Guess the location . . .

. . . and the urban planning difference.

Update: OK, when I posted this, I was planning on adding commentary after a day or two, then got sidetracked. (Sorry, short attention span = inconsistent at follow-through.) Anyway, here it is again, for any new readers, and this weekend I’ll write about this.

Further update:
Here’s the answer:  it’s on the outskirts of Nuremburg, that is, the medium-sized city (home of one of the more famous Christmas Markets) north of Munich in Bavaria.  The is not the former communist East Germany, nor any former Warsaw Pact country.

This is just part and parcel of Germany’s very deliberate urban planning.  Unlike American suburbs, where the zoning generally aims for the least dense development possible, while still being affordable enough for someone to buy the houses, the German approach is to be as dense as will be tolerated, even at the edge of town.

And this isn’t all bad — it makes for not just viable but extensive public transportation networks, and it means that, even in large cities, residents still have ready access to the outdoors.

Or, at least, I know this:  We lived on the outskirts of Munich, literally — our small rowhouse development was at the edge of suburban Munich, beyond which was a substantial forest, and from there the villages had much more the character of small farming villages (in the manner in which German farmhouses are clustered in very small villages with parcels of farmland radiating out from the village, rather than independent farmsteads) than suburbs.  (Though the next town out did have the character of a suburb, it was far from a suburb in the American sense.)  And yet it was a half hour into the city center on the slow streetcar, or 20 minutes by car — so, of course, just as easy for city-dwellers to get out of the city and onto the forest bike paths or the country roads (which generally had sidewalks/bike paths).  One of our favorite beergardens was, in fact, at the edge the forest, and had quite a customer base due to its location next to the commuter train stop, and also had a rather full bike rack on weekends.

And this was possible due to the fact that, well, those Muenchners were not literally packed in like sardines, but apartment-dwelling was the norm, not just for hip youngsters, but for families.  Every weekend, the paper would have a real estate section, featuring a lot of rowhouses and apartment buildings particularly in a couple new redevelopments, with apartments (more low-and mid-rise than these highrises) being advertised as “family friendly” due to such features as playgrounds in the courtyards.

Now, that’s not to say that all Germans live in apartments.  My husband grew up in a rowhouse, in a small town-turned-suburb, and his sister now also lives in a rowhouse.  And, during our expat assignment, we lived in a rowhouse, and knew people living in rowhouses, or two-flats or even single family homes — due to our generous company living allowance.

But here’s the thing — I think I’ve said this before:  when Americans find that dense city living doesn’t fit with having kids, they move to the suburbs.  When Germans find that dense city living makes having kids a hassle, well, they don’t have kids.  (For more on fertility rates, see this prior post; for more on Germany, see here.)