In February 2026, I visited Seville, Córdoba, Ronda, Málaga, and Granada, and found myself exploring the infrastructure most people ignore: aboveground and underground waste containers, collection trucks, street sweepers, bus lanes & small buses, bike lanes & bike storage lockers, rail stations, and bus stations.
Andalusia is full of spectacular historic places, but what also stood out to me was how much everyday urban life is negotiated in public space. Waste containerization, street cleaning, transit, cycling, deliveries, outdoor dining, trees, street furniture, and more all compete for limited curb and sidewalk space. In the Spanish cities I visited, that tradeoff was often visible, intentional, and surprisingly interesting.
This was not a trip about perfect infrastructure. It was more useful than that. I saw systems that worked well, systems that required careful timing, and small operational details that revealed how much daily labor goes into keeping a city functional.
Containerization
One of the biggest differences from New York was how visibly the curb and sidewalk are used for waste separation. Across the cities I visited, I saw containers and recycling hubs for glass, paper and cardboard, organics, clothing, used cooking oil, batteries, and many other specialized waste streams. In Seville, the Ecopunto took this even further: a compact neighborhood recycling point for household items that do not belong in ordinary trash or basic recycling.
Even outside the major cities, containers were often placed in visible, dedicated spaces, with the street or roadside carved out to make room for them. The system was not hidden; it was treated as part of the public realm.
The key lesson was not just that the containers existed. It was that the city had made room for them. Some containers were on sidewalks, some were placed at the curb, and some occupied space that otherwise might have been used for parking.
That is the same basic tradeoff New York City is now beginning to make with containerization. But in Spain, the curbside system felt broader: not just trash, but many separated material streams. That distinction matters. Containerization should not only be about hiding black bags. At its best, it can make waste separation easier, more visible, and more routine.
Some of the most interesting systems were underground containers. From the street, they can look like small metal hatches or modest aboveground openings, but the storage volume is below the sidewalk or street.
They are elegant from a pedestrian perspective because they reduce the visual bulk of surface containers. But they are not magic. They still need trucks, workers, access, regular cleaning around them, and clear communication with residents.
A key operational issue is that the container or platform needs to be raised and accessed during collection. That means vehicles cannot be parked on top of or immediately blocking the container access zone when collection happens. The underground system saves surface space most of the day, but during servicing it temporarily turns that space into an active work zone.
There is also a user-side tradeoff. If a container has been emptied, locked, or temporarily taken out of service during collection, residents need to know when it will be available again. They may also need to walk a little farther to another container or plan around collection times.
And like aboveground containers, underground collection points still need cleaning around the openings. Overflow, spills, loose bags, and litter do not disappear just because the storage chamber is below ground. Workers still have to maintain the area manually. That is not necessarily a flaw, but it shows that underground containerization is a balancing act between cleaner streets, efficient collection, curb access, resident convenience, and daily maintenance.
For New York, the lesson is probably not to copy Spain’s underground containers directly. Underground systems are elegant, but they would be difficult to scale in New York because of cost, dense underground infrastructure, and the likely expense of significant utility relocation. The more practical takeaway is that even aboveground containerization requires a full operating system around it: dedicated curb space, reliable collection windows, truck access, clear rules, ongoing cleaning, and enforcement.
That does not mean underground systems have no place in New York. They may make more sense in specific parks, plazas, campuses, or public spaces where major capital work is already happening and excavation is part of the project anyway. Roosevelt Island’s pneumatic trash system is a reminder that more ambitious waste infrastructure can work when it is planned at a district scale, but it is a major investment, not something that can simply be dropped into ordinary city streets.
The other thing that stood out was how much cleaning still depends on people. I saw small electric brooms and compact sweepers working through tight streets, but I also saw plenty of manual sweeping and workers cleaning around containers.
That was one of the most important takeaways. Containers can reduce loose bags and improve collection, but they do not eliminate maintenance. People still have to sweep around them, clean spills, pick up overflow, and keep the sidewalk usable.
I also paid attention to collection vehicles. In some places I saw side-loading trucks, where containers are lifted from the side of the vehicle. Elsewhere, especially in tighter or older street environments, rear-loading and more manual systems still made sense.
This is where street geometry really matters. A wide street can handle larger containers, side-loading trucks, bike lanes, bus lanes, and curbside functions. A narrow historic street may need small vehicles, manual collection, or different container placement.
In one case, I saw how a truck or parked vehicle could block access to a container. That kind of issue can happen anywhere: if the collection vehicle cannot reach the container, pickup can be delayed or missed. Containerization only works if the curb is treated as operating space, not leftover space.
Across the cities I visited, I also noticed smaller street details that were interesting from a New York perspective. Bike counters appeared as a reminder that cycling can be treated as a measurable part of the street, not just a secondary use. Bike storage lockers near stations made the same point in a more practical way: if cities want people to combine cycling with trains, buses, and walking, secure bike parking has to be part of the transportation system. Bike lanes were also plentiful, and what stood out was how often they were worked into streets alongside bus lanes, waste containers, loading, and pedestrian space without feeling chaotic. Most of the time, these functions seemed planned together rather than squeezed in after the fact.
Public toilets were another small but important piece of everyday infrastructure. They are easy to overlook, but they make public space more usable, especially for tourists, older adults, families with children, delivery workers, transit riders, and anyone spending a long time walking through the city. Like waste containers or bike lockers, public toilets require space, cleaning, maintenance, and clear signage, but they are part of what makes streets and plazas function as real public places rather than just places to pass through.
Curbside gas stations were another striking example. They are not necessarily a model to copy, but they show how limited street space can be allocated in different ways. Instead of dedicating an entire parcel to a gas station, with vehicles crossing the sidewalk through curb cuts, the fueling function can be built directly into the curbside environment.
I also noticed electric vehicle charging built into the street environment. Like waste containers, bike storage lockers, loading areas, and bus stops, EV charging is another reminder that the curb is becoming more than a place to store private cars. The interesting question is not just where chargers go, but how they fit with everything else competing for space.
Seville
Seville was one of the best cities for seeing modern infrastructure layered into a historic city.
Santa Justa Station is Seville’s main high-speed rail station. I especially liked the way passengers move down from the concourse to the tracks, including the ramps and escalators leading to the platforms. It reminded me a little of Grand Central Terminal: a station designed around a step-free transition from the street to the concourses and platforms.
The Seville bus station was also surprisingly interesting. It had a dedicated bike storage area, which made the station feel more connected to everyday local mobility, not just intercity bus travel. I also liked seeing the old trams on display alongside Seville’s modern light rail tram system.
Seville’s tram was another highlight. The MetroCentro tram runs through the historic center, where overhead wires were removed from parts of the line and replaced with onboard energy storage batteries. That makes a big visual difference in a historic area where overhead wires would be especially intrusive.
Seville also had one of my favorite examples of adaptive reuse: the old Plaza de Armas railway station, now reused as a shopping center. The Seville Metro was impressive too, especially the clean station design, platform screen doors, and bike storage lockers next to some stations. At San Juan Bajo, the system also connects to the Ascensor de San Juan de Aznalfarache, an inclined elevator that climbs the hillside toward the Monumento neighborhood. You press the button and the cabin comes down like a small transit vehicle, making a steep grade change feel like part of the metro-access system rather than a barrier.
I also noticed raised but retractable fire hydrants. It was a small detail, but it fit the larger theme: even emergency infrastructure can be designed to be available when needed without permanently taking up much sidewalk or curb space.
The Alamillo Bridge was a different kind of infrastructure highlight. Designed by Santiago Calatrava and built as part of Seville’s Expo ’92 infrastructure, it is much more monumental than the everyday curbside systems I was mostly exploring, but it still fit the broader theme of modern infrastructure layered into the city.
Córdoba
Córdoba also had some of the best examples of historical layering inside everyday transportation infrastructure. The rail and bus stations sit next to each other across the street. The bus station itself integrates archaeological remains found during construction. In the parking area, visible remains include what the station identifies as a Mozarabic house, the meeting point of two aqueducts, and a mosque built with Roman stones. Córdoba had another striking example near the river at the La Ribera underground car park, where Roman remains are integrated into the parking structure itself.
I loved these examples because they made transportation and parking infrastructure feel connected to the city’s long history, not separate from it. These were not just modern mobility spaces; they were also places where older layers of Córdoba remained visible.
I also noticed illuminated tactile strips at some bus stops and crosswalks. It was a small accessibility detail, but it stood out because it made the pedestrian environment feel intentionally designed. I did wonder how hard they are to maintain, especially with weather, street cleaning, utility work, and normal wear. Like a lot of good public-realm infrastructure, the detail only works if the city can keep it visible, functional, and in good repair.
Outdoor dining showed up too, including sidewalk canopies and seating areas fitted around pedestrians, trees, storefronts, and building entrances. It was a small detail, but it fit the broader theme of public space being shared among many everyday uses.
Málaga
Málaga was especially useful for seeing how waste infrastructure works on wider streets. I saw side-loading trucks, underground collection points, and streets where containers, bike lanes, bus lanes, sidewalks, and traffic lanes all had to fit together.
I also liked the smaller operational details, including mail bikes, an industrial-area pocket park, and compact fire trucks. The small fire trucks were a reminder that emergency vehicles also have to fit the street network, especially in older or tighter urban areas. It made me wonder whether New York could safely use more right-sized emergency and service vehicles in dense pedestrian areas, where smaller trucks might reduce conflicts with narrow streets, plazas, bike lanes, outdoor dining, and crowded curbs.
Málaga’s bus station also had a small transport museum, which was a fun surprise. The bus station sits near the main train station and the light rail metro.
Granada
Granada was one of the best examples of matching transit to street form. In the center of the city, some streets felt almost like bus boulevards, with significant space dedicated to public transit rather than private vehicles.
But in the historic hillside neighborhoods, the system changed scale. Small buses serve areas like the Albaicín and Sacromonte, where the streets are narrow, steep, historic, and often one-way. I especially enjoyed taking buses toward the cave-home areas on the other side of the Alhambra. In Sacromonte, many homes and cultural spaces are built into the hillside itself, with whitewashed cave entrances, narrow streets, terraces, and views back toward the palace. Getting there by bus also made the street network more legible: a place that looks close on a map may require a loop, a specific stop, or a different route in the opposite direction.
And then there was Alcázar Genil station on the Granada Metro. The station incorporates archaeological remains of the Albercón, a historic water structure associated with the 13th-century Alcázar Genil. It was one of the best examples I saw of modern transit infrastructure built around, rather than over, an older layer of the city.
That station captured one of the themes of the whole trip: modern infrastructure does not erase the old city. Sometimes it reveals it.
Bonus: Ronda and Setenil de las Bodegas
I also visited Ronda and nearby Setenil de las Bodegas, which deserve their own mention even though they were not the main focus of this post. Ronda’s Puente Nuevo was spectacular, spanning the deep gorge that divides the town. Setenil de las Bodegas was just as memorable in a different way, with streets and buildings tucked directly under massive rock overhangs. Both places were amazing to walk through, and they were another reminder that some of the best urban experiences come from places where landscape, buildings, streets, and movement are inseparable.
What New York can learn
The biggest lesson from Spain is not that New York should copy every Spanish container, tram, truck, or bus. The lesson is simpler: cities have to make room for the services they expect to function.
New York is finally beginning to reclaim curb space for sanitation. That is a major shift. But Spain shows a broader version of the idea, especially on pedestrianized or pedestrian-priority streets: public space can support separated waste streams, cleaning operations, bike parking, transit access, deliveries, public toilets, outdoor dining, and other everyday services.
The Spanish streets I photographed were not perfect. No city is. But they showed a more visible negotiation with the basics of urban life. Waste has to go somewhere. Workers need room to clean. Vehicles need to fit the streets. Historic places still need modern services. And public space has to be allocated to public functions, not just stored cars.
Sometimes the most revealing travel photos are not the postcard views. What would New York look like if we treated small streets, wide streets, and boulevards as working public spaces where waste, deliveries, buses, bikes, trees, seating, outdoor dining, and everyday services are planned together instead of squeezed in later? New York is already making a lot of progress in that direction. Watch this space:
Disclaimer: All content on this site reflects personal views and experiences at the time it was created and may evolve over time. Nothing on this site should be interpreted as representing the views, policies, or positions of any current or former employer or affiliated organization.
All photos taken by author.
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