Spacious colonial houses designed for an era of live-in relatives and staffs of servants are too big for today's small nuclear families. Old hospital buildings do not have the space needed for modern medical equipment. Old libraries cannot accommodate ever-growing numbers of books. People do not ride trains as much any more, so graceful old railway stations fall into disuse. Communities can no longer support the dozens of convents and churches that crowd a typical historic district.
Maintenance becomes prohibitive and buildings deteriorate.
The death knell comes when the land an old building occupies becomes more valuable than the structure itself. The old walls come down, to be replaced by apartment buildings and offices, and another piece of urban heritage is gone forever. To a pragmatist, the cycle of urban death and renewal is simply the way a city evolves to meet the changing needs of its residents. But for a growing number of people in Latin America and the Caribbean, historic buildings and neighborhoods are more than mere real estate. In fact, both the pragmatists and the romantics make valid points, says Eduardo Rojas, the IDB's senior urban planner.