Issues

Mellow Yellow

Stylist: Kyoko Tamoto
Hair & Make-up: Julia Kraemer
Model: Timothé Echelard
Local producer: Bianca Scherr
Location: Rainha Beach Club

On the up

1.
Warsaw
Poland

Some 34 years since the fall of communism, Warsaw is a thriving European capital with an increasingly international population. When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, the city welcomed 300,000 Ukrainian refugees with open arms, boosting Warsaw’s population by about 17 per cent. It is something of a domestic political haven too: while the country is governed by the socially conservative Law and Justice party, the city has a liberal mayor, Rafal Trzaskowski.

Beyond the concrete-heavy centre, Warsaw has lots of green space and neighbourhoods such as Mokotow, Zoliborz and Saska Kepa draw young families with their leafy streets and sought-after pre-war apartments (much of the city was destroyed during the Second World War). Once the weather warms, the embankment along the Vistula, which splits the city, comes alive with joggers, cyclists and people making the most of the outdoor seating. Between the hearty Georgian bakeries, the endless vegetarian options and the traditional Polish fare, the city’s food scene is increasingly diverse too. Decent coffee is no longer hard to find either.

However, problems do remain, including air pollution, with Warsaw recording some of the worst for a capital city in Europe. Plans announced by Trzaskowski this year will ban old petrol and diesel cars from the city centre from July 2024. And while life in Warsaw has continued much as usual despite the war in neighbouring Ukraine, inflation in Poland has surged, reaching more than 18 per cent in early 2023. Housing has become more expensive and, exacerbated by the influx of refugees, hard to find. But you won’t catch many Poles complaining about this: support for the Ukrainian struggle is one of the few things that unites people in this increasingly polarised country.

2.
Kuala Lumpur
Malaysia

For years, the Malaysian capital has quietly been one of Southeast Asia’s most pleasant places to live, with high living standards and a less hectic street life than some of its regional counterparts. Affordable retail rents have allowed independent shops and creative spaces to flourish, including APW, an old printing-press site converted into a semi-outdoor complex to comprise wine bars, coffee shops and fashion labels, and the Zhongshan Building, a former commercial block that now houses artist studios, booksellers, bakeries and stationery shops. Cultural events such as the KL Art Book Fair, launched in 2021, are giving residents more to explore and drawing regional artists and publishers to the city.

Kuala Lumpur has always had an outsized culinary influence but the restaurant and bar scene is booming, with new openings led by young Malaysian chefs and mixologists, from envelope-pushing fine-dining restaurant Eat and Cook to experimental bistro Small Shifting Space and cocktail bar Sanctuary 38. Though Kuala Lumpur is not widely known for its natural attractions, the city is one of Asia’s greenest. The verdant Perdana Botanical Garden is a tranquil green lung right in the centre with jogging and cycling paths, a large lake and a rich living collection of tropical flora. More adventurous trekkers can easily explore the many slivers of rainforested greenery that dot downtown.

Traffic is an ongoing issue in this sprawling metropolis, however, and recent improvements in public transport have not proved sufficient to wean residents off their cars. Train delays and a lack of last-mile connectivity at stations have hindered the effectiveness of commuter rail lines. Solving these issues would mean more passengers and less traffic and pollution. A long-anticipated high-speed rail that was set to link Kuala Lumpur and Singapore was terminated in 2021 after a long impasse; reviving this project would be a coup for the current government and a huge quality-of-life boost for the city’s residents.

3.
Mérida
Mexico

With its streets fringed with colonial-era, pastel-hued buildings and haciendas built during the boom of the henequen industry, Mérida has one of the prettiest historic centres in Mexico. While the beauty is one of the more obvious reasons creatives have been lured here, the city’s affordability is also part of its attraction. When renowned curator and gallerist José García relocated to Mérida from Mexico City in 2016, he was able to buy a gallery space rather than rent. “It’s easy to be creative because it’s more affordable,” says García, who now owns five businesses across the city, including Salón Gallos, an exhibition space that also comprises a restaurant, cinema and bar.

More affordable housing and studio spaces have been a major draw for artists and creatives from elsewhere in Mexico, as well as the US and beyond, inviting a wave of new businesses, including China Arts Objects, a gallery that was previously based in Los Angeles.

The population growth in Mérida has been steady, with an increase of 19.08 per cent between 2010 and 2020, yet it still doesn’t feel like a sprawling metropolis. “Even though it has the commodities of a city, you still feel like you’re in a small town,” says García. The downside of this is that business can be sluggish. “It’s not as profitable as Mexico City and it takes longer to do good business,” says García. However, considering it’s also one of the safest cities in the country, with easy access to nearby beaches, for many, the slow growth is certainly worth it.

4.
Rabat
Morocco

In Morocco, there is a friendly rivalry between those who reside in the industrial hub of Casablanca and those who call the capital Rabat home. Speak to inhabitants of the former and they might tell you that the latter is too pristine, shiny and lacking in soul.

This is true to some degree – and in keeping with what you might expect from the city dubbed “the Washington of North Africa”. But it’s also a key part of what attracts people to this coastal metropolis. Morocco’s bureaucratic centre and “royal city” is remarkably clean, immaculately well kept and, according to the 2023 edition of Numbeo’s global safety index, the safest city in Africa. From its tidy tree-lined streets and neat residential enclaves to the good conditions of its roads (particularly when compared to neighbouring cities), Rabat is a place that always feels looked after, wherever you venture. Framed by the Atlantic to the west and the lush rolling scenery of surrounding fields, you don’t have to travel too far to find natural beauty either.

Those seeking a little more in terms of culture might instead gravitate towards Tangier, Marrakech or the aforementioned Casablanca. Locals, however, would point to a growing number of restaurants that are helping to reinforce Rabat’s culinary offering. As the city emerges as a regional business hub, more hotels and smoother airport experiences would be welcome as international visitors begin arriving in greater numbers.

5.
Dubai
UAE

It might seem odd to describe Dubai as a city to watch, when many feel that it has most definitely already arrived, particularly coming into its own during the pandemic. The success of its balanced approach with regards to public health, enabling trade and commerce while preparing for the recovery, can be seen in the swift return of millions of tourists. Plenty of people, those from the Russian-speaking world included, have also chosen to make Dubai home in the past two years, drawn to the emirate by its high levels of safety, access to quality health care, education and the vibrant lifestyle it offers.

Of course, the flipside to any population spike is the upward pressure it puts on prices, particularly housing costs. Dubai’s growth has also triggered an inevitable increase in grumbling about traffic that affects everyone living in the city, regardless of wealth or status. While congestion on the roads seems to be a common problem for many cities around the region, Dubai is tackling the issue in typically dazzling fashion. From testing autonomous vehicles for transporting goods to preparing infrastructure and regulations for flying taxis to carry people across the city’s skyline, no solution is apparently too fantastical.

It is highly likely, however, given the ever-evolving nature of Dubai, that the tension between the benefits and drawbacks provided by the rapid diversification of an economy and growth in population will remain a fixture – the true figure now feels far higher than the 2018 data point of approximately three million people. But it will be a fixture that ebbs and flows over time, just like the cars travelling along the Sheikh Zayed Road.

Man for all seasons

Not all green spaces are created equal. “In most cities, you’ll find lots of lawns and trees,” says Dutch garden designer Piet Oudolf. “But in a good park, you’ll find different elements working together: plants and creatures that you don’t usually see in a city. It benefits not only human beings but everything around us, from bees to birds.”

Few gardeners are household names. But Oudolf, who is best known for helping to transform an abandoned railwayin New York into the High Line and designing landscapes for the likes of Vitra and Hauser & Wirth, has exported his gardening model to cities around the globe.

Working mainly with perennial plants, the garden designer’s approach to planting prioritises structure and stability over colour. He believes that seeing plants respond to seasonal changes helps people in urban environments to forge better connections with the natural world. “The city won’t change but everything around it will,” he says. “People know the difference between spring and autumn – that experience is magnified in a green space. And the more diverse the planting, the better it is to walk through.”

Oudolf, now 78, rose to prominence after he and his wife, Anja, founded a plant nursery in the Dutch rural community of Hummelo in 1982. “We grew plants that we thought were interesting; ones that weren’t available in nurseries anywhere else,” he says. “And we started gaining a reputation for that.” Then, in the early 2000s, after Oudolf had made a name for himself in Europe, Chicago tasked him with designing the Lurie Garden in the Millennium Park.

So what’s Oudolf’s advice for younger garden designers looking to get into the field? “Work with your hands and work in a practice rather than in an office,” he says. “It’s important that people learn what can go wrong. Make mistakes and don’t be afraid to do things wrong; it’s all a learning experience. I still make little errors and they help me to innovate.” These days, Oudolf spends his time supervising the installation of gardens, sketching plans for future designs and collaborating with a wider network of landscape architects and planting experts. He’s now working with James Corner, who designed New York’s High Line, London practice vppr Architects, community-engagement specialists Street Space and the London Wildlife Trust to bring an urban regeneration project to the British capital. The Camden Highline will transform a strip of land alongside a railway track into an elevated park and walking route, breathing new life into a previously disused area that weaves through some of the borough’s most densely populated areas. The project will include play areas for children, volunteer-run allotments and an outdoor classroom.

“We need green,” says Oudolf. “There’s a reason why people have plants in their houses. Experiencing the beauty of a good park is a great escape.”

Switched on

Sonicare 9900 Prestige toothbrush
Philips

As you would hope, Sonicare electric toothbrushes are exemplary at cleaning teeth and massaging gums. This one even has a smartphone app that can tell whether you’re brushing too hard. A USB-C connector on the case means that it’s easy to recharge – the brush lasts a good week between charges. A breath of fresh air.
philips.com

Beosound A5 Bluetooth speaker
Bang & Olufsen

This slick portable speaker has a timeless quality with an aluminium build, wooden handle and a modular design that allows parts to be replaced if they wear out. The top includes a wireless charging panel so you can juice your phone while you stream music from it. It’s also dust- and water-resistant so you can listen poolside – assuming your neighbours approve.
bang-olufsen.com

AirFly SE Bluetooth adapter
Twelve South

In-flight entertainment is usually a no-go zone for true wireless headphones as you need a wired connection, so the AirFly is here to help. Connect it wirelessly to your AirPods (or any other Bluetooth headphones). Then plug the AirFly into the headphone socket on the plane and you’re set. Works well for fitness equipment in the gym too, if you’re active during your trip.
twelvesouth.com

Studio Buds+ earbuds
Beats

The latest earbuds from the Apple-owned headphone brand have noise-cancelling, so you can hear your music whether you’re on a plane or by a busy hotel pool. They come in several colours but the most striking is a transparent version. Where AirPods are best suited to those with Apple products, Beats has greater compatibility with both iPhone and Android users.
beatsbydre.com

65-watt power adapter
Nomad

Nomad’s products are well-made and thoughtfully designed. This plug is useful thanks to two USB-C sockets and plenty of power (65 watts), delivering up to 45 watts from the top socket and 20 watts from the lower. This means that you can charge a laptop and tablet at the same time. If you don’t need twin sockets, there are 20-watt and 30-watt options.
nomadgoods.com

Xperia 1 V smartphone
Sony

Sony’s smartphones are distinctive, with a 21:9 aspect ratio to the OLED display. Unusually for a flagship phone, there’s a headphone jack. The 6.5in display has 4K resolution and it has a physical shutter button for speedy access to the trio of cameras, which include an impressive 52-megapixel sensor. Photo and video capabilities are strong, even in low light.
sony.com

AirTag
Apple

Keep track of your luggage, keys or anything else with Apple’s tiny tracker. If you lose your belongings, you can locate the attached tag through an app. In Lost Mode, the AirTag silently sends an alert to any passing Apple device and the encrypted message is relayed to you, showing the location on a map. The tag is battery-powered and lasts a year or more.
apple.com

Series 9 Pro electric shaver with PowerCase
Braun

The Series 9 Pro electric shaver sounds complicated but is satisfyingly simple, managing short stubble and stray hairs. And it’s perfect to travel with, thanks to the PowerCase, which has a battery inside. If the shaver runs out, tap the power button in the case to recharge it. There’s another charging cable you can leave at home.
braun.com

Belt Cable Duo
Native Union

Cables when travelling are tedious; you almost always forget the one you need. Native Union has designed a two-in-one cable which comes to the rescue. One end is USB-C, so make sure you bring the right power adapter for that. But the other has two connectors for either USB-C (laptops, tablets and Android phones) or Lightning (iPhone, some iPads and AirPods). Neat.
nativeunion.com

QuietComfort 45 headphones
Bose

Bose over-ear headphones are ideal for travel. Lightweight, they offer more powerful sound than in-ear headphones. Noise-cancelling from Bose is second-to-none, so even the harshest background noise shouldn’t interfere with what you’re listening to. You can turn noise-cancelling off and the audio is still immersive, balancing clarity with strong bass.
bose.com

Growing strong

At Minagarten, a community-focused development at the heart of the Minaga neighbourhood in Hiroshima, the morning unfolds slowly. There’s a gentle breeze wafting down the Yawata River as children wander off to school on paths cut amid the glossy plant life shimmering in the pale morning sun.

Bakers are preparing pastries and loaves of shokupan (Japanese milk bread) as a visiting barista lugs bags of coffee beans and staff begin to set tables for the first customers. Under the sprawling Japanese maple, volunteer Lan Haguma, who fell in love with the project after attending a pruning workshop, is about to start a round of watering.

Developed in increments over the past three years, Minagarten is a village-like mixed-use community based around a renovated warehouse. For founder Chiharu Taniguchi, the project began with a deep dive into the history of Minaga, where her family has lived for the past 430 years. Central to the redevelopment of the former Shinya Farm site was the community’s wellbeing and way of life. “Viewing the site as one big garden, I wanted to create a landscape and then incorporate houses, shops and other amenities,” Taniguchi tells Monocle on a tour. “The aim was to create symphony, rather than division. By bringing people together, I wanted to create a community enriched through sharing.” Her research revealed that many centuries ago, Minaga was often flooded by runoff from the nearby mountains. However, the collective efforts of citizens led to the implementation of flood-control measures that made the area liveable.Then in the 1970s, the construction of a bypass prompted a new wave of development. Areas once home to fields were turned into housing and Minaga took shape as a commuter town. It was during this time that the Taniguchi family business founded its farm and horticultural wholesaler. Originally cultivating orchid seedlings and tulip bulbs, it soon became a bustling hub supplying garden products to the Chugoku and Shikoku regions. When the business closed in 2017, Taniguchi set about working on Minaga’s next chapter: a business that might help to grow a budding new community and tempt people who grew up here to move back.

“I grew up surrounded by the mountains and nature, so working in the garden here feels like I’m connecting to my roots,” says volunteer Haguma, who is a hairdresser by day. Watering duties aside, she now also works out of the› complex’s Salon Élan Vital, a beauty parlour and spa that offers massages and clay treatments. Returning to her native Hiroshima after years living in Tokyo, she finds fulfilment in contributing to the community. In her eyes, the Minagarten development is a place for ikoi: a Japanese expression for rest and relaxation.

Throughout this journey, Taniguchi has been conscious of honouring the history that the project inherited. Equally important was a communal approach to placemaking, inviting the public to help shape the development. Work began with an art event in 2020, which saw the warehouse floor painted as a vibrant flower garden, making a platform for concerts, markets and a range of events. In the years that followed, the three-storey building became home to a bakery, salon and other retail spaces. In the large plot across the road where greenhouses once stood, the residences were constructed in a village-like arrangement around a central garden.

At the development’s heart is the Companion Plants bakery, the first outpost for chef Ippei Sato, formerly of 365 Jours in Tokyo’s Tomigaya neighbourhood. “I didn’t just want to open a bakery; I wanted to create a place where people love to work,” says Sato. “Minagarten’s concept of creating a gathering place for the community resonated with me, so I decided to come on board.”

Sato and his team bake about 40 varieties of bread, from tulip-inspired buns to pistachio-cream doughnuts and chocolate croissants. The bakery services the café alongside the in-house coffee stand called Watering Duty. A different barista is assigned for each day of the week, bringing his or her own menu and styles ranging from single- origin brews to vegan lattes.

Providing diversions for the residents is one thing but the community thrives on tempting visitors as well. On the building’s top floor, a hybrid retail, workshop and gallery space is managed by a team of young creators including a woodworker, a basket weaver and a painter. At a large table surrounded by an assortment of antiques and furniture, Kanoko Nakashima is running a weekly calligraphy workshop. “Even just preparing the ink provides you with a moment of quiet,” she says with a satisfied grin. “People are so busy and often can’t find time for themselves. Calligraphy can be a form of mindfulness, bringing a hint of happiness to daily life.”

The sharing of knowledge also forms a key part of Minagarten, which provides both the platform and programming to encourage such exchanges. The community garden, a short stroll down the street, hosts hands-on workshops twice a week under the guidance of 75-year-old Hitoshi Sogawa.

“Places with this kind of freedom are almost non-existent these days,” says garden researcher Sogawa. “It’s so important to come into contact with the soil. You can experience that here, feeling the vitality of the plants. Growing plants is like caring for children. I teach people the importance of observing plants in order to truly understand their needs.”

With an eye on the future, Taniguchi has plans to launch an artist-in-residence programme, which will host artists and aspiring creators for mid-to long-term stays. She also works with other community and urban development projects, using them to share her expertise and learnings with a wider audience. From the neighbourhood of Minaga to the world, Minagarten provides a glimpse into how a garden-inspired community development can put down roots and grow.
minagarten.jp

Book smart
Minagarten has grown organically and implemented small-scale initiatives. Case in point: Mina Books. The shop offers shelves for hire that enable curators to introduce readers to a mix of literary genres and audiences. There are offerings from Readan Deat and two other Hiroshima-based independent bookshops, as well as Mitsubachi Bunko, a picture-book shop run by a storytelling group from a local elementary school.

Marseille’s culinary renaissance

It doesn’t take long to realise that everyone in Marseille seems to know each other. And, more importantly, they seem to like each other too. Stepping off the TGV in France’s second city, Monocle settles for an early lunch at La Relève on Rue d’Endoume, a few streets south of the old port.

Taking orders is co-owner Grégoire Hessmann, who is greeting customers with bises and handshakes. Chef Gregory Mandonato rests by the zinc counter for a natter with Ingrid Giribone, a designer friend who helped to update La Relève’s 1940s interiors when the duo took over in 2013. “You can come alone and still have fun,” says Mandonato of their all-day venue. “You will certainly end up talking to others.” And he is not wrong: perched at the bar are the owners’ fathers, lost in conversation with a couple of regulars.

While the best time to witness Marseille’s conviviality was once outside the summer months, now the opposite seems to be true. Like Parisians, residents used to close the bistros, boutiques and boulangeries for month-long holidays in August. Today, though, a new crop of entrepreneurs is keeping neighbourhood businesses open for locals and visitors seeking a taste of the city beyond the tourist traps. “August is our busiest month,” says Hessmann, gazing out onto La Relève’s street-side terrace. “We get a lot of tourists from other parts of France and abroad, plus the Marseillais are realising that they don’t need to go far to feel as though they’re en vacances.”

Hessmann and Mandonato have even opened four guest rooms above La Relève. And though the nearest seafront is a 15-minute stroll away, the design – courtesy of Giribone and her mother, Annick Lestrohan – brings a hint of the beach, with block-stripe lampshades, terry-cloth bedspreads and bright-hued walls.

Meanwhile, a new wave of food ventures has come ashore in the old fishermen’s quarter of Malmousque. Among the recent arrivals is café-and-deli Cécile, which opened its doors in March. It’s well past lunchtime when Monocle arrives but the queue, seeking shade under the sherbet-yellow-and-brown awnings, is still going strong. Fresh sandwiches and salad boxes are being collected through a pick-up window, while people in sunglasses and shorts settle on the benches outside. “I didn’t want to have real tables,” says Barthélémy Tassy, who came up with the idea while living in the US. When he returned to France, he called on his childhood friends, Paul Langlère, Thibault Hillmeyer and interior designer Marion Mailaender, to help make the project a reality. He loves the ease and flexibility of the alfresco set-up; even ice-cream cups from the new gelateria next door are welcome. “Friends can join in and children can run around freely,” says Tassy.

Marseille is also increasingly on the map for Parisian restaurants seeking new opportunities. The former warehouse at the foot of the Cathédrale de la Major is now home to offshoots of chef Julien Sebbag’s hit opening Forest and Latin American restaurant Andia; both have a steady footfall all year. Until recently, restaurants might have chosen Saint-Tropez for their branches in the south of France. Their arrival in Marseille speaks volumes about the city’s growing appeal.

Even the beautiful and beloved summer institution Tuba Club at Les Goudes on the outskirts of town has a new villa with three guest rooms offering a high-end alternative to its simpler cabanon accommodation. Chef Sylvain Roucayrol also serves private seafood feasts for up to 12 diners in the building’s ocean-facing living room.

If Marseille’s food scene is having its moment in the sun, much of it is thanks to the belief in honouring the bounty of the area’s fertile soil and sea. “People are very attached to this region,” says Guillaume Tetu, owner of Ferments Bakery & Provisions. “So our bread appeals to them.” Opposite his airy boulangerie, shoppers can stock up on local produce at Provisions, where wooden shelves are stacked with Marseille-made hot sauces, La Baleine à Cabosse chocolates and small-batch olive oils. Every month, producers Laurène and Fabien Dumont drive from Saint-Rémy-de-Provence with boxes of sun-ripened veg from their farm. It’s also then that the disco ball at Provisions comes in handy. “Sometimes we end up trying the wine we sell with our customers,” says co-owner Saskia Porretta. “We’re all friends.”

Marseille address book:

Stay and eat

Tuba Club: 2 Boulevard Alexandre Delabre, Marseille

La Relève: 41 Rue d’Endoume

Cécile: 116 Cor Président John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Shop

Ferments Bakery & Provisions: 95 Rue de Lodi

Farmers’ market: Notre Dame du Mont (Wednesday mornings)

Sunrise coast

Salento, at the very farthest point of Italy’s heel, has long been a relatively isolated landing point for people from across the Mediterranean: many of whom have left their mark on its rugged culture and cuisine. There’s also something about Salento that seems to capture visitors’ imagination and lend itself to dream of putting down more permanent roots.

The landscape is a dramatic mix of azure waters and craggy cliffs, and even the dwellings themselves seem spawned from fantasy – clustered towns of dazzling limewashed buildings or sun-bleached pastel hues to the blocky limestone masserie (farmhouses). That’s before visitors spot the ancient-looking trulli (stone huts with coned roofs) or pajare (stout pyramids) like Mayan temples. Then there are the many quiet beaches, restaurants and places to take a dip.

Our three-day journey takes in the best of the remote region, from the Adriatic Sea at the east, circling through the nethermost edge – “De Finibus Terrae” (“End of the Earth”), as the Romans called it – and to the Ionian sea at the west. Andiamo!

Day 1: Lecce and the Adriatic coast

Lecce, one of Puglia’s biggest cities, has a shade under 100,000 souls but enough bisque-coloured baroque stone edifices to more than justify its moniker of the “Florence of the South”. The city has recently become a favourite of tourists but locals still pace the old city centre with a gelato from Pasticceria Natale (served with roasted almonds) or a béchamel-and-mozzarella pastry from Bar Cotognata Leccese. Those in the know stop in Caffè Alvino for a cream-filled pasticciotto pastry and a caffè leccese: coffee served on ice with almond milk (a long-standing rather than a hipster touch here). At Trattoria Le Zie, the second-generation business that started in the owners’ living room in 1966 continues to turn out rustic Pugliese classics including ciceri e trie (chickpeas with fresh and fried pasta). Artisans still occupy some of the storefronts, including Nassi Lamps, where a team handcrafts contemporary and custom lampshades, and Ijò Design, where architect-turned-weaver Annalisa Surace makes fabrics on a 19th-century loom. Her next project? Staff uniforms at the area’s newest city-centre draw: Palazzo Luce.

“I wasn’t looking to buy a palazzo,” says Anna Maria Enselmi, Palazzo Luce’s founder. “Someone brought me to see this place and I fell in love.” From there, Enselmi dreamed up her own architecture project, transforming the 14th-century palazzo of an aristocratic family into a hotel and space to house her collection of design and art.

Alongside Nina Yashar, the doyenne behind Milan’s Nilufar gallery, Enselmi enlisted the help of the gallerists Lia Rumma and Rossella Colombari, and a network of Italian design talents including Storage Milano, Giuliano Andrea Dell’Uva Architetti and Martino Gamper to decorate the space. Gamper contributed various custom pieces and the hotel’s bar, finished with fragments of green and white linoleum. Guests will also spot furnishings from Carlo Mollino, Franco Albini, Luigi Caccia Dominioni, Osvaldo Borsani and Ettore Sottsass alongside photos by Marina Abramovic and Vanessa Beecroft, in addition to a vast rug by Joseph Kosuth covering the music room.

Enselmi’s mania for all things Gio Ponti includes headboards, shelves, painted-yellow floor tiles, Superleggera chairs and pink and moss-green porcelain toilets, with matching bathroom fixtures. Enselmi eyes a lacquered wood table by Ponti with concern. “I hope that no one ever puts a hot cup on here,” she says. “But I think guests will be respectful of the specialness of the place.” Her worry is understandable: Palazzo Luce is not like other hotels and made for the wear and tear of strangers. It’s a temple to Enselmi’s passions that she entrusts, rather than rents, to visitors.

Enselmi, who is of Pugliese descent and lives in Milan, explains that it was her “philosophy to maintain as much as possible of what remained here”: fishbone cotto floors, hand-painted majolica tiles, carved wooden doors painted with dainty flowers and other remnants of its 700 years of life. “I wanted a place for contemporary art and design, but with a soul and a past — a place specific to Puglia that could never exist in New York or London,” she says. What better place to rest for the night?

Day 2: De Finibus Terrae — the eastern Adriatic coast

Leaving Palazzo Luce, we head along the rocky Adriatic shoreline for Salento’s sunrise coast. At Grotta della Poesia, half an hour southeast of the city, the waves have carved a perfect pool into the low cliffs of pale stone. A few kilometres further down, the long scythe of sand of Torre dell’Orso is flanked by a lighthouse at either edge and dense copses of umbrella pines at its back — a beautiful but crowded beach in high summer, when locals tell me that they opt for more secluded coves nearby. At the Torre Sant’Andrea, the faraglioni, or sea stacks whittled by the rough waters into curving towers of rock, are a humbling sight to behold — a graceful and wave-racked ode to the elements.

Almost at the very tip of Salento in Gagliano del Capo, the hotel Palazzo Daniele sits so far down the Adriatic coast that when Monocle steps out of the car, the phone signal says we’re in Greece. In the sleepy town with arcaded houses worthy of a De Chirico painting, a church procession passes, the priest carrying a purple-wrapped cross. The door to Palazzo Daniele swings open to reveal a double courtyard of high arches, leading to a raised orangery.

Operated by Gabriele Salini’s GS Collection, Palazzo Daniele is owned by Francesco Petrucci, whose family built the structure in 1861. The palazzo is all frescoes overhead and mosaics underfoot. Antiques and contemporary design are dotted around the otherwise spartan space planned by Palomba Serafini Associati, which kept original details intact for the conversion into a serene 11-room hotel. The duo saw potential in the old architecture for a historical yet contemporary getaway distinct from more anaesthetised luxury travel. “Occasionally someone complains that the bathroom door squeaks,” says Roberto Rizzo, the house manager and one-man welcoming committee at Palazzo Daniele. “Then we know this place is not for them. Today, true luxury is about preserving the patina of time.”

The open kitchen encourages guests to saunter in, say hello and even make requests, homestyle. As Monocle passes, the cook offers a slice of just-baked bread before suggesting a bowl of her mussels and some sparkling natural wine. “Industry and wealth are still concentrated in the north of Italy,” says Rizzo, popping the cork. “But to live well you have to come to the south.”

Just beyond Palazzo Daniele, a pathway fringed by towering precipices leads to the coast and to Ponte Ciolo, a narrow but dramatic rocky beach in between cliffs giving onto twinkling topaz-coloured water. Part of a network of newly linked hiking trails called the Cammino del Salento, stairs lead to a myrtle-lined path above a beach that follows the entire southeast coast to Otranto, past remnants of ancient dry-rock farm walls on one side, with the Adriatic stretching out on the other.

The nearby town centre and marina of postcard-pretty Tricase has become the liveliest area along this part of the coast. Caffè d’Oltremare, a recently opened bar in a small pink castle built in 1890, serves drinks to sunset-hunters on a terrace high above the port. Down the street, Taverna del Porto has become one of Salento’s best restaurants, designed like an old-school fishmonger and serving superbly rendered seafood dishes and natural wine. In Tricase’s centre, where sulphur-coloured streetlights illuminate timeworn Carparo stone palazzos and baroque churches, cocktail bar Farmacia Balboa was the first to set the tone for the energetic new era here when it opened in 2014 on the main piazza. Down the street, the menu at the intimate Bar Lemí – Cozze e Gin includes dry-aged cod and mackerel burgers and fried anchovies, before it’s time to return to Palazzo Daniele for a well-earned rest.

Day 3: Valle d’Itria and Ionian coast

Driving back up the length of Salento, towards the stark, white hilltop city of Ostuni, we hit Masseria Moroseta, a small hotel revered by design- minded travellers and one of the pioneers of Salento’s contemporary popularity. “What we’ve done is simply repropose the way things were always done here in the past,” says owner Carlo Lanzini, who hails from Brescia in the north of Italy but was beguiled by Salento’s traditional farmsteads. There’s a Shaker-like purity to Moroseta’s furnishings, with wooden spindle chairs and long wooden-plank tables where guests dine together, plus sparing touches such as rough-sided antique marble sinks and timeworn farm doors from flea markets. There’s an austerity that could be mistaken for Scandi minimalism but has Puglian simplicity at its roots.

The structure seems to have existed for centuries but was constructed from scratch. It was the first project designed by British architect Andrew Trotter, a friend of Lanzini’s from his time living in London. “Builders told us that the project wouldn’t work,” says Lanzini with a grin. “I was scared. We had the vision but no practical experience yet.” The city board didn’t approve the outsiders’ plans for a full two years but the structure of Moroseta was finally completed in 2016.

In the years since, the food has become as important as the design. Giorgia Eugenia Goggi, a chef from Milan who came for a stay and never left, serves Pugliese dishes that are heavy on vegetables and local produce. The communal tables serve no more than 20 guests from the hotel and beyond, so the four-night-a-week affair feels more like an easygoing gathering than a formal dining room. “This isn’t a restaurant in a traditional sense,” she says. “I have more freedom and more room to experiment.”

Heading out past the Valle d’Itria’s endless trulli among the olive groves, we visit the town of Grottaglie 30km away, where Greeks established a ceramic-making colony, whose craft continues to this day. The shop of Nicola Fasano makes clay plates for Moroseta with the splashed enamel dots that have characterised the region’s wares for centuries. “Jackson Pollock copied us!” a family member tells me with conviction that seems serious. “We’ve been contemporary forever.”

A short drive west from Grottaglie is the Ionian coast – because the sea is never far away in Salento – the waters of which seem clearer and brighter than the Adriatic. Punta Prosciutto, a beach that’s as delightful as its name, is dotted with grassy dunes and parchment-coloured sand. The sunset turns the horizon an incandescent pink, as gaps in the clouds above radiate a rosy crown of the sun in the sky. Before the two-hour drive back to Bari, I remember a local’s advice at the beginning of my trip: “To live serenely is to live better.” Now how about that house in Salento?

How a school in deepest Alabama is using architecture and civic smarts to revive rural America

To reach the tiny town of Newbern, Alabama, you take a long drive south from Birmingham, past catfish ponds and scores of bright white churches, until you come to the South’s strangest-looking fire station. This big- shouldered structure, all steel webbing and soaring timber trusses, sticks out among the trees and trailers on Highway 61. John Dodson, volunteer fire chief and a man of few words, runs his hand admiringly over the polycarbonate exterior and cedar slats that catch the heat of the low sun in winter and help to prevent the fire engines’ water tanks from freezing. “We used to park the trucks outside the house of a guy who lived across the street,” he tells Monocle. “So this is certainly better.”

The fire station was Newbern’s first public building in 110 years when it opened in 2004. It is the work of Rural Studio, an off-campus programme run by Alabama’s Auburn University, in which third- and fifth-year architecture students learn how to design and, crucially, build from the ground up. In 1993 two Auburn professors came to this corner of the state, called Hale County, when Newbern was little more than a few dusty streets and churches, and many people were living in precarious old houses. The architects’ proposition was simple: let our students live here and learn by doing, and we will help to build your civic infrastructure. In 30 years students have delivered more than 200 projects across western Alabama, from Scouts’ huts to skate parks, in towns such as Moundville and Footwash. They have also built many homes, helping residents to swap leaky trailers for a more contemporary pad.

Working in teams of four, students raise funds, source materials and engage with the community just as one would with a commercial client, though the students’ services come for free. When the time comes to realise their designs, they rig up the electrics, install the plumbing and oversee the pouring of foundations. “No one comes here with construction experience,” says student Adam Davis, who is hard at work on “Patriece’s Home” and showing off his tool belt.

Rural Studio accepts about 50 students a year and is highly selective. Their final projects are assessed on whether their structures can stand the test of time, surviving the notorious tornadoes of “Dixie Alley” and the extremes of summer and winter here. “We still use computerised drawings but taking the time to do it by hand is so important,” says student Meagan Mitchell, who is drawing the dormer of a house in the Red Barn, a former shop building that serves as a communal studio. The walls are lined with watercolour studies of the local architectural vernacular, which students paint in the field as research. “If you don’t have the confidence to draw it by hand, how can you expect to build it?” asks Mitchell.

Students come from all over the US and soon acclimatise to the region’s subtropical heat and slower pace. It might sound idyllic but Newbern is also at the sharp end of rural life. As in many small, isolated communities in the American South – as well as Italy, Spain and elsewhere – old families are dying out or departing for cities in search of work and opportunity. For generations, there was little civic infrastructure to keep people rooted and local leaders now seek out the services of Rural Studio to arrest their town’s decline.

Over a period of 30 years, waves of students have created the vast Lions Park in nearby Greensboro, turned a defunct bank building into Newbern Library, which became the first place in town where high-speed internet was available to the public, and built Newbern’s town hall out of cypress logs. Before that, citizens had nowhere to vote and the mayor kept everyone’s records in his basement. (Newbern still has some way to go when it comes to making all residents feel that they have a say in how the place is run; there’s an ongoing row, for instance, about exactly who is the legitimate mayor.)

“Rural Studio has made a real difference to so many families around here,” says Barbara Williams, the town’s librarian, who uses her elegant reading room to host children’s book festivals and signings by authors from across the state. She grew up in Hale County at a time of racial segregation. The town sits in a region of the South that was historically known as the Black Belt, named in part for its fertile soil but also because it was once an epicentre of US slave labour.

Despite its history and today’s economic travails, it’s a resilient, tight-knit community. “I tell our students, ‘You’re not here to save anybody,’” says Emily McGlohn, an associate professor at Rural Studio, who came as a student and decided to stay. “These folks don’t need us. The main thing that we’re doing is learning architecture and how to build buildings – and, as a by-product, someone gets a house.” 

The days start early at Morisette House, an old mansion gifted to the studio by a local family in 1996. By 06.00, students are on their knees, weeding the campus farm, where they grow food for their lunches in and around a pyramidal greenhouse. With just a few weeks to go until the annual pig roast that marks the end of the academic year, fifth-year students Naomi Tony-Alabi and Jake Buell are affixing drywall to a staircase that they have mocked up for the project that they’ll submit to their professors. Requested by a resident with a sliver of family land to build on, it’s a compact home that has two storeys and would sit comfortably in a parking space for two cars – and could be reconfigured for leftover land in inner-city developments. If it passes muster, they’ll stay on into the summer to build it.

“To maximise the space, we built upwards,” says Tony-Alabi, who is originally from Johannesburg. “We want people to live in the way that you would in any other home and use their own furniture.” Buell takes a step back, assessing their creation. “Having built these stairs, we would draw them very differently now,” he says.

The morning sun beats down on prototypes scattered all over the campus’s muddy lawns. At one end of the garden is a row of dormitories, erected by past students, including a sturdy one made from the waxed cardboard used to transport catfish. Currently in development is a ventilation-research project that takes design cues from how termite mounds regulate heat, with timber walls that create natural chimneys. At most other colleges, these architectural and structural ideas would probably never make it off the drawing board.

One such structure is a house built by Rural Studio’s late co-founder Samuel Mockbee, a charismatic, Mississippi-born architect who arrived in Hale County in 1993 with a vision to train what he called “citizen architects”. “He was really interested in getting architects out of the ivory tower,” says Mockbee’s successor, programme director Andrew Freear, a Brit who delivers acerbic but astute architectural critiques to his charges and swears prodigiously. “Certainly, it’s giving the students a hands-on education but it’s also about engaging with ordinary, everyday folks.”

Members of the faculty talk about “predictive, not prescriptive” design, which means that domestic layouts include obvious cues for where they could be expanded, often using eaves and overhangs to lead the way, in case the house’s owners want to make additions to their home in future as families grow or elderly relatives move in.

The defining feature of several new Rural Studio homes is a large, overarching roof, raised on columns, inspired by agricultural sheds called “pole barns” that are found all over the surrounding countryside. Usually, the actual house is built underneath it as a free-standing building that is not physically attached to the roof. “It’s a guiding infrastructure that gives us shelter from the elements as we build,” Freear says.

The home of Reverend Reginald Walker, for instance, has a large, angular roof with a series of small buildings beneath it on a concrete foundation, comprising bedrooms, a kitchen and a storage shed, which together create a courtyard shielded from the wind and rain. Walker, a former military man and pastor, moved here in 2021 and has already plotted out additional space for his extended family. “For now, though, it’s just me and my dogs out here,” he says.

A short drive away is the new home of Margie Myers, which is striking while still looking somewhat like a house on a Monopoly board. It has two front doors with an easily reconfigurable layout inside that offers the option of turning the downstairs area into two separate living spaces. It’s a home made to be passed down the generations. Myers sits in a rocker on her vast porch – another feature of Rural Studio’s design language and a major part of life in the South, where large families gather to sit in the afternoon sun and sip sweet tea. “I’ve lived in Hale all my life,” says Myers, who moved out of her trailer 18 months ago and has made the place her own, decorating it with family portraits and framed Bible passages. “I ain’t intending to leave.”

Rural communities might seem far removed from the problems facing major US cities but, despite all of the space, many also face housing shortages. As its portfolio of houses has grown and matured, Rural Studio has tried to create a series of smart, cost-effective model homes that can be built elsewhere and are replicable at scale. In 2019 this programme, the Front Porch Initiative, caught the eye of mortgage lender Fannie Mae, which is now supporting the development of Rural Studio-designed homes in parts of the rural South, where people often have the desire to put down roots but lack access to affordable housing.

Closer to home, in Hale County, the current intake of students is working on a rapid rehousing project for a homeless charity in Uniontown and has built sheltered accommodation in Greensboro for an organisation called Project Horseshoe Farm, which works with vulnerable people in the community.

Rural Studio’s work hasn’t entirely reversed the outflow of people from many of the smaller towns here but the sense of community that now exists in places that it has designed is impressive. Little leaguers pile out of Lions Park at the end of their baseball game; there’s a warm glow in the windows of Newbern Library as an author reads aloud from her latest novel. In Greensboro, Main Street now has its closest thing to a pub, called The Stable, which started life as a Rural Studio refit of an old building and holds a popular quiz every week. (A group of Presbyterians always wins, apparently.)

Yet the most radical thing to emerge from the studio is the encounters that it has brought about between people from seemingly opposite sides of American life. Take one client, Frankie Fikes, who emerges from his trailer with a pistol holstered on one hip and his mobile phone on the other. He and his wife, Rosie, have become quite attached to the Rural Studio students working on their new house. Fikes has built them a picnic table, on which he serves them barbecue at the end of a long week.

“Back in the day, they called it ‘mother wit’, which means that anything I can imagine, I can build,” says Fikes. That’s the kind of rural nous that students hope to pick up in their time in the country. But how does the couple feel about students hammering away in their garden for months on end? “We’ll miss them when they’re gone, so they can take their time,” says Rosie. “I’ve got time.” 

Front and centre

At many buildings on dense city blocks, one façade replete with ornate detailing is all that’s on show. Other walls tend to be less adorned or packed tightly against neighbouring structures.

This is not the case at Barcelona’s La Carbonería building, which has four dramatically embellished façades with arching windows and striking balustrades. Its construction took place in 1864 while plans for the city were still being drawn up and, with its developer unsure which wall would face the road, all were made attractive. When the streets were eventually completed, one of these impressive fronts was boxed in by other buildings and hidden from view for more than 150 years. But a recent intervention by Ángel Borrego Cubero, of Spanish firm Office for Strategic Spaces, has revealed it. The architect carved out an internal courtyard in front of the hidden façade, allowing those inside the building to view it when crossing the new yard.

“We try to listen to the stories we find,” says Borrego Cubero of the redevelopment project, which also included a renovation of the entire building. “We wanted to return a view of this battleground façade.” The result is a revitalised structure that pays tribute to the building’s heritage.

Nic Monisse on
Learned friends

Creative industries often lack the structure that corporate workplaces bring, with many emerging practitioners striking out on their own to ensure creative control. This might help to produce outstanding work, free from constraint but one downside is that many creatives work in isolation, without the guiding hand of a master or mentor.

It’s a situation that Rolex has been trying to remedy through its Mentor and Protégé Arts Initiative – partnering an established creative with an emerging one – which celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. Over the course of seven days at the inaugural Rolex Arts Festival in Athens, the Swiss watchmaker gathered about 100 mentors and protégés who have participated in the programme to celebrate and reflect on the process.

The event featured several exhibitions, including a group show by five architecture protégés – Sahel Alhiyari, Gloria Cabral, Mariam Issoufou Kamara, Yang Zhao and Simon Kretz – which opened with a talk moderated by David Chipperfield, Kretz’s mentor. Chipperfield was quick to point out the obvious benefits of the scheme for his participating protégé, saying that his relationship with Kretz enabled him to transfer his own experiences, good and bad. But the Pritzker Prize-winner was also keen to stress the importance of the relationship to an established architect such as himself. “The discussions that one has with their protégé are interesting because they’re asking you things that you know but, at the same time, things that destabilise and challenge you, which gives you strength,” he said.

Chipperfield’s comments should be noted by experienced creatives everywhere. Lending time to emerging talents will not only nurture the next generation but further their own practice too.

Eye candy

Hilu means “sweet” in Arabic – a fitting name for the rounded timber stools that reminded designer Faezah Shaharuddin of the circle-shaped lollies she enjoyed as a child. “I like working with wood because it has this inherent nostalgia and warmth,” Shaharuddin says of the designs for her furniture brand, Studio Kallang. “I play around with a piece until it feels fresh instead of traditional.”

Founded in Singapore in 2021 and now run from the US, Studio Kallang’s teak and sungkai wood pieces are handcrafted by carpenters in Indonesia, who have become adept at translating the designer’s playful concepts into solid forms. The Hilu Stool is a case in point: simple and whimsical, its irreverent design is balanced with durability and craftsmanship. “It will last for decades,” says Shaharuddin.

Like all of Studio Kallang’s furniture, the stool is customisable. Buyers can select different-coloured timber for its alternating discs. “It’s exciting to see a piece come to life in a way that I hadn’t thought of,” says Shaharuddin. “It feels like a collaborative effort between me and the client.”
studiokallang.com

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Religious conversion

The Bullingerkirche is a historic Protestant church in Zürich’s Hard district. For the next few years, with city hall undergoing refurbishment, it will be the temporary seat of the cantonal and municipal parliament. To ensure that the century-old church was fit for its new political purpose, architecture studio Ernst Niklaus Fausch Partner AG was tapped to retrofit it. And the result is a bold reimagining of the space.

“The most important thing was to change the atmosphere,” says Bertram Ernst, one of the project’s architects. “A church is built to spotlight one person who talks to an audience but we needed the space to encourage dialogue.” To this end, the architects installed seating in a horseshoe formation and dismantled the pulpit: citizens now use the church’s pre-existing balcony to view proceedings. Three concentric rings that house lights and multiple loudspeakers have been mounted to the ceiling to provide ideal lighting and sound for those present (and for TV broadcasts). Threaded throughout the structure are subtle fabric panels that soften the church’s acoustics, creating a warm and welcoming space for politicians and the public alike.

The overhauled space, which hosted its first council session in February, is already proving to be a hit with lawmakers. “A few of the members of parliament have told me that they don’t want to go back to the historic town hall,” says Ernst. If this is the case, they might have to fight it out with the building’s usual occupants, who have hinted at their interest in retaining the new setup for the church’s governing body.

Home comforts

“Not so long ago, a lot of the furniture that people had in their homes was made locally,” says Paul de Zwart, founder of British furniture and homeware brand Another Country. “There’s beauty, simplicity and honesty in that way of making and we want to recreate it in our designs.” Since it was established in 2010, the firm has close ties to Dorset, where it develops prototypes and works on bespoke commissions, so its decision to open its first showroom outside London in Semley, a nearby village, seems like a natural move. “It made sense for us to come home as a brand,” says De Zwart. “It’s a stone’s throw from where the first pieces were made.”

Located in a refurbished former dairy farm at rural- office complex Chaldicott Barns, the new shop is spread across three rooms, dedicated to the living room, kitchen and dining room, and bedroom respectively. Though the wares on show are certainly impressive (furniture by award- winningdesigner David Irwin and cutlery by David Mellor are among the standouts), it’s the scale of the building that is most significant for those making a purchase – as well as those looking to design their own retail space. The cosy rooms are reflective of the area’s farm-like architectural vernacular and scale.

“The barn gives us the chance to tell the story of our brand from a different angle and with a different eye than the one we tell in London,” says De Zwart. The result? A shop that shares the brand’s story and helps prospective buyers understand how the furniture might sit in their own homes and cottages.

IMAGES: Hannes Henz, Rolex, Simona Rota, Studio Kallang, Sam Walton

The Entrepreneurs

Tom Edwards on…
Business making a difference

When it comes to reshaping cities and creating community, a smart redeployment of social capital can be a more potent force than a chequebook. Lauren Scott-Harris is the founder of Earnt, an initiative that unites great brands with causes, incentivising people to do good deeds in return for access to in-demand products, services and experiences.

“When I had my son, I questioned the world in which he was going to grow up, with climate anxiety and consumption anxiety,” says Scott-Harris. “The premise of Earnt is to consume with more intention. We ask artists and musicians what bothers them. They might say, ‘If you really like me, if you really want to come to my concert or my restaurant, this is what’s important to me. I’d love you to go and volunteer and to do this for me.’ If they get 30,000 people to do it, they don’t have followers, they have an army.”

Though this is certainly a model that works for an engaged public, are there entrepreneurial fixes that can benefit those who are often omitted from the discourse altogether? Alex Head (pictured, on left) is CEO of Social Pantry, a catering and events company that offers former offenders a chance to escape the vicious cycle of recidivism via a new path in hospitality. For Head, the solution is about opportunity. “If the judicial system says that these guys should be back in society, why wouldn’t we offer them a job?” says Head. “Many have transferable skills. They’re ambitious and clever. Lots of them have gone from care home to care home, prison to prison, but haven’t had much opportunity. We say, ‘There’s a paid job here if you want it.’ We support in several ways, from buying them a bus pass to doing that first commute. It changes their chances.”

To hear more from business owners who are determined to do good, listen to Monocle Radio’s weekly programme ‘The Entrepreneurs’. Subscribe to the podcast for more.

Kelp at hand

During his 30-year naval career, Michael Williamson spent plenty of time at sea but paid little attention to the topic of seaweed. Today it’s front of mind for the former commander of Canada’s West Coast Naval Base. He is now CEO of Cascadia Seaweed, the largest kelp grower in Canada. The firm has a suite of seaweed-derived agricultural products hitting market this year.

When Williamson retired from the armed forces, he started frequenting a monthly breakfast business meet-up. Over coffee in 2018, geologist William Collins, who ran a successful train-electronics company, extolled the economic and environmental virtues of seaweed farming. Williamson soon saw the potential for seaweed to join the ranks of salmon and shellfish as valuable components of British Columbia’s ca$1.4bn (€960m) aquaculture industry. There is broad scientific consensus that cultivating seaweed offers valuable environmental benefits, including sucking carbon out of the atmosphere and providing habitats for aquatic life.

Along with oceanographer Tony Ethier, the pair toured a seaweed farm in 2019 at the Bamfield Marine Sciences Center, a world-class research facility on the remote west coast of Vancouver Island. Wild kelp forests are abundant in the cold waters of the North Pacific but replicating the conditions in which they grow naturally has taken years of study. Convinced that they could farm seaweed at scale, the trio met a consortium of Canadian indigenous groups who already held aquaculture licences. Six months later, Cascadia Seaweed had two farms in the wild seeded with baby kelp. Today the firm works with seven First Nations groups across coastal British Columbia.

After experimenting with seaweed-flavoured snacks and spices, Cascadia Seaweed is embarking this year on a new future in agriculture. The company pulled some 250 tonnes (227,000kg) of seaweed out of the water during this spring’s harvest, which will be processed by autumn into a liquid extract for plant food, a bio-stimulant for commercial agriculture crops and a food supplement for cattle that reduces methane emissions. Williamson believes that supporting global food production with seaweed products is a net positive for the planet. “Whatever you make with seaweed, it’s better than making it with harsh chemicals,” he says.

Along British Columbia’s vast coastline, there is plenty of room for more seaweed farms. Williamson’s team charted the course for commercial seaweed aquaculture in the province but are willing to share in its abundance. “We’ve done the hard work of setting the sector up,” he says. “But the demand and variety of products is such that it would be co-operation not competition.”