Author: Maithaa Al Saiqal

“How’s university going?” is always my grandma’s first question, “Good Yado, finals are coming up, and I’m working on a couple of assignments for my design class.” Naturally, as an art fanatic, she had to know everything about this class, and I spent the next 10 minutes trying to explain the main concepts of Wayfinding to her. This conversation sparked my curiosity about the historical and cultural significance of wayfinding, leading me to ask if many Wayfinding practices were different back in the day for her generation. She then shared with me about her ancestors and the authentic Bedouin navigation experience. Here is what I took away from her.

Arab nomadic tribes, historically known as Bedouins, traversed the vast deserts of the Middle East for centuries, relying on intricate systems of navigation to survive in some of the world’s harshest environments. Wayfinding in my culture goes beyond mere navigation—it’s a deeply ingrained aspect of identity, tradition, and survival. The ability to read the stars, wind patterns, and natural formations wasn’t just a skill; it was a matter of life and death, a testament to the resilience and adaptability of these tribes. 

Wayfinding in Arab nomadic tribes blended ancient knowledge, experience, and intuition. One of the most fundamental techniques was celestial navigation, using the sun, moon, and stars to determine direction and time (this ties in with cordial navigation). My ancestors profoundly understood celestial bodies, enabling them to navigate accurately even without visible landmarks or cues, which is today one of the most common Wayfinding principles. 

In addition to celestial navigation, nomads relied on natural indicators such as wind patterns, sand dunes, and rock formations to guide their journeys. They were acutely aware of subtle environmental cues, which allowed them to discern hidden water sources, grazing grounds, and safe passage through treacherous terrain.

The doors

When asked if any more recent Wayfinding traditional principles were still present today, I was met with,

“Yes, our front door is the most evident example, one of many of Al Ains’ uniquely designed house front gates.” 

In Emirati culture, privacy is revered, and this is beautifully reflected in the design of traditional folk houses and their doors. These houses, originally built in the 1970s for local families, were meticulously designed to provide a sense of security and seclusion for their inhabitants. The height of the external walls was elevated, and the position of the door was carefully chosen to enhance privacy. Modifications at this time included the replacement of the traditional wooden exterior gate with an ornate steel or metal door, a striking contrast that symbolized the transition from nomadic life, where privacy was ensured by the vastness of the desert, to settled communities. And naturally, that’s when people decided to take advantage of these ordinary doors and transform them into something both functional and aesthetic. 

“These doors were used to tell apart our neighbor’s houses from our own; notice how we always call your aunt Amna’s house bait bab il azraq (translating to the house with a blue door), and till this day, it’s a system still in use.”

That statement is true. Going back to Al Ain every week, the first sign that we had reached was all the colored doored neighborhoods. Once, I thought they were just for aesthetic purposes, but after taking this class, I’ve come to appreciate that these doors serve as more than just entryways. In a society that never really relied on house addresses, it serves as an efficient mode of landmark navigation, with each unique door’s unique pattern being seen as a unique address.

In conclusion, the colored doors of Al Ain’s traditional folk houses are more than just architectural features—they are living symbols of Emirati culture, tradition, and wayfinding principles. Through their intricate designs and vibrant hues, these doors add to the city’s visual richness and serve as practical landmarks that guide residents and visitors through the maze of Al Ain’s streets. In preserving and celebrating these doors, we honor not only the wayfinding heritage of the region but also the values and traditions that have shaped Emirati society for generations.

References:

figure (1) Alhosani, N. M. (1970a, January 1). Arab wayfinding on land and at sea: An historical comparison of traditional navigation techniques. KU ScholarWorks. https://kuscholarworks.ku.edu/handle/1808/11815

Recently, on our Dubai Transit Symposium trip, while sitting in the women-designed cabin of the Dubai metro, a realization hit me: wayfinding is not as immune to the influence of societal norms and stereotypes surrounding gender as I would’ve expected and deeply ingrained stereotypes influence our interactions with the built environment.

After returning from the trip, I was eager to explore this domain of wayfinding further. After some initial research, I found an interesting paper by János Kállai, a professor at the University of Pecs (1). According to his study, conducted in Hungary and the United States, men tend to prefer orienting to global reference points (finding comfort in orienting themselves to more prominent reference points, drawing upon a sense of spatial awareness that feels more aligned). At the same time, women lean towards a strategy based on route information (relying on landmarks and visual cues to find their way). These two very contrasting wayfinding strategies reflect how individuals approach navigation differently based on gender. What intrigued me the most was the stark contrast in reported wayfinding anxiety between men and women, regardless of their cultural background. It struck me as disheartening that women consistently reported higher levels of wayfinding anxiety than men, highlighting the pervasive influence of gender bias in shaping our navigation experiences. This finding resonated with my own observations and experiences as I reflected on moments of uncertainty and apprehension while navigating unfamiliar environments.

Growing up, I was always encouraged to be independent and adventurous, exploring new places and forging my own path. Yet, after reading about Kállai’s research, I realized that my wayfinding experiences may have been subtly influenced by gender bias. From the maps I used to the signage I encountered, the built environment was filled with subtle cues that reinforced traditional gender roles and expectations.

Take mapmaking, for example. Traditional cartographic representations often reflect historically male-dominated perspectives, prioritizing activities and spaces traditionally associated with men while downplaying or omitting those associated with women. As someone who enjoys outdoor activities like hiking and camping, I’ve noticed how maps often highlight rugged terrain and adventure trails, catering to a predominantly male audience.

Meanwhile, areas such as parks, community centers, and childcare facilities – traditionally associated with women – are often relegated to the margins or overlooked entirely. Similarly, signage within the built environment usually reflects and perpetuates gender biases, shaping our perceptions and interactions with space. Restroom signage, for instance, commonly features binary gender symbols. These exclusionary symbols fail to accommodate the diversity of gender.

Navigational cues within the physical environment also reflect gender biases, shaping our experiences of space in subtle yet profound ways. From urban planning to transportation systems, the design of our built environment often prioritizes the needs and preferences of men, leaving women feeling unacknowledged or unsafe.

So, how can we dismantle gender bias in wayfinding and create more inclusive environments for all genders?

One approach is to adopt a gender-inclusive design framework that prioritizes diversity, equity, and accessibility in wayfinding systems. This involves reimagining traditional symbols, signage, and spatial layouts to accommodate all genders. For example, restroom signage can feature inclusive symbols representing a range of gender identities,

As I continue my journey through the maze of gender bias in wayfinding, I’m reminded that some gender biases are unevidetly prominent in wayfinding. While some are easier to fix than others, it’s important to recognize them all in order to start taking the right steps to fully fixing and tackling these existing biases.

References

(1) Lawton, Carol & Kállai, János. (2002). Gender Differences in Wayfinding Strategies and Anxiety About Wayfinding: A Cross-Cultural Comparison. Sex Roles. 47. 389-401. 10.1023/

Implementing digital experience to physical space

Pokemon Go isn’t the first app to integrate digital mapping to a real world environment, but one can argue that this app has made the biggest impact yet. We’ve all become accustomed to using GPS technology and Google Maps to navigate, however, Pokemon Go expands on this knowledge by incorporating engaging digital/human interaction.

As mentioned in the last point, the app uses specific, highly recognizable cues as markers to draw players towards a space. It then responds by allowing players to progress with further in-game interaction. This is similar to beacon wayfinding that uses near field communication to send wireless notifications to passersby, informing them about their navigation progress (2). The integration with physical systems provides an additional layer of support that contributes to a more complex experience.

It also assists the user in creating a mental model that can be recalled for navigational insight in the future as repeated experiences in a physical space can make specific places memorable.

Orientation in the built environment

In Pokemon Go, PokeStops can be in two states: visited (purple) or non-visited (blue). All PokeStops appear blue when the app is launched, and only turn purple after players visit the site and collect their items. Once they’re purple, they cannot be activated again until 5 minutes have passed, which encourages players to make a choice in navigation. They can wait until the PokeStop refreshes, or can keep moving on to the next non-visited location (1) . Many choose the second option.

Therefore, the PokeStops also serve to orient players in the physical environment. By seeing distinct cues between what’s been passed and what’s yet to be discovered, a player can orient themself and travel from one location to another. Along the way, a player can discover new insights about their environment,  catch a Pokemon or two , making the journey just as important as reaching the next destination.

From a wayfinding standpoint, this is comparable to pillar signs that move people from one sign to another (2). By spotting the next sign in the sequence, perhaps off in the distance, a user can orient themselves with the environment and start travelling towards the destination. This also allows the user to enjoy the journey because they’re assured by the signage that they’ll reach their destination. Maybe they’ll even pick up more memorable cues along the way.

Pokémon Go’s effect on the future of navigation

The Pokémon Go interface defined geographic space just as much as a traditional map, where the game’s most noteworthy feature is the absence of any street names: your only navigation clues are nameless blocks and intersections and named landmarks. This makes Pokémon Go far closer to pre-cartographic navigation by landmark than to modern wayfinding via street names and addresses.Technology can now handle the location and navigation work for us; we no longer need to locate ourselves in order to get where we want to go.

This street-name-free navigation is a natural progression from GPS-guided navigation rather than traditional route planning. While Google does provide instructions like “turn left on Corniche Street in half a mile,” ultimately, we’re primarily following automated voices directing us to “turn left,” “turn right,” or “continue.” If this becomes our primary mode of navigating, the necessity of street names may disappear entirely.

Conclusion

Pokémon Go is preparing us for a world in which GPS, driverless cars and location-aware mobile phones transform street names, place names and even maps themselves into old fashioned artifacts. Reality is, technology can now handle the location and navigation work for us; often, we no longer have to locate ourselves much in order to get where we want to go.

References 

(1) Lopez, German. “Pokémon Go, Explained.” Vox, 11 July 2016, www.vox.com/2016/7/11/12129162/pokemon-go-android-ios-game.

(2) Gibson, David. The Wayfinding Handbook : Information Design for Public Places. New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 2009.

“Once you see Rabdan Park, take the first turn, go down the road, the second house on the street, that’s our address,” my Dad would always tell the carrier/ delivery service company. To most, this would seem like a dysfunctional and complicated way of wayfinding, and while my dad’s instructions for giving our address always puzzled outsiders, in Abu Dhabi, landmark-based navigation is a deeply ingrained tradition. Before the advent of a formal postal code system, relying on recognizable landmarks was the norm, and for long-time residents, it was an effective method. However, the challenge arises when newcomers unfamiliar with these unconventional directions enter the scene.

To understand the landmark navigation scene in Abu Dhabi, it’s essential first to define the term “landmark” strictly: an object or feature of a landscape or town that is easily seen and recognized from a distance.

Landmarks should contrast with their background or have a precise shape or another specific characteristic that makes them prominent. This idea is summed up in the word “conspicuous.” That’s one factor that makes a landmark a landmark; another one is longevity; landmarks stand the test of time, enduring for centuries, and often gain greater significance and reverence as everyone knows about them. Finally, preservation and conservation efforts play a huge role where well-maintained cities protected from damage or destruction are more likely to retain their significance and iconic status over time.

Iconic sites

In Abu Dhabi, a city blending tradition with modernity, landmarks like the Sheikh Zayed Mosque and the Etihad Towers may catch the eye, but it’s the older structures like Qasr Al Hosn and neighborhood-specific references that truly define navigation in the city.

Qasr Al Hosn, built as a watchtower in the late 18th century, evolved into a palace and witnessed the city’s transformation over the centuries. Today, it serves as a museum, offering insights into the emirate’s past through exhibits. This landmark is unique because it’s at the heart of the city, one of the oldest buildings in AD, and has been used as a point of reference for navigation around the downtown area for years and years. I realized its significance when I was assigned an assignment for one of my core classes where we had to locate a traditional house in the heart of downtown Abu Dhabi. Due to how old it is, it didn’t have a proper address. Instead, our given navigation instructions were “approach Qasr Al Hosn from entrance A, then to your right, you should see a street light, cross that street, and you’ll come across a narrow path that leads to the house’s neighborhood.” Surprisingly, because I have been unconsciously using the Qasr al Hosn building as a reference point for years, I was able to locate the house quickly.

Many other smaller-scale landmarks are nitrous among residents; an example includes the “Mubkara” roundabout, the only way thing preventing my grandma from getting lost on her way to the tailor every week.

Ultimately, that’s the main pillar of landmark navigation in AD: historical significance.

Challenges

This system might be efficient for residents who have lived in the city for years, but what happens when newcomers face this? To investigate, I asked a few of my friends about the navigation experience around the downtown area, and overall, the feedback was that it was challenging for various reasons. The most prominent one was that many establishments had similar names (for example, hundreds of restaurants called “Shawarma Cafeteria”); locating other locations based on common point/landmark names is a significant obstacle. Another common issue many face is the lack of online documentation of these places. Most reference landmarks here in AD are old; however, if you search them online, no results come up; therefore, this proves to be a major setback to a newcomer as well. Finally, the final common issue contrasts with the latter, whereas in a continuously evolving and developing city, things are constantly being built, taken down, renovated, moved around, etc.… Therefore, let’s say you depend on a specific structure as your navigation point; however, the next, due to renovation, it’s gone, and your chances of finding your location are gone too now. 

Conclusion

Landmark navigation in Abu Dhabi is deeply rooted in tradition, history, and the unique blend of cultural heritage and modernity. While iconic structures like the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque and the Etihad Towers may dominate the skyline, it is the older, more historically significant landmarks like Qasr Al Hosn and smaller, neighborhood-specific references like the “Mubkhra” roundabout that genuinely shape the way residents navigate their surroundings. However, this traditional approach to navigation poses challenges for newcomers, who may struggle to distinguish between similarly named establishments, lack documentation of landmarks, and contend with the ever-changing urban landscape; therefore, as Abu Dhabi continues to evolve and grow, striking a balance between preserving historical landmarks and adapting to modern developments will be crucial in enhancing navigation efficiency for both residents and visitors alike.