Wilson