Brasilia may just be the place where the next great civilisation will spring from. It may be the place where great legislative changes will pour forth and change the lot of the average Brazilian. It may also be the place where civil issues finally come to the front of a subdued national consciousness and rise phoenix-like from today's chaos to bring long term stability and prosperity to the continent. It may be all these things, or none. But, despite its wide deserted streets, its science fiction inspired architecture and its strange compartmentalised layout I couldn't help but bond with Brasilia and found myself quite quickly coming to terms with it.

Perhaps the real attraction of Brasilia is its population. Moving through the offices and ministries you continually meet the most nomadic of city dwellers. It's not the surreptitious shuffling of airline timetables or the ghost-town-like feel of places on Friday afternoon or Monday morning but the way that everyone seems permanently on the move and in transit between Brasilia and somewhere - anywhere - else. People don't seem to live in Brasilia in the true sense of the word - they exist on a more profound and yet transient level, moving from place to place like smoke blown from a guttering candle. For me, it was like a strange coming home.

Art critic Robert Hughes described Brasilia as "a utopian horror. It should be a symbol of power, but instead it's a museum of architectural. It is a ceremonial slum infested with Volkswagens."

Niemeyer responded, "I sought the curved and sensual line. The curve that I see in the Brazilian hills, in the body of a loved one, in the clouds in the sky and in the ocean waves."

Russian astronaut Yuri Gagarin said that, "...the impression I have is that I'm arriving on a different planet."

However, my favourite quotes comes from Julian Dibbel who described Brasilia as, "...intended, after all, to give the impression of having been built neither by nor for mere earthlings. A race of hyperintelligent Volkswagens, perhaps, or aliens who speak a language made up entirely of Euclidean axioms, might be expected to feel at home in this sidewalk-poor zone of perfectly circulating asphalt arteries and relentlessly clean lines of design - but not any species as puny and unkempt as homo sapiens."

But this is only one aspect of the truth, and compared to other planned cities I had visited, Brasilia definitely seemed to offer more potential. I guessed this was something to do with the difficulty of imposing meaninglessly rigid rules on the Brazilians rather then the failure of architectural idealism.

Impressive architecture, it seems, does not equate to ideal living conditions - a fact which many people overlook - and away from the glam and glittery life of embassy parties and governmental limos the less fortunate eke out an existence in the favellas which surround Brasilia. These people, who nightly watch the sun drain from the sky and colour chrome fronted buildings shades of blood, are also deeply ingrained with nomadic desires. Come nightfall, and after the first beer has quenched parched throats, there is only one topic of conversation - home and how one day, after making their fortune in the gold-lined streets of the nation's capital, they will return to their homes - older, wiser and richer. A dream, perhaps, we all should share.

The following is Philip's first article for the magazine:

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