ORIENT EXPRESS REPORTER tripled

Everybody needs good neighbours in Neukölln, Berlin

Monday, November 12 2012 By Nabeelah | Tripled: Belgrade to Berlin

The district is famed for its media coverage of violence and failed integration. Yet it is also a recent example of Berlin’s gentrification. Of its 315, 000 residents, 41% are migrants; more than one in five are unemployed. A city magazine recently declared my street to be one of the trendiest places in Berlin. But what do the inhabitants see in this place, asks German journalist Franziska Hessberger (Translation by Hannah Keet)

Everybody needs good neighbours in Neukölln, Berlin

(Image: (cc) kbirkenbach/ Flickr)

Eugen is surprised when I try to talk to him outside on Weichselstraße (‘Weichsel street’). It’s 11am. The white-haired man, who has a weather-beaten face and lank hair, is sitting in front of his ‘filling station’ – what he calls the kiosk at no. 62 Weichselstraße. A can of beer costs just 80 cents here. Eugen explains that the kiosk is a good fall-back option since the typical Berliner corner pubs are being replaced by gambling halls and chic cafés.

I live here, too

Eugen is Austrian and has been living in Neukölln for thirty years. He sneers when I tell him I live here, too. Yet after ten minutes he offers me a seat next to him on the wooden bench and a swig of his bottle of booze, since I’m now a Berliner as well. He did all sorts after studying art; he still draws. If material is in short supply, he also uses cigarette ash and spit. Eugen spent some time in a monastery in Kathmandu and in a cave in northern Spain, but he comes back to Neukölln time after time. People leave him alone here. ‘The most important thing in life is freedom. I have that here,’ he philosophises.

The estate sales business has been running for the past fifteen years | © Luka Knezevic-Strika

Helge‘s kitchen is exactly above mine. He moved into the apartment 26 years ago on a Sunday morning; the architect has been living at no. 66 Weichselstraße ever since. The 70-year-old seems amazingly youthful, as does his apartment. In 1986, when he moved in, the Berlin wall stood at the end of Weichselstraße. The control area began at the upper end. The street was avoided a lot of the time. It was quiet. But the unusual atmosphere has not changed since then: ‘Being able to make something from nothing was and is appealing,’ he says. ‘Everything was simple and stayed simple, too.’ There are still many small studios and galleries, but they don’t stay open for long.

Helge in his kitchen | © Franziska Hessberger

Rent hike

It takes me ten minutes to walk along the 850-metre Weichselstraße. Decorated pre-war buildings are scattered among buildings constructed in the 1950s. Graffiti sprayers dabble on the building walls. I count no more than twenty bars, cafés and restaurants. There’s an organic supermarket opposite the discount store. The organic ice cream parlour and the kiosk are just one hundred metres apart. The last building at the upper end of the street is number 34. Annette, a journalist, lived there until 2005. ‘Seven years ago there wasn’t even one bar, just Turkish bakeries and electrical goods shops. There were syringes lying around in the playground over there,’ she says. The ground floor of her building, like so many others, was boarded up until 2006 when Cafe Rudimarie opened. Nowadays, stylish parents get themselves a coffee to go before they head to the playground next door.

The prices at Cafe Rudimarie remind Thomas of the lifestyle in Friedrichshain, another district of Berlin - so do the expensive rent prices and the hipsters who he came to Neukölln to escape. ‘It used to be more mixed here,’ he explains. ‘Now only a certain few can afford an apartment here.’ There are forty tenants in nos. 37 and 38. Over the past two years, the tenants have changed in thirty of these apartments due to the increasing rents after refurbishment. Hardly anyone moved out voluntarily. Thomas’ 80 metres squared apartment with stove heating costs 380 euros per month. After redevelopment, the rent will rise to 750 euros. ‘Property managers are transferring the costs to the residents and rent prices are increasing,’ says Thomas. ‘When everything is paid off in ten years’ time, the rent prices will stay high. Nobody acts in a socially responsible manner around here!’ He was one of the only people in the building to take legal action against the increase in rent. He lost the first lawsuit, but he is still suing. If nothing changes, he’ll move away.

A cinema-cum-cheap supermarket | © Luka Knezevic-Strika

There is a café nearby that Thomas has never been to which opened two and a half years ago. It has large windows and old furniture inside. During its renovation, curious residents would often take a peek inside. The coffee shop owner, who wants to stay anonymous, tells me about the sceptical faces in the kiosk next door when he popped his head in and told them that they should come by. The prices and the young, fashion-conscious clientele aren’t exactly appealing to the core residents of Neukölln. ‘We want to create an environment where people can really talk,’ says the owner. ‘This isn’t possible if twenty people want to dance here.’ They are doing without tourists, and are relying on a quiet atmosphere and space instead.

The future is bright

Ferhat is carry out building works another street corner over. ‘This neighbourhood will be the most popular in all of Berlin within the next three years,’ he says, explaining his vision. The 32-year-old wants to open a kiosk with a deli department at no. 54 Weichselstraße. He is paying 3, 000 euros for almost 300 squared metres. He proudly shows me every room of the contorted shell construction. He has torn out old carpets, exposed bricks, polished floorboards, and invested around 70, 000 euros. He has high hopes. A neighbour once told him that Weichselstraße was once as famous and popular as Kurfürstendamm – Berlin’s answer to Paris‘ Champs-Élysées – is today, with many shops and pubs. He is now renovating one of these pubs.

Ferhat: his kiosk is being renovated | © Franziska Hessberger

A group of young graphic designers and illustrators are also relying on the future of Weichselstraße. They have just set up Salon Renate in building no. 65. Eva, a graphic designer from Portugal, did one work placement after the other in Berlin until she decided to become self-employed; flyers for the next bar or tenant protest campaign could be designed in her office. She feels inspired by Neukölln’s day-by-day transformation.

Eva at her office | © Luka Knezevic-Strika

In spite of all of the problems, these are some of the people in Weichselstraße who value the mixture of highly diverse life concepts. But how much change can one place take until it loses what makes it unique?

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Images: main (cc) kbirkenbach/ flickr; in-text Helge & Ferhat © Franziska Hessberger; all other images by © Luka Knezevic-Strika for Orient Express Reporter Tripled, Berlin 2012, by cafebabel.com

Touristy Teufelsberg: Berlin’s gentrified cold-war relict (14 images)

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Belgrade to Berlin

Once upon a time, the ‘listening’ intelligence station was manned 24/7 from the 1960s until the fall of the Berlin wall. The secret gem on a hill of the German capital, otherwise known as ‘devils mountain’, offered adventure and great views of the city. Nowadays organised tours are officially on weekends at 2pm but in practice, organisers are stalking the complex for people who jump the gate or find holes in the fence, only to charge them or force them off the premises. There are also official plans to host clean energy projects as well as artists. There may be no citizens here, but Teufelsberg’s story is a prime attempt at gentrification, though the emergent spontaneous sense of spirit seems to have tamed and dissolved with recent developments. As legal as it all may be, it doesn’t feel right, says Serbian photographer Luka Knezevic-Strika

The Devil’s Mountain aka Teufelsberg in Berlin is a story in itself - man-made from the rubble of hundreds of thousands of bombed Berlin houses, put on top of a never-to-be nazi military academy. On top of the hill lies this cold-war relic, the listening station. View from the road in the German forest Grunewalde

This fence has been repaired and breached multiple times in the past years, a sign of the struggle of Berliners and other guests to get in

When the holes in the fence are all patched up, the gate has to do

A ‘reception desk’ on the other side of the gate with a disconnected phone

In the centre of the complex, a place used for parties, and bottles that are evidence of a recent one

This Dutch tourist went to a party at Teufelsberg earlier in the summer and is now back in an attempt to explore the complex on his own, rather than pay for a tour. It proves impossible, and after a little struggle with the tour operator Shalmon, who refuses to let him walk around, a very large security guard acts as ‘muscle’ and kicks all of us out

The crew who operate the tours seem to have a deal with the investor group that bought the premises and didn’t succeed in turning it into a luxurious apartment complex

Shalmon Abraham - one of the tour guides, and the man behind the whole operation - wants to make Teufelsberg more organised, less fun, and therefore safer. Some of his concerns are legitimate, but it feels it would be a better place if it stayed more open. Maybe this is impossible, but plans people had for Teufelsberg failed before

The cold-war relic is one of the biggest and probably the most important ‘listening’ intelligence stations consists of a complex of several towers with radomes. These used to be fitted with radar equipment and manned 24/7 from the 1960s until the fall of the Berlin wall. This is a view of the main radome, and a smaller one in front of it

Ex-army officer Christopher Mclarren used to work here in the 1970s and is now one of the tour guides. He feels that the listening station on Teufelsberg, and the Russian one on the border to the east, were actually the wardens of peace, because both sides ‘knew everything’ they did. So any action would have been less likely to succeed. This knowledge was one of the reasons neither of the sides did anything

Tower of the main radome, which offers unmatched acoustic properties. The drapes on the walls were partially cut as an artist intervention in 2001

Grunewalde forest and far west of Berlin from the highest tower

Inside the main radome, people usually savour the moment, and listen to seemingly everlasting echoes of every sound they make

Sunset from the top level of the main radome, through the drapes that constantly wave in the wind, creating a powerful sound. Heard from the nearby forest, it sounds like a heavy truck on a road somewhere in the distance

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Inside a feminist Thai boxing class in Berlin

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Belgrade to Berlin

Historically, women’s boxing was recognised for the first time at the 2012 London Olympic games. In one of the most queer and women-friendly capitals of Europe, the Lowkick association offers sex-segregated combat sport and self-defence classes for transgender women, though mainly cis-gender women attend. Defined as a ‘feminist’ project, French journalist Céline Mouzon explores further (Translation: English language version of cafebabel.com)

Inside a feminist Thai boxing class in Berlin

(Image: main (cc) dabemurphy/ Flickr)

The session has started a mere fifteen minutes ago and the fighters are already covered in sweat, the windows behind them steaming up. It’s aFriday night in southern Berlin at one of Ruth’s classes, which has eight participants this evening. The students have been practising Muay Thai or Thai boxing for at least two years at this feminist club in the neighbourhood of Neukölln. ‘In mixed-sex clubs I often felt that I had to prove myself,’ explains Caro, a short-haired woman in pink shorts with a tattooed neck. Nicole, a veteran in martial arts classes, agrees: ‘Either you are hit because you are a girl and thus you are weak, or you hit too hard for a girl, and thus men have to prove they are better.’

Feminist adventure

‘

Those who do not define themselves as masculine are welcome,’ runs the Lowkick site | The association also offers help to non-German speaking women and women with children

Lowkick was created in 2009 by Claudia Inken and two of her former students, the aforementioned Ruth and Gisa. The association provides a sex-segregated space for women to practise kickboxing as well as self-defence and Thai boxing. Today, there are 250 members on the registers. The feminist adventure is not only limited to being ‘feminine’. ‘Many people would find a feminist club the only place where you don’t have to think about your gender; power games are not welcome here,’ says Ruth with a frank look and wide smile.

The students sit in a circle as they do before every course and introduce themselves, as well as explaining how they are feeling physically and emotionally. One has an injury to her foot, whilst another would like to be careful with her shoulder tonight. ‘It’s one way of emphasising that these are all individuals with their own stories who come here,’ explains Ruth. ‘This is a unique milieu with military origins and a strong sense of respect to the master.’ Lowkick provides an alternative approach to the sport, although it is not fixed. Those who find the prices for the classes too high – they usually go for between 25 to 50 euros – can also talk to the team members to find a solution.

A bit of running, a few push-ups, and the warm-ups in teams of two begin. The hall is flooded with colours, with neon lights and the yellow floor covered with sports mats, as night falls outside. Hands are protected with bandages and the boxers repeat the same movement. A head waits for its adversary to the right and responds by striking out to the left. The gesture must become mechanical. A beep goes off from a small black box which Ruth has laid out next to the music player, signalling the duration of each exercise and the rhythm of the movement. Ruth laughs when I ask if Thai boxing is more feminist than other martial arts. ‘It’s all down to personal taste,’ she says. ‘We use our bodies, our legs too, whereas it’s all about the upper body in boxing. In kickboxing we don’t use the knees or the elbows.’

Self-confidence

Caro takes her nose piercings out and pops her protective gums in. Warm-ups are over, and it’s time to put the knee- and leg-protecters and gloves on. The girls start to emit noises - Tss, Tss - as they send their elbows flying towards each other’s heads. Neko first came here to learn about self defence. Pauline wanted to try out kickboxing. Both now visit to practise Thai boxing, and also because they enjoy the atmosphere. ‘You develop all these mental reflexes and become more confident,’ agree Caro and Maria.

T

he ‘nak muay’ or ‘nak muay farang’ at work | The terms mean ‘western boxers’

It sounds like empowerment, a term decrypted by Celine Jayrome Robinet in his blog I Am A Queer Berliner (‘Ich bin ein Berliner queer’): ‘Empowerment implicates the conscience of where you want to go; for example, to feel safe. The switch that you need to reach for, and the legitimacy which you feel in using these levers. Often a third element is missing; self-defence allows you to work on that with a psychological dimension.’ Lowkick is not holding any self-defence classes tonight. ‘If you find yourself being threatened with an armed person in the street, it’s better to react with a self-defence mechanism which would get you out of the ring in any kind of match,’ says Ruth. ‘Thai boxing, kick-boxing and boxing are all about respecting very precise rules.’

Muay Thai uses punches, kicks, elbows and knee strikes

Tss! Tss! The course is winding up. The last exercise for the day is free combat and body disciplines, grabbing an adversary’s head in between your arms and striking their stomach with your knee. Ruth’s soundtrack for the night is a CD from a German ska-reggae group, Irie Révoltés. Knees hit stomach to the rhythms of lyrics such as ‘Oh - the revolt are back again, we have to continue our resistance/ Oh - the revolts are back again, the music and the movement run through our veins.’

It’s nearly half past eight in the evening, class is over, and bikes are mounted through the autumny Berlin in the direction of Weserstrasse, a trendy street in the same neighbourhood of Neukölln. Tonight’s students were all attending the weekly cis-gender class, for ‘people who accept the feminine identity they were born with’, as Lowkick describe it, and thus which comprises transgender women too. On the club’s website, the invitation is called: ‘training for WomenLesbiansTrans and Transgender people and their girlfriends’. Over a beer, the boxers explain that Lowkick does not really have a good reputation for how it treats transgender people, but Caro says their inclusion will come with time. ‘It’s the same thing at Seitewechsel,’ she adds, referring to an old-school lesbian sports club in Berlin. ‘The only thing that Lowkick is missing is an open forum for discussion.’ They are glad that there is a woman-only space at the association, although they do feel it could be even more open to different gender identities.

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany; read more on the official blog here. Many thanks to cafebabel Berlin

Images: main (cc) dabemurphy/ Flickr; in-text all images by © Céline Mouzon for Orient Express Reporter Tripled, by cafebabel.com, Berlin 2012

Organic food community of Lyon

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

Public discourse in France on environmental issues have long become the norm, and environmental advocacy groups have had significant influence.‬ ‪But how they are implemented locally? German journalist‬ Rabea Ottenhues visits three organisations in Lyon that have helped develop sustainable lifestyles in the city. Translation: Daniel Stächelin

The Composters

Lyon has its own unique rustic charm, with its many small alleys of the old town centre, and with the hills and the banks of the river Rhône that surround the city.‬ ‪Eco-shops such as Les trois ptits pois (’the three little peas’) and urban gardens like L’atelier des friches are noticeable but blend naturally into the cityscape.‬ ‪Green plots and environmental initiatives can be found in many corners and squares of the city.‬

Céline and Valentin: harvesting what one sows

One of these spots is the ‘reservation of the L’atelier des Friches organisation. ‘The ‘friche’ of the organisation’s title is a place where nothing exists.‬ ‪It’s a place that man has left untouched, allowing nature to blossom and grow on its own,’ says Céline, founder of the organisation.‬ ‪The abandoned land was also once the site of a former factory in southern Lyon, in which the organisation’s four leaders have been cultivating a garden since 2010, with the intent of having it be ’another world in the middle of the city’.‬

Valentin | L’atelier des friches

‪Ten families share the cultivated areas for herbs, vegetables and fruits.‬ The ground, on which until a few years ago a factory stood, is contaminated.‬ ‪Therefore nine raised garden beds have been made available for cultivation. ‪Memberships costs only ten euros a year, allowing members of the collective to harvest what they want; the notion of ownership doesn’t exist on the reservation. ‬ ‪However, regularly contributing and taking an active role in the work is an inherent part of the rules of the collective.‬ ‪’It’s supposed to be an open space, which is why there aren’t fences or gates,’ says Valentin, who has been working for the organisation for the past few months.‬ ‪But this also has its drawbacks.‬ ‪Roughly ten percent of the harvest winds up in strangers’ mouths.‬

‪Valentin prepares the kids’ activities for the next couple of days in the reservation. ‬ ‪It’s not just to entertain the children, but above all, to educate them.‬ It isn’t self-evident knowledge for many children in the city that tomatoes grow on bushes or how many different types of herbs there are.‬ ‪ Valentin is building a device for a trivia game,‬ through which the children learn to distinguish fruits, vegetables and herbs from each other on the basis of appearance, smell and taste.‬ Programmes like these happen twice a month to sensitise children to nature and organic food.‬

‪Julien, Olivier and three little peas

The concept of growing your own vegetables defines the organic foods of Les trois ptits pois. Julien and Olivier opened the store in March 2010.‬ ‪Even from a distance, the green spot on the otherwise fairly drab street in the Lyon suburb of La Guillotière is discernable. ‬‪Sunflowers and other forms of vegetation line the storefront. This is not an ‘organic supermarket’ as are so run-of-the-mill today in most major cities, which can barely be differentiated from conventional supermarkets.‬ Les trois ptits pois is not the only organic grocery in Lyon, but a lot of heart and soul has been invested in it,which you can sense the moment you step foot in the door.‬

‪Julien knew the producers and quality of the goods long before the store’s grand opening, since organic foods are the only things he would eat.‬ About 1, 000 products are currently purchasable in the two small rooms of the store, for which Julien and Olivier have developed a system to sort them into one of four categories.‬ ‪It’s important for the shop owners that their products are organic, that they know who the producers are, and that they are produced, if possible, locally, and that the packaging in which they come are environmentally friendly.‬ ‪Unlike many other organic stores, they also make sure they they don’t sell everything in plastic wrapping or cardboard boxes.‬ ‪Flour, sugar and salt come in large sacks, ‪cereal and nuts are kept in large dispensers while oil and vinegar are kept in canisters.‬ Most customers bring their own containers with them, but otherwise, paper bags and recycled glass bottles are available.‬

Julien

‪Running their own organic business isn’t enough for the eco-entrepreneurs.‬ ‪They’ve also supported so-called ‘micromagasins’ or ‘small businesses’. This works through, and is an integral part of, the concept of collective purchasing, in which fifteen small groups order goods from les trois ptits pois once a week.‬ ‪They supply goods for the many ‘small businesses’ that are sprawled throughout the city, thereby providing 200 people in Lyon with organic foods.‬

‪Collective composting with Mathieu and Bastien‬

‪In order to confront the garbage problem in the city, Mathieu and Bastian founded the association Les Compostiers (‘the composters’) in 2009. The idea to build compost heaps for collective use was gleaned from a neighbouring town in which such a project had already existed.‬ ‪As of recently, fifteen communal compost heaps have been made available in Lyon. ‪The first compost heap that they had built is just a few meters away from the composters’ office, in an open space amidst five-story buildings. ‪Until recently there had still been a house standing in the space, but it’s grown rampant with grasses and other plants, while berries grow in one corner and tomatoes and pumpkins grow in another.‬ ‪These themselves weren’t planted; rather, they grew out of the compost that was spread across the ground.

Delphine | ‘Les Compostiers’

‪Delphine is one of the ten volunteers who works full-time for the ‘composters’. She opens the lid to the compost, allowing a steamy and sweet and sour odour to come her way. ‬ The compost heaps only work through personal management.‬ ‪The composters stand by with help and advice in the planning process and while the compost heap is being built.‬ ’It’s important that they build it with their own hands,’ says Delphine.‬ ‪Community stewardship is, after all, is the primary principle. ’A community can then later develop a communal vegetable garden,’ adds Mathieu, since, after all, the 15, 000 kilos of compost that are produced in a year will need to be put to use.‬ ‪The mutually agreed upon goal in the city of Lyon is as follows: to build eight new compost heaps each year over the next two years.‬ ‪The composters hope that it’ll be even more.‬

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany; read more on the official blog here

Images: © Rabea Ottenhues for ‘Orient Express Tripled’ by cafebabel.com, Lyon 2012; Valentin © Artur Krzykowiak

Vintage item shopping in Lyon

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

Vintage can be trendy, boring, hipster or fake. But what does the term really mean - does the new version of Fiat 500 or a super trendy Mini car qualify as vintage? Is it a trend, lifestyle or an answer to reduce Europe overgrown consumption, asks Artur Krzykowiak

What would you call a person who is shopping in a vintage styled shop such as the British retailer All Saints where the only vintage items are decoration (see: sewing machines in windows worldwide)? Everyone accepts the fact that clothes are designed and produced today only to look like they were old. It’s also often more expensive than buying something from an actual original vintage store. Even there nothing is sacred: in the most authentic vintage bazaars and shops there are number of vintage collectables that are simply fake copies from recent years. Why are so many of us obsessed with the vintage styling when so few actually understand what it is, or know how to seek the real old stuff?

Inside Les Ateliers de Marinette

In Lyon, central-east France, I found around 30 vintage shops and a number of successful businesses that pivot around the vintage concept. There is a vintage hostel and bars filled with items from previous decades. You can even do a city tour on old French mopeds called Solex.

In France ‘vintage’ is not just used for marketing stylised goods, but is a concept which is very alive in many parts of everyday life. In the rare vintage collector’s shop Les Ateliers de Marinette, vintage passion is a lifestyle for Gerard Murat, who has been collecting various items for over 30 years. His passion was passed onto his son, Thibault, who now helps run the shop and also the recent addition to their family business, a vintage bistro / coffee shop next door. Here, Murat’s collections of vintage food and drink packaging decorate the walls.

Inside you are transported to the sixties or seventies. As well as being a tourist attraction and local treasure hunt spot, customers pop in to talk about the old times, and show their kids what they used to eat and drink when they were young. Murat’s collections are innovative education materials not just for oral storytelling, but in practice, for various workshops that are run in the atelier. The participants, mainly students, use the rare opportunity to learn about history of product production, marketing and packaging design. Murat and his son say they will try to involve other collectors across France to share their treasures for education purposes. If they succeed they will create a very unique way of learning about the past. Les Ateliers de Marinette prides itself on being something between a museum and a shop, with an amazing collection of rare vintage brands such as Michelin, Ricard and La vache qui rit. Some items have been used in famous Lyon’s film industry to create realistic looking sets.

Modern take

‘Vintage is a way to reduce the consumption and production of goods,’ adds Thibault. ‘It’s reusing and recycling. Europe produces too many unnecessary goods, and most of it can be found in vintage stores, attics, cupboards, cellars or even junkyards. It’s incredible how much energy is used to produce new items. All of them should be better, faster, more functional and more colourful.’ Perhaps thinking a little more like Thibault can help reduce the carbon foot print of our generation. We don’t need to love vintage; we don’t need to wear used clothes; but there are so many things that can be reused and recycled. A number of old items can be given a new use far from its original design concept; in one flat I visit in the centre of the city, I learnt that all of the lighting fixtures were used from old factories. It looked fabulous, cost next to nothing and helped the environment.

Watch this space for the 12th annual vintage fashion fair (Marché de la Mode Vintage), which takes place on 13 and 14 April 2013 in Lyon. In 2010, 25, 000 people descended onto the event. That’s not bad in a city of almost 500, 000!

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

What happened when a Turk tried to enter German borders in 2012?

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

After hosting the cafebabel.com team in Istanbul, I embarked on pursuing a story in Hamburg. Inspired by my humble academic expertise, I decided to investigate the state of media plurality in the media capital of Germany, says Burcu Baykurt

Every Turk who is an avid traveller should know how it feels like being so close to Europe but also terribly far from it every time we want to travel. The stories of the gruelling visa process just to be able to hop on a plane and fly for a couple hours never get old. To your surprise, that wasn’t a problem for me as I had already had a visa, valid for two months, and the cafebabel.com team nicely accommodated my situation.

My problem, though, was the questioning look on the face of the border control officer when he looked at my passport and said ‘I cannot let you enter the country, miss’. I had a valid visa, but I’d exceeded the maximum amount of time I was allowed to spend within the Schengen area. ‘That’s very tricky for many people,’ said the kind officer, ‘many people misunderstand it’. A friend of mine said I’d deserved it because I had not checked the details enough.

On the one hand, he was right. Being a Turkish citizen who travels a lot, I should have been cautious enough to get prepared before hopping on a plane. On the other hand, there was something profoundly wrong with that feeling of ‘getting deserved’ because of a ‘tricky’ system.

Ironically, German citizens do not need a visa to enter Turkey. Pictured, a cafebabel.com trip to Istanbul in 2010, when the Spanish, British and Polish jounalists naively found themselves amongst a small EU minority needing visas to enter the country - but at least in Turkey, a visa can be bought at the airport itself for around 10-15 euros. Image © Katharina Kloss

The Schengen visa regulation is one of the most celebrated projects in EU history, because it profoundly symbolizes the solidarity and trust among the member states. However, to outsiders, it means a privilege that you should deserve to obtain because you are not trustworthy until you’re handed a visa. I will not get into the rather philosophical discussion of how visas and border checks clash with the right to move, which was once for everyone who wants to explore and travel the world. But while one of the objectives of Schengen is to eliminate barriers against the free movement of goods, people, and ideas in Europe, equality has never been at the forefront of the system. Whether it is candidate countries or non-EU states, the Schengen visa regulation and application procedures could easily tell a lot about which countries are perceived to be wealthy, or which ones are feared to flood into Europe.

Visa woes through Turkish art and music

Turkey, for example, is the only country to hold EU membership talks without the benefit of the visa liberalisation. Bulgaria and Romania are the two other countries that have not yet enjoyed the free movement even though they have been members since 2007. For all three countries, the problem seems to be the potential influx of illegal immigrants, but a huge imbalance in the visa application procedure still exists, depending on which country one is from and through which country the application runs through. Starting from the number of documents asked for to the number of days that the processing takes, rules and regulations seem to be flexible for those countries that could bring significant tourist money, and tightened for those that cannot.

Devrim Kadirbeyoglu's installation courtesy of © devrimkadirbeyoglu.com

To illustrate the difficulties faced by Turkish citizens during visa applications, the Turkish artist Devrim Kadirbeyoglu launched a public art installation last year: ‘Who Draws the Line?’ Using the excerpts of complaints submitted by citizens to the Visa Hotline, Kadirbeyoglu’s project aimed to communicate the human stories behind the procedural requirements of Schengen visa. By combining humour and protest, musician Sarp Yeletaysi made a song called ‘Schengen Macht Frei’ (‘Schengen Sets You Free’) in 2011 to raise awareness about what he calls a ‘violation of basic human rights’.

The Turkish jazz guitarist Onder Focan’s latest album is called 36mm Biometric, again as a tribute to the non-standard Schengen visa process that kept him in queues for hours and required him to submit pages of documents every time he attempted to get a visa. While my response to the unjust visa system is not as creative as others, we all agree on one message: we do not want those contingent lines that not only separate us, but also imply to determine our trustworthiness.

Read part I of 'A Turkish tale of cafebabel.com and borders: an insider/outsider story' here

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

‘Gäengeviertel’: Hamburg’s ‘little island’ of resistance

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

The financial crisis has had its repercussions in Hamburg too. The property bubble burst. It left behind only two historical buildings in the district of Gängeviertel, where artists, far left-wing activists and supporters decided to set up shop in 2009. They are fighting against the building of skyscrapers in the northern German city by squatting in what's left of the old town. Unfortunately, they also refused to be photographed for the story, so French photographer Nicolas Datiche takes us on a guide around their 'offices' (Translation from the French by Julia Graney)

Several points of entry to the 'Gängeviertel' (which literally means 'neighbourhood of corridors' in English) are made up of little porches that open into the interior courts, which are cut off from the ultra-urban life of Hamburg

The old buildings, which are what make this neighbourhood beautiful, are surrounded by a bunch of glass high-rises, which little by little are overshadowing the last parcels of land not yet acquired by developers

The face of a man drawn on the wall of a building that the occupants have not yet refurbished. The restoration is done progressively at the liberty of the residents

Graffiti on one of the walls of an interior court of the 'Gängeviertel'. This quarter also serves as a place of artistic expression for young artists without a workshop to practice their art

Open-air gallery. Residents of the quarter and surroundings can come to discover the artistic creations of the residents

Several maps are placed on the walls of the 'Gängeviertel' in order to indicate the different areas (bar, gallery, art workshop …) that you can find here

A terrace was installed in one of the interior courts to allow people to take advantage of the peace and quiet

Several buildings are in such a state that they can’t be used. The occupants are trying to find solutions to be able to restore the entirety of the 'little island' in order to preserve its rich history

There is one topic of debate that residents of the 'Gängeviertel' often become passionate about: whether or not to allow tourists unlimited access to their 'little island'. The quarter is an artistic zone that exists to show the public the works of art produced, but at the same time is a zone of ideological resistance that can easily turn into a tourist attraction

From an artistic standpoint as well as from a political standpoint, the 'Gängeviertel' is also a hideout for the extreme left and for the anti-fascist movement of Hamburg, which is why the residents do not wish to be photographed

You can also find upholstery workshops (see image above), and photography and contemporary dance studios

Hamburg is booming. In the city the glass high-rise buildings are growing like weeds, but the 'Gängeviertel' is resisting, thanks to the art and activism of its residents.

All images by © Nicolas Datiche for OER Tripled, Hamburg 2012

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

STADTLICHH: Two guys, two gals, and their free magazine in Hamburg

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

Who said print was dead? Live from Hamburg, Martin, Valerie, Ulrike and Anne have created their own free city magazine, complete with hard-hitting feature reports, photo art and room for ‘the other’. 20, 000 copies have been released on a quarterly basis since December 2010, says German journalist Jens Wiesner

STADTLICHH: Two guys, two gals, and their free magazine in
Hamburg

Here’s a joke – how can you be late for an appointment for somewhere which is only five minutes away from where you live? It takes another quarter of an hour to get from my stop, Königstraße (‘King’s Street’) to the doorstop of the Glöe bar. In a slight sweat and slightly out of breath, I am finally at the cosy underground coffee shop near Hamburg’s Reeperbahn, where Martin Petersen and Valerie Schäfers are awaiting me, mid-sip of their milky coffees. The thirtysomethings have brought a goodie with them – the latest edition of their baby, Stadtlichh. Even the pile in this cafe has run out, and Martin immediately notes that he should come back to stock more up.

Four brains

As the clock struck midnight on 1 January 2010, you would have found Martin and Valerie still drinking coffee, albeit in more of a contemplative state. An unfulfilled Valerie had just quit her job at a design agency, and Martin wasn’t enjoying his job at a gaming newspaper either. As the caffeine channelled itself through his blood, that huge, nasty, existential question shot through his head once more: what do I actually want to do with my life? Where should it be leading?

Both Martin and Valerie had it: why not create their own magazine? ‘People often find themselves wandering from one point to another in life, so occupied with what they are doing that they don’t ask themselves this important question anymore,’ says Martin. The pair had already written and built websites before. As a communications designer, she was the woman with the eye. He had a masters in English and philosophy, and was the man of the letters. What more did they need? Ulrike and Anne, two friends who were also in a muddle and had that same yearning to do something more personal in that field, ended up completing the puzzle. Team Stadtlichh was ready to go.

Nostalgia for artsy Hamburg

Hamburg at that time was bubbling with a wealth of creativity. Gängeviertel in the city centre was a haven for artists and left-wingers. The old Wilheminian-era houses yielded to the presence of new offices equipped with glass cupboards and desks. Nor did people expect the everyday Hamburg citizen to be happy about the new changes; the local authorities got involved. A few kilometres away, the seventies-era former Karstadt building Frappant has also been taken occupied, in vain. The bulldozers arrived and the artists just had to find some other neighbourhood to go to. There was little to read about the affair in the local press - at least little which went into more depth. People just wanted more information about gentrification, the development of the city, the explosion in rents and the rise in the bohemian, bourgeois character of the area. ‘Something was definitely missing here,’ says Martin, as he takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a good thing that there was no money to do any market research.

Team StadtlicHH |

‘We didn’t want to have a magazine with advertising on every page,’ says Valerie. ‘We wanted the magazine to be of top quality, the issues real page-turners. Large-format print photography, big fonts and illustration are just as important as content.’ Valerie, her eyes full of enthusiasm, refuses to be the type of art director who is ticking boxes in a grid about photos and text blocs at the end of the working day; she wants to be the type who goes along with a journalist when they have interviews. Communication is a huge bond between everyone, and it should be reflected in the article. As for the moola, it costs around 4, 500 euros to release 10, 000 copies of six issues. The team contacted eight potential financers, received five rejections and two no-replies. The solution was to come.

Crowdfunding and foundation help

Every magazine needs a good founding myth – preferable one which rings true. ‘The media foundations were our last chance really – actually they don’t really support any type of print magazine,’ says Martin. On the last day of the call for applications, he posted off his form, making a post box call by night. Much later, a phone call ensued, followed by the popping of a good old bottle of fizz to celebrate the good news. 100 copies of the beta version were launched in August 2012, in a situation which felt like the fœtus was already resembling a baby. ‘We separate any adverts to the left and right of the pages, far from the editorial content,’ explains Martin. ‘We refuse to publish editorial adverts – we don’t want to take the mickey out of our readers, so that’s really important.’

‘We separate adverts to the left and right of the pages, far from the editorial content’

The second edition came about thanks to the use of crowdfunding, and the next five issues are also funded. Since its birth, the baby has grown so fast, that it can already stand on its own two feet. That doesn’t mean that the four musketeers can survive on the magazine alone – they are still working jobs on the side. StadtlicHH is their love child, and they know it won’t bring them that much dough that they could roll around in it. And what about the writers, photographers, editors, illustrators and other contributors? ‘The only job we can afford to pay is acceptance of advertisements - that’s where we get percentages from,’ says Martin, who looks sorry. ‘Unfortunately, we can’t pay them in a better way for the moment.’

Release party for issue number 7 | Stadtlichh is borne out of love, not money

Nonetheless, Martin is bowled over by the fact that the magazine is a hit even if they’re not earning their bread from it – imagine if one day, it did. So why not switch to a more profitable business model? The thought brings new worries to Martin’s head. How would they explain to readers that they would have to start paying for the magazine? Print runs would plummet and advertising would become trickier – then there would be the pricing. Only 50% of the retail price goes back to the editorial side, whilst the other half is split evenly between kiosks and wholesale distributers. The non-conventional format also had to be adapted to be sold in mainstream stores. ‘There are some people, who tell us to grow up and accept the hard reality,’ says Martin. ‘These are people who themselves learnt that it’s easier leaving idealistic ways behind, and to go for more pragmatism (and better paid jobs). But I haven’t lost my spirit yet, and still believe that everything will stay the way it is, in the sense that this is the real magazine that we wanted and dreamed of having.’

Pick up a free copy of Stadtlichh, released quarterly, from selected points in Hamburg. There is an option also to subscribe for home delivery for a small fee

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany; read more on the official blog here

All images: courtesy of © stadtlichh-magazin.de

A Turkish tale of cafebabel.com and borders: an insider/outsider story (part one)

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

I am not a journalist. I sometimes practice journalism, extensively study journalism, and mostly hang out with journalists, but I wouldn’t identify myself one. However, when the cafebabel.com team asked me to join their project briefly this summer, I knew I was embarking on a great adventure, says Burcu Baykurt

It is rather strange to praise a publication to its readers but cafebabel.com is truly one of those gems in European journalism that give you hope and excitement about future because you know networked journalism is not solely a fancy academic jargon, but an exciting experience that you can easily be part of.

Open-minded, curious, and adventurous young people come together and travel to a country that maybe they've never been to before. Thanks to the wide youth network and the internet, they know how to have access the local insights on the topics they cover. Since they bring their foreign and comparing perspective on a topic, they can easily make familiar things strange, strange things familiar in almost anything. They don't have to know the language of the country they're visiting. Their local host can guide them through all time. They also know serendipity is an indispensable part of their job, so mixing and mingling with the local strangers is a delightful job requirement.

Most importantly, it is fun. It is maybe a work trip, but along with all the pleasures of traveling. At least, that was our experience when five British, Belgian, German, French, and Italian journalists visited Istanbul in July 2012. They covered topics from comic culture to women in sports. Being one of their local hosts, I found out so many interesting things about my country through their questions and curiosity. Sometimes it took only five minutes to reach the right people because we knew who they should talk to. Sometimes they met a random Turk on the street and let him or her lead them to a new source or piece of information.

With Italian journalist Maria Teresa Sette in Istanbul

On their last day, the journalists ran into a big political protest and couldn't resist the journalistic itch of covering it, thereby ending up corresponding on a highly underreported political story by a total coincidence. Accompanying them in some of their interviews, I got to meet really wonderful people. After talking with many Turks from highly diverse backgrounds, they ended up discussing their stories and ideas at the hostel every night and collaboratively initiating new ideas. And we had fun, so much fun. Obviously fun included typical yummy raki-meze nights, drinking Efes, and dancing to some Turkish tunes.

Read part II of 'A Turkish tale of cafebabel.com and borders: an insider/outsider story' here

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

In-text image: © Nabeelah Shabbir

Istanbul goes green: politics, scrap dealing, urban gardens (13 images)

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

Take a look at Istanbul and you will see Turkey’s economic development at its fullest. This transforming city of the east breathes in the rhythm of cranes and large-scale construction. Environmentalism, an issue often ignored in times of economic booms, is nevertheless a visible force amidst this development craze. Istanbulites proudly bring up questions on environmental sustainability, an issue intertwined with both politics and activism, finds French photographer Nicolas Datiche

In the Beyoglu neighbourhood, a giant billboard boasts 100% local and natural agriculture

One of the many scrap dealers in Istanbul looks for items to put in his cart, which indirectly makes the city a leader in recycling, according to various NGOs

Yesiller partisi (‘green party’) headquarters in the neighbourhood of Beyoglu. Turkey’s ecology party has a nationwide membership of 400 and has not yet put forward an elected representative

Serkan Köybasi, 32, is a Yesiller partisi member. A Bahcesehir university student, he is working on a thesis on Turkish real-estate construction and would like to follow it up with a thesis on environmentalism in Turkey. He wants to get hands-on experience with the green party and carry out political actions for environmental resistance

Durukan Dudu, 27, is a green activist and Yesiller member from Istanbul. He’s against the construction of a nuclear centre in Turkey and a third bridge being built over the Bosphorus. He refuses to use anything other than a bicycle to get around the city of almost 13 million

On Istiklal, the main avenue in Istanbul’s city centre, a greenpeace activist engages a young Turk in conversation about the construction of a nuclear centre

For six years now, the Bugday NGO has hosted an organic products market in the neighbourhood of Sisli

The Bugday market takes place every Saturday. For six years it has been counting on more and more farmers and producers

A young farmer from northern Turkey proudly wears a Bugday apron, on which the NGO has printed its causes and goals. One of the group’s causes is supporting agricultural companies who wish to harvest products that are in danger of disappearing

Sevgi Mutlu, 32, and Gülizar Yenal, 60, both members of Yeryuzu Dernegi, take a break in the garden. Their organisation aims to encourage the spread of urban gardens by offering classes on permaculture and transforming small, unused places into gardens

Yeryuzu Dernegi gardenis also a collective system of growing and exchanging grains; everybody can grow his or her favorite plant on their private balcony, or publicly in the city garden

The city garden Kuzguncuk (in the Asian part of Istanbul) allows everybody to have access to healthy and organic products

This garden’s main purpose is to promote healthy eating. It is also a place for activism and resistance of urban development. Each resident of the neighbourhood owns a parcel of this garden, openly opposing the real-estate project that seeks to build on this plot of land

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

(Images: © Nicolas Datiche for ‘Orient Express Reporter II’ in Istanbul for cafebabel.com)

Leman, Penguen or Uykusuz: Turkey’s comic books vs. Erdoğan

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Istanbul-Hamburg

Utter the names of these satirical comic magazines in the presence of any Turk and their eyes will light up with recognition. Yet these publications are a serious thorn in the side of the government. Despite tough conditions and government repression, the cartoonists tirelessly put pencil to paper in the name of social critique, says Jens Wiesner (Translation: Marie Jackson)

Erdogan graces a Penguen cover: 'Man I laughed out loud!' (Image: © penguen.com)

‘Two months ago, somebody tried to burn down the Penguen editorial office,’ explains Emre Yavuz. Suddenly I understand; just a day earlier, I had tried to catch a glimpse inside the satirical magazine’s offices without prior appointment - without success. Since the arson attack attack (nobody on-site believes that this was an accident), people in Istanbul understandably feel a little nervous. I won’t face any such problems today; I have an appointment with Yavuz, editor and translator for the satirical magazine Uykusuz (‘Wakeful’), and I’m about to be received at the editorial HQ. ‘We prefer to call Uykusuz a satirical magazine, but really we’re a comic book,’ he says.

Pictured, Emre, a reader of Uykusuz, is proud of the old masters | ‘I was so excited to meet Bülent Arabacioglu and Galip Tekin,’ says Yavuz. ‘I remember their stories reading Gırgır as a child, and now I am publishing their books’

Indeed, a significant number of the stories in the magazine are not told in a single cartoon, but through a series of comic strip episodes. That is not to say that Uykusuz shies away from political controversy in Turkey; nevertheless, it avoids prominent house advertising on the doors of the office. A single logo in the corridor betrays the presence of the 22 in-house cartoonists. This discretion is a precautionary measure against those who express their criticism of the magazine by less peaceful means.

Getting under the Sultan’s skin

Yavuz’s fellow comrades-in-arms have in fact chosen a noble vocation. After all, cartoon criticisms of the Turkish state are a long-standing tradition. Even in the late nineteenth century, the bulky nose of the last sultan, Abdülhamid II, provided easy pickings for derisive cartoonists. His subjects’ jokes displeased the Ottoman leader so much that he quickly forbade the written form of the word ‘nose’. This, of course, gave rise to a whole new wave of caricatures. Despite its earlier popularity, however, the cartoon wouldn’t experience its golden era for another 70 years; the late Oğuz Aral’s cartoon magazine Gırgır (‘Fun’) sold up to 500, 000 copies per week during the seventies and eighties. Aral was also a committed teacher, having taken legions of comic strip enthusiasts under his wing. Sooner or later, many of his fledgling cartoonists flew the nest and founded their own comic books. Today, Leman magazine, Penguen and Uykusuz to name but a few, are household names in Turkey. Even though their content can sometimes raise an eyebrow, few kiosk owners would dare to stop selling these popular magazines. Gırgır was so successful because the magazine provided an outlet for criticism of the Turkish state and society at a time when all political parties were prohibited.

Cenk Könül has worked at Gon comic store for four and a half years | Superman is the hero who got Cenk into comics at the age of six

Yet the military government at the time, which was otherwise heavy-handed when it came to dealing with the opposition, largely let the cartoonists be. ‘They also read Gırgır and laughed at its cartoons,’ asserts Cenk Könül, an employee of Gon, one of the few comic book shops in Istanbul. But those times are now over. ‘Since the justice and development party (AKP) took power (in 2002 - ed), something has changed,’ claims 30-year-old Könül, describing the rising concern of cartoonists everywhere. ‘You can’t just see and hear it, you can feel it.’ Whether they were religious, Kemalist, conservative, left-wing or democrat - where dissidents were previously tolerated, there is an increasing tendency today for people to do all they can to distance themselves from one other. Könül’s older customers have already confirmed as much: ‘They say that the artists used to be gutsier, that they wrote and drew more audacious content.’

Humourless tomcat Erdoğan

Turkish cartoonists fought back and won | Penguen published an entire Erdoğan zoo, whilst the satirical magazine Leman responded with an Erdoğan vegetable garden

One thing is clear. Prime minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan can rival old Sultan Abdülhamid II when it comes to lacking a sense of humour. As early as 2005, the prime minister sued Cumhuriyet magazine caricaturist Musa Kart for his drawings, deemed to be too critical of the government. Kart had drawn Erdoğan as a cat that was helplessly tangled in a ball of wool – a commentary on the pitfalls of government politics. The prime minister, considering that he was being vilified, took the cartoonist to court for libel – and won. Kart had to pay the prime minister 5, 000 Turkish lira (approx. 2, 300 euros). The cartoonists hit back, resulting in a further court summons. This time, though, the courts decided in favour of the cartoonists.

When the magazine Harakiri, the latest addition to Turkey’s roster of satirical cartoon magazines, was served a fine, it was nearly ruined. In summer 2011, the owners had to pay a fine of 150, 000 Turkish lira because their cartoons would supposedly ‘cause the Turkish people to become lazy and adventurist’ and ‘promoted adultery’. At least, that is how the commission for the protection of minors from indecent publications saw things. The government organ recommended henceforth that the magazine be sold in opaque packaging to protect innocent eyes. The Harakiri editorial office continued its work, even though it faced financial ruin, but an entire year passed before it was able to publish a new edition in July 2012. Könül made sure that the new magazine edition was displayed at the very front of his window. In the top-right-hand corner, a short and defiant statement popped out: ‘Poşetten döndük! – Now without packaging!’

Tuncay Akgün is familiar with the gruelling Turkish court process. The clock strikes eleven as the 50-year-old finally arrives at the Leman editorial office. In 1987, Akgün was handed a suspended prison sentence as head of Leman’s forerunner magazine, Limon (‘Lemon’), and the chief editor has already been sued again by the new government for images appearing in Leman. The magazine has had to fork out money twice now, and further proceedings have been stopped once already. In spite of this, Akgün refuses to bow to increasing pressure. ‘We will continue moving forward, just as we did before, and we will continue dealing with matters of society in the magazine,’ he says.

Tuncay Akgün, Leman HQ | (R) Coffee shop on the first floor

This includes the so-called ‘honour killings’, a reference to the stories of Kurds who supposedly commit unspeakable domestic violence against women. This independence does come at a price, however; in order to continue discussing ‘hot topics’, Akgün avoids advertising his magazine and regularly works a Sunday night shift. Despite this, Akgün’s place of work – unlike the editorial offices of many other magazines – is not hidden away; clearly visible from the main high street in the shopping district and accessible to all is the Cafe Leman Kültür, located beneath the magazine’s editorial offices.

Within these walls, decorated all over with comic strips and old Leman editions, all are welcome, from comic book fans and lateral thinkers, to left-wing activists and critics of Erdoğan himself. Here, they can talk together or simply browse their latest comics in peace. But what if some madman also pays a visit here, lighter or goodness knows what else in hand? ‘Ach,’ says Tuncay Akgün, rolling himself a cigarette, ‘didn’t you know? The lord protects small children and comic strip artists!’

*Gon shop, Yeni Çarşı Caddesi 34A, Galatasaray

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Images: main © penguen.com; in-text © Jens Wiesner for ‘Orient Express Reporter Istanbul’ by cafebabel.com, July 2012

Rebuilding urbanised Lyon ‘onto itself’

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

Since the 1990s, after a few dark decades, the city began to reassess itself. With a structure from another time and overflowing tumultuous inner cities, action needed to be taken to bring Lyon into the 21st century with confidence. Between 1970 and 1990, Lyon lost 100, 000 residents, explains French journalist Simon Benichou

Translated by Kait Bolongaro

Image: BMX in Part-Dieu, by the train station

According to wikipedia, the city of Lyon is now ‘on a French and European scale, one of the fastest-growing cities’. One thing is certain: between 1999 and 2009, the metropolitan area gained 100, 000 new residents, 35, 000 alone in Lyon itself. This growth drove the creation of different projects to prepare for the future. In the early 2000s, it became clear that the greater city was too spread out, cars took up too much space, and the gap between the chic west and working-class east was widening.

In order to transform the city and overcome these difficulties, many strategies have been developed. Among them, redesigning the urban centre without continued expansion, developing alternative means of transportation (vélov', tram, bus), creating denser housing along major transportation routes, and preventing Lyon from being divided in two by balancing social housing on both sides. In order to structure this undertaking, different ‘poles’ were created or strengthened.

Confluence

Beneath the edge of rough Lyon Perrache train station, the district of Confluence is being reborn. Until the 2000s, it was home mainly to declining industrial activities. Recently, Raymond Barre and Gérard Collomb initiated a modern project to transform the entire southern tip of the Presqu'Île, surrounded by the Saône and Rhône rivers, an exceptional yet oft-forgotten area in the heart of Lyon. Designed in phases, the project is already at a significant stage of development. Many apartment buildings have been completed and new residents, both owners and tenants with government assistance, have begun to move in.

Determined to be modern, the neighbourhood is far from a standard housing block. Between glass, wood, stone and metal, the buildings are virtually all shapes and sizes with unique structures. Alas, there is a risk of lacking cohesion. However, nature and space stay omnipresent, whether through carefully designed public parks or the famous nautical square, an artificial canal that cuts the southern tip of the Presqu'Île.

Image: Scenes of the Occupation at Lyon Perrache

On one side lie blocks of residences, whilst on the other there is a brand new supermarket which is connected to the rest of the city by tramway and a ferry that goes all the way to the large square that is the Place Bellecour. ‘I am very happy. At first it was a bit deserted but it becomes increasingly lively and businesses continue to open here,’ raves Evelyne, 50. In 2007, she decided to buy a ground floor apartment with her husband. After moving in in 2010, she has been awestruck with the development of the area and quite proud of her status as a pioneer. ‘The neighborhood is very mixed. There are many social housing projects, even more than we expected, but it's still very nice to live here. The transportation is also great, with the tram and ferry along the Saône to the top of the city. They are even going to build a bridge across both the Rhône and the Saône. It will be very easy to leave the city, which is important to me because I like to do things on the weekend.’

Ultimately, Confluence also aims to be an ecological role model. It will be the first sustainable neighbourhood in France to be endorsed by the worldwide fund for nature (WWF). Some of their high goals include ambitious zero-carbon buildings and sustainable materials, waste management, water management, social diversity, shared gardens and biodiversity amongst others.

Multi-polar city

Faced with the encroaching Lyonnais suburbs - urban responsibilities were multiplied by ten in the 1990s - the government has decided to take control of rampant urbanisation. ‘Our target is to restrict urbanisation to 50% of [Lyon's] surface area, meaning that we need to rebuild the city onto itself,’ says Gilles Buna, the deputy mayor who is responsible for city planning and ensuring the city's quality. ‘The other major change is to halt population growth near major transportation routes, and to focus it around train stations and public transit lines. Finally, we chose to build a multi-polar city connected by public transport, either by reinforcing existing central zones such as Part-Dieu (home to the main railway station in Lyon - ed), or by creating new centres like Carré de Soie in Vaulx-en-Velin, the fifth largest suburb of the city, which is today served by both metro and tram.’

In the district of Part-Dieu, Lyon's second largest train station is a visible symbol of aging urbanisation as it undergoes a profound transformation. Just walking around, it is clear that the city's work is cut out for them. Originally designed as a regional business centre, Part-Dieu has everything of the seventies that has very, very badly aged: sad council housing blocks overlook walkways and concrete patios crush a few squares of yellowed grass. In the centre a shopping arcarde with faded signs is not really the ideal place for a Sunday stroll.

Grand Lyon

The AUC, an urban planning firm in Paris, was commissioned by the committee behind Grand Lyon to envision a revitalization plan for the neighborhood to turn it into a contemporary metropolitan hub. Clearly, Part Dieu has untapped potential. At least, this is what François Decoster, urban architect for AUC and designer of the Part Dieu project believes. ‘The idea is to transform the neighbourhood, while recognising its distinct character: an auditorium that looks like a shell, a train station growing in importance due to the Lyon-Turin line, the second largest library in France and an urban mall. This is a business district that is becoming more competitive at the European level but still has objects that remain from another era.’

Image: An example of urbanisation in the district of Confluence

An ambitious project has been born, aiming to reconfigure transportation, diversify housing resources, strengthen cultural offerings and create new public spaces. The idea is to build more offices and homes while transforming the area to make it more attractive for companies and its population. Launched in 2011, the redevelopment of the space around the station is already moving forward. Following the demolition and reconstruction of several sites, the city has created a hanging garden, developed new public spaces and created different sports and cultural facilities. Thanks to its position and dynamism, Lyon is looking more to Europe than any other metropolis in France. In order to consciously address its urban and social issues, Lyon tries to fix itself in a dynamic, unwaveringly modern way. Perhaps it is our turn to adjust our gaze.

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Images: (cc) Quentin Chaumy; Lyon Perrache (cc) mafate69; Confluence (cc) Norteit/ all via Flickr

A Pole in love with the heart-shaped land, Bosnia

Tuesday, October 30 2012 By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

''Bosnia is advertising itself as a heart-shaped land, implying that you are very likely to fall in love with it. All of the expats and tourists I have met in Bosnia over the last twelve months attest that they did. If you ask Bosnians the same question they would most likely say that they are fed up with the reality and don’t see any reason to adore this place, says Artur Krzykowiak

Despite the expensive and often difficult flight connections, foreigners and expats are coming back to Bosnia by the truckload. Bosnians will describe it the worst country in the world: see High Corruption, No Career/ Life Perspectives, Unemployment reaching over 45% and Ever Visible Recent War Wounds. ‘The only quality of this country is the war, but since the war cannot be a quality there is nothing,’ says one friend. So many times Bosnians have told me: ‘You must be crazy if you want to live here.’

Poland to Bosnia

In Bascarsija, the old Turkish part of Sarajevo, there is a water fountain next to Begova Djamija (Central Mosque) with a story: once you drink its water, you will sooner or later visit Bosnia again. I have sipped it myself, but I don’t believe the myth. People who went away during the war or soon after suffered from nostalgia and really wanted to come back. Being somewhere else is nice, but in Bosnia it is nicer. With all the problems, political issues, lack of common sense and other issues it is better to be back in their own country.

You must be a foreigner or live away for a while to see some other qualities than the family values that keeps people here. In a way I shared the same opinion about my own country before I emigrated from Poland. I left my country when I was 20. If anyone asked me then if there was any future in my country I would have had the same blank look and answered the same as most of Bosnians here – no future, no point, no way. After a decade away I realised I was wrong. My life and those of my friends who didn’t emigrate is not better or worse, it is just different. There were opportunities - I just didn’t see any for myself at that time.

How to leave Bosnia

Six months in Bosnia has become fourteen months. I have found so many reasons to stay - bars with a Yugoslavia feel like the Balkan Express, modern trendy places like the bar Opera, great theatre plays that are often cheaper than movie tickets, concerts, amazing rivers where you can go rafting and drink water from, hills that you can climb in 15 minutes to have the most amazing views on the town, hundreds of coffee places that are hidden between tiny streets, Olympic mountains around the corner for great winter sport adventures, and the people who make this city so lively and interesting. Most inspire me; many more became good friends and companions.

I find myself inviting my old friends to visit Bosnia, to be a part of it, to see it before it will change its character and spirit. Bosnia is transforming slowly, becoming more like other European countries day by day. At the moment it’s still one of those few places on earth where you don’t find an English menu in restaurants, an exchange office on every corner or organised tourist groups flooding the streets. But since tourism here is one of the fastest growing in world and the idealistic dream of Bosnia entering the European Union is becoming more realistic, it will have to change. Sceptical Bosnians say it wouldn’t be so quick. ‘I am 60 years old, I cannot wait for change, I have no time my friend, I need the change now, but I know it won’t happen,’ says one taxi driver. This change is not going to be revolution, but it’s already a decent evolution. The slower changes are harder to see, but you don’t need to look far.

For example Skakavac waterfall is one of those places that unless you are in a mountain hiking club, or you been dragged by an expat friend, you will not visit if you are Bosnian. Most foreigners find out by word of mouth. ‘There is nothing out there, and yet this nothingness is all what we needed,’ two friends said. At only a 30 minute bus ride from the city, you have an 8km hike up the mountain.

Half way up is the most bizarre mountain house, a small wooden shed in the middle of nowhere where Dragan the owner and host will serve you coffee, homemade Rakija and the amazing food he cooks himself. All that for the price that is so low you almost puzzled if you got someone else bill instead of yours (Dragan remembers all his guests’ bills, and hardly ever writes them down. Even when there is close to 30 guests he knows who ordered what). But even this small and remote place changed for me within just one year - the trash left around by tourists, more plastic bottles and garbage than last year. The recent add on to Dragan’s nothingness is a swimming pool filled with spring water and with views on beautiful mountains - but a big blue plastic swimming pool it is not raw and authentic anymore. It doesn’t fit into the wild nothingness I knew from a year ago. There is also some new asphalt on the road up to Skakavac - so what is next? A highway, parking places for 100 cars, a souvenir shop and a hotel next to it, just to make it look like anywhere else in the world.

Dragan has seen something that normally expats are better in spotting here - the opportunities. The heart-shaped country has loads of them, but it is a little harder here to spot them. This country will love you as much as you will fall in love with the country. So next time you come here be careful. If you drink water from the fountain in the old town you might come back and stay here for much longer than you ever planned.

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Watching ‘How I Met Your Mother’ in German, in Bosnia

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

Wherever you go in the Bosnian capital you can meet someone speaking in German, be it originally through couch-surfing, via facebook or hanging out by chance in a hip coffee shop or bar. Young former refugees who lived in the European union after the war represent a significant demographic of young Bosnians today, says German journalist Rabea Ottenhues (Translation: Richard Burck)

Dinka, 23, is meeting her classmate at the mall. She studies German at the university in Sarajevo. During the war, she lived in a small Bavarian city; today her German still has a hint of an accent. For her and many others here, speaking German is part of everyday-life. ‘My best friend also lived in Germany so we say words or even whole sentences in German when we talk,’ she says. On the brink of war in 1991, swarms of Bosnians like Dinka fled their homes. Of the 700, 000 who left Bosnia-Herzegovina, 80% found refuge in the European Union, 330, 000 in Germany alone. In 1996 and 1997, a large number of refugees returned home; for most, the repatriation was involuntary. Today, a whole generation of Bosnians live in a country that they did not grow up in.

German culture providers

Fortunately, leaving Germany didn’t mean giving up German television. Amongst others, ProSieben, Kabel1 and RTL are broadcast throughout Bosnia. ‘If I didn’t always watch German television, I’d forget my German,’ says Dinka. Nikolina, who studies political science in Austria, recalls how strange it was the first time she watched the American television series How I Met Your Mother in English, because she had always watched the series in German.

Jasmina and Alica (21), Sarajevo | Jasmina would like to go back to Germany after finishing her degree and work as an interpreter

It’s not just television that makes the German language meaningful. Asima, a 23-year-old architecture student in Sarajevo, had to abandon her Bosnian home with her family to escape the dangers and brutality of war. After overcoming her traumatic experience, the first word she spoke were in German. ‘I feel closer to the German language than Bosnian; my childhood memories are German.’ Unlike this generation of 20- to 30-year-olds who went to school in Germany and were integrated into German society, their parents put the German language behind them. Nikolina adds that those with German-language skills like her sister, who now works at a call centre where she needs to use her German, earn higher salaries. Most workers at these call centres speak German so perfectly that Germans often don’t even know they are Bosnians.

‘People here are like sheep’

When these young educated Bosnians talk about their country, they project a negative outlook for the future. Passiveness, corruption and superficiality define Bosnian society now more than ever. Transparency international‘s 2011 corruption perception index ranks Bosnia at 91 out of 183 nations listed. Bosnia is the fourth to last European nation, directly above Albania. According to its citizens, the situation is not getting any better. ‘I feel closer to the German way of living’, says Dinka. ‘Although the system is irritating, we, Bosnians, don’t do anything about it. I wish we were more like the Germans.’ Halil lived in Freiburg for six years and is now a 21 year-old student at Sarajevo university. He complains that Bosnians ‘are like sheep’ and wishes he could send everyone abroad for some time ‘to show them how others think and live.’ It also frustrates him when people complain but don’t try to help bring about change. Hoping to set an example, Halil and his friends currently run an organisation to help disabled children.

One lasting impact of the conflict is the division between a young generation of Bosnians who grew up abroad and those who have never lived beyond Bosnia’s borders. Most of them have spent years abroad and live in a more globalised environment than older generations. They view their time away from Bosnia as both a blessing and a curse. ‘Living in Germany opened up many new perspectives,’ says Nikolina. ‘I can’t talk to people who insist that Sarajevo is the navel of the world.’ In addition to Stuttgart, the 25 year-old has also lived in Paderborn, Berlin and Graz in Austria. She missed Bosnia, and so is now ’studying abroad’ - at home in Sarajevo.

Despite the high levels of frustration, an emigration wave is very unlikely. A lot of Bosnians find their country too beautiful and their family relationships too close to just turn their backs and leave. Many dream of studying abroad like Halil and Asima, while many others already have studied abroad, like Nikolina and Dinka. But it is clear that they’ll all return home. Abandoning ageing parents is not up for debate. Moreover, Bosnia has many good sides that most have come to realise after spending time abroad. ‘People in other countries aren’t very relaxed,’ says Asima. Meeting for a cup of coffee and having long conversations at any time, night or day, are activities that Bosnians miss while they live abroad. In Austria, Nikolina longs for the spontaneity that exists in Bosnia. ‘Before I came to Austria, I never understood the word stress. Changing your mindset requires more than five years.’ She says she is Bosnian, and always will be.

This article is part of cafebabel.com’s 2011-2012 feature focus on the Balkans, Orient Express Reporter 2, a project co-funded by the European Commission and with the support of Allianz Kulturstiftung. Many thanks to cafebabel Sarajevo; you can join the facebook group here

Images: © Alfredo Chiarappa for ‘Orient Express Reporter II, Sarajevo 2012/ alfredochiarappa.com

Internet, a tool to transform Bosnia’s politics

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Sarajevo to Lyon

‘In Bosnia, they don’t have roads, but they have facebook,’ it was quipped in ‘The Social Network’, the 2010 biopic on the life of Mark Zuckerberg. As simple as this idea may seem, it is also true in a chaotic country with ethnic divisions and a politico-administrative puzzle of countless levels. Yet the internet and social networks could contribute to deep and lasting social development, writes Simon Benichou (Translation: Louise McTavish)

In February 2012, a conference was held at the Kriterion cinema in Sarajevo for the first time in history to discuss political responsibility and new technology. Numerous researchers, journalists and activists not only from the Bosnia region but also from the Arab nations and the USA flocked to the city to discuss the government’s surveillance of its citizens, and the way in which the internet could contribute to the formation of civil movements. Representatives of Bosnian political parties who were invited to explain their use of communication over the internet found themselves under fire from critics. ‘All political parties have facebook, twitter and youtube profiles, but they only use them as new means of publicity. There is no interaction at all with the voters, or any kind of dialogue,’ says Damir Kapidzic, a researcher in political science for the university of Sarajevo. ‘Only two parties have updated their profiles since the elections.’ The problem is also the lack of having a culture of holding discussions and conversations via social networking sites. Internet only really started becoming a part of Bosnian society since somewhere between 2004 and 2007, and with networks developing rapidly, it takes some time for users to make use of its full potential.

From corruption to vote-catching

Ever since the Dayton agreement which created modern Bosnia and Herzegovina today, the political system looks more like a game of strategy for maniacs. There are three bodies all with different statuses, one federation made up of two Bosnian and Croatian districts, one Serbian republic, one neutral district partly run by the united nations and one presidency elected for a term of four years made up of one Serb, one Croat and one Bosniak who take turns to govern for eight months at a time. All of these elements have resulted in relative stability, but haven’t managed to create one united nation. Corruption and vote-catching are both still present in the country, and both hinder its development. A vast majority of voters vote depending on their ethnicity, something which doesn’t really compel the elected government to compromise or take responsibility. ‘Political parties will either tend to one ethnicity, or will be multi-ethnic and populist,’ explains Damir Kapidzic. ‘The newspapers are also linked to one party or ethnic group in particular.’

Tariq Kapetanovic

Since creating a twitter profile, Tariq Kapetanovic doesn’t hesitate to publicly ask ministers about local issues. Sitting in the terrace of his internet café, which is situated in the north-west of the city where apparatchiks used to live under the ruling of Tito, he gives off the impression of being easy-going and a bit of a joker. However, his journey has not been the easiest. He was trapped in Sarajevo during the siege, and had to wait until the end of the war to leave for the USA to study journalism. When he came home, he realised that the diplomas that he earned abroad were worth nothing in Bosnia. ‘I decided to study political science instead, but I didn’t want to start that and then find myself once again becoming a prisoner caught in the vote-catching system. So I decided to open up my own internet café, KA5aN. That way, I can build a life for myself without getting my hands tied.’

Whilst running his own internet café, he has also started blogging about daily life in Sarajevo, and about the impact that politics has made on a local level. Today, he splits his life between the internet café and his job as a PR consultant for social networks, working with brands or new political parties. Whilst he remains optimistic when talking about the development of technology in Sarajevo, Tariq is a lot less about about the world of politics and the corruption that surrounds it. ‘Whether you’re an engineer, an academic or an astronaut, if you aren’t part of a solid network, you are going to find that you are very limited in your choices. Lots of people are unable to find a job for these exact reasons. The road to change will be long because it remains firm in people’s minds.’

Keep on fighting

Different online portals such Klix and Buka do exist, and are mostly visited by young people and depend less on political parties and ethnic groups than TV and the press. Other initiatives could end up influencing the media, like that of Ermin Zatega. For six years, the fair-eyed giant has been conducting studies for the centre for investigative reporting, one of very few totally independent medias. From issues with local corruption to private company ownership of natural resources, no one gets away. However, Ermin does not hide his scepticism on the future of the country. ‘Sometimes I do get flashes of optimism, but not at the moment,’ he says. ‘I feel as though we’re fighting a losing battle against corruption, as a society as a whole, as a journalist and as a person. The only thing we can do is to keep on fighting.’

That is exactly what Zasto ne, an association which takes responsibility for promoting social initiatives using new technologies, does tirelessly. They first became active during the peacemaking movements in the early 2000s, and progressively became a platform for projects that use the internet for campaigning. The organisation operates in a confined space hidden in a neighborhood where the sixties style high rise flats are stacked tightly around small squares of grass yellowed by the July sun. Nothing modern looks like it could have been created here, which Tijana Cveticanin agrees with when she talks about Istinometer, a website that uses fact-checking to expose deliberately contradictory or dishonest comments made by politicians. This site helps Bosnians of all ethnicities to understand different political issues.

What if technology were to have a direct influence on politics? Members of the Bosnian pirate party consider that, ‘for twenty years, Bosnia has remained in a state of ethnic apartheid.’ Based on the models of their European cousins, they want to create a structure that is detached from nationalist influences, and one that puts a stress on the responsibility of each person whilst also creating a shared vision for the country. This is a real paradox for Bosnia, a country where political party’s ideologies are mostly based on the idea of ‘one ethnicity, one leader, one body’. This idea is only in its early stages, but the group is taking its time in order to create a more credible and lasting movement. ‘Even if in general people don’t necessarily understand our approach, they react very positively to the word ‘pirate’. The word may look harmless, but for us it’s the sign that Bosnians are no longer willing to accept the passiveness of the current system, and are demanding an alternative.’

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Images: © Alfredo Chiarappa for ‘Orient Express Reporter II, Sarajevo 2012’ by cafebabel.com/ video (cc) piratskapartijaBA/ youtube

Rappers, politics and Paris

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Zagreb to Paris

The image of the French suburbs or ‘banlieues’ is still bound up with images from the 2005 riots. The ACLEFEU association, which won votes from famous French rappers in a campaign during the May 2012 French presidential elections, is tackling political apathy among young people in the banlieues, says Christiane Lötsch ( Translation: Sarah Hole)

‘Your vote is a weapon. Unload the ammo into the ballot box,’ says the presenter, Nima, as he looks into the camera with a dispassionate expression. He is one of the French celebrities to have followed the call of the ACLEFEU (‘assez le feu’ – ‘put the fire out!’) association and released a video message for young people in the suburbs or ‘banlieue’ all over France. Their slogan is ‘I’m voting for a type of politics I’ve chosen, not one inflicted on me’ (‘Je vote pour une politique choisie et non subie’).

Wealth of imagination

Mohamed Mechmache, who started the campaign, speaks quickly. It’s easy to imagine how he persuaded the artists to share his enthusiasm. ‘The 2012 presidential elections were decisive for the future of our society. They should not take place without votes from the banlieues. Young people in Clichy-sous-Bois (in the eastern suburbs of Paris - ed) feel they have been long forgotten by politicians and completely unrepresented. The question most frequently asked by young people is why they should vote at all.’ The trust young people need - credibility - is something they’ve found in artists, rappers, actors or musicians who can be a mouthpiece for them through their lyrics. Actor Jamel Debbouze, rappers La Fouine, Black Barbie, Jean-Claude Tchicaya or Kamel Le Magicien, slammers Grand Corps Malade, Kamelancien, Wahid and François Durpaire support this cause through their appearances in the aclefeu video clip.

Samba Doucoure, a 24-year-old journalist, collects all the information he can find on French rap on his personal page of the interactive magazine about the banlieues, streetpress.com. His is clearly distinguished by his big white headphones and a bag carrying two loudspeaker boxes. He likes French rap because it’s so varied – the themes may or may not have a political element, the language can be direct or poetic, and it can sound African, classical or even rock. ‘There’s such a wealth of imagination behind the music!’ raves the small, introverted man in the Jardin de Luxembourg. French audiences aren’t yet aware of this variety. Right at the start of the meeting, I admit that the only French rappers I only know are MC Solaar and IAM. Samba laughs. ‘You’re not the only one. Most French people actually only know these two rappers, maybe NTM as well. They were very mediatised in the 1990s but they also paved the way for the rap that came to France from the United States.’

Mafia K’1Fry in Paris’ luxury districts

Once, young people from the French middle class were putting up up posters of MC Solaar and IAM on their bedroom walls. Now it seems that most French people and rap have drifted apart, which is particularly due to continuing segregation in French society, says Samba. The drab banlieues are in one area, and Paris’ luxury districts in another, where the residents wouldn’t have a clue who Oxmo Puccino, Mafia K’1Fry or Médine are. Instead, people latch on to the image of criminal, drug dealing, rapping gangsters, who must be ‘cleaned out with a Kärcher’ from the ‘cités’ or banlieues, as former president Nicolas Sarkozy claimed in the 2006 election campaign.

Rapper Abd al Malik was selected to receive the ‘order of the arts and letters’ in 2008 because he was viewed as a ‘prominent representative of hip hop culture, who supports purposeful and fraternal rap’, according to the then-culture minister Christine Albanel. Assimilation is the magic word. A rapping gangster-cum-assimilated artist who calls for unity of the French nation meets with public approval. However, nobody wants to hear fake election promises. Yet Samba’s alleged involvement in politics may also just be a cheap marketing trick to draw attention to his new record. When politics and art mix too much, there’s the danger that artists can be viewed as representatives of ‘their’ banlieue, their lyrics taken at face value, and artistic freedom ignored.

Rap for civil society

Almamy Kanouté, who makes a guest appearance in the aclefeu video clip, meets me at the station in Antony, a district in the south of Paris. He’s busy greeting every young person hanging out in front of the station by name and with a handshake as he asks after their families. Almamy is a youth worker who believes that rap can encourage young people to engage with politics. ‘Just as a loudspeaker reaches many people at once, artists express complex issues in a much clearer and simpler way.’

Almamy Kanouté | Candidate 2012

Almamy adds that knowing about politics should not be optional for young people. As long as young people feel they can have an impact on their political environment, there’s no danger that they’ll find extremist parties appealing. He says that he returned a spoilt ballot paper at the presidential elections because there weren’t actually any good candidates. ‘It’s just stupid to persuade young people that they should find out about all the candidates, only to discover that none of the candidates really represent their concerns,’ he says. Then again, it’s precisely this situation that can also lead rappers like Zoxea to become increasingly involved in politics. ‘We haven’t had any real politicians in power for thirty years,’ he explains via email. ‘That’s why, at each election, I use my music to draw closer to the candidates who represent us the best. A rapper can pass on his message to young people much more easily in his music – and music makes everything a lot simpler and better, doesn’t it?’

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Metros and catacombs: exploring underground Paris (22 images)

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Zagreb to Paris

Beneath Parisian feet lies a parallel world; exploring it is a veritable back-to-the-future experience. Medieval quarries lead to the ‘metropolitain’ tube network, which was created in 1900, via huge Hausmannian construction sites. Under Napoleon’s rule, mushrooms started to be cultivated in the catacombs, yet it feels like the whole underground has given birth to the real city of light we know and love today: it’s one big hidden mushroom pushing its secrets upwards, but not too far to be revealed, finds French photographer Julien Faure (Translation: Matthew Dykes)

Entering the Paris metro station 'Cité': Inaugurated en 1900, the ‘metropolitan’ transport system of Paris is one of the oldest in the world. Pictured, passengers in the centre of the French capital

En route to the catacombs: On a disused railway line, two ‘cataphiles’ (urban explorers who tour the Paris catacombs) approach an entrance to the ‘unofficial catacombs’ - as opposed to the official ones, which are open to the public

Hidden entrance:The way in is through a narrow hole dug into the concrete. The catacombs reveal ancient quarries, where stone was mined and used in the construction of many buildings in Paris

Labyrinth of caves:Navigating the narrow catacombs is not easy, and exploring them is risky. Those going down for the first time must be accompanied by an experienced guide

Crossroads:In places, the water level can rise up to 80cm. Sometimes, the only way to get around is on all fours. You won’t see any rats down here: the catacombs are completely separate from the sewer system

Fresco: Inspired by Hokusai‘s Japanese prints, ‘the wave’ was painted in the 1980s. It is one of the most famous frescoes in the catacombs, and is regularly restored. The cave where it is situated is known as ‘la Plage’ (the beach), and gets its name from the sandy soil

Cataphile in ‘la Plage’:Wellies, dirty jeans, and overalls are the uniform of most cataphiles. For purists, only a specialised caving suit will do. Their equipment generally consists of food, water, candles, and occasionally a helmet

Meeting other cataphiles:Cataphiles each have their own reasons for pursuing their hobby. Some come to escape the stress of daily life and relax amongst friends, some are fascinated by the history, and some just love to explore. Get-togethers, which attract hundreds of people, are regularly organised

Passing through ‘Capucins’ quarry:Mining in the area probably started in the 12th century. At that time, the quarries were situated on the outskirts of the city. The stone extracted was used in the construction of the Pont Neuf, as well as the Notre Dame cathedral

Entrance to the crypt and underground car park underneath the parvis of Notre-Dame cathedral. Centuries of history are hidden underneath the parvis, or square, in front of the famous monument made famous by Victor Hugo‘s nineteenth century novel for some

Roman ruins:Archaeological crypt beneath Notre-Dame. The ruins of Roman baths, dating from the 4th century, were restored when the car park was built

Cité metro station; not far from Notre-Dame, Cité station links the island or l’île de la Cité to both sides of the river Seine. The station was built in 1910, and is on the ‘purple’ line 4

Writers in Paris: a (fantasy) place to call home

By Nabeelah | Tripled: Zagreb to Paris

Every Saturday at 5pm, the upper floor of the cult Parisian bookshop Shakespeare and Company becomes a meeting point for all of the city’s wandering writers. There, framed by walls of bookcases stuffed with mute heaviness of literary history, forms a rather happy bunch of enthusiasts, the ‘other writers’ group’, writes Petra Novak

Writers in Paris: a (fantasy) place to call home

Some of them will experience their first reading, some are members of the group for years, but all know what to expect – a sharp ear and honest feedback from people devoted to the art of the written word. For seven years, this writing workshop and open circle for creative thinking has been at the heart of the expat writers fellowship in Paris. Organised by British writer David Barnes as an open space for reading and discussion about literature yet to be born, the other writers’ group workshop is as much a support service as it is a community itself today.

‘The Shakespeare and company bookshop has a historical meaning for English-speaking writers, but also it has always been a logistical base for all the expat writers and bohemians,’ explains Alberto Rigettini, an Italian poet writing in English and one of the ‘coaches’ at the other writers’ group. ‘Many young authors who came to create in Paris were temporary living here, and they got to know the scene. For example after David moved to Paris it was his idea to organise writers and writing around the concept of community, and sharing the work with others in the same position.’ Alberto argues that much has changed in the century-old Parisian anglophone literary scene since the other writers’ group and spoken word reading performances started. ‘It grew into a fantastic network here,’ says Helen Cusack O’Keeffe, a Northern Irish novelist and one of the regulars at the workshops and readings. ‘All the people who moved to Paris from other countries have similar reasons to be here. It’s enriching to get in touch with them and their work.’

Strangers in Paris

Paris, a mythical sanctuary for the English speaking writers since the lost generation, still hasn’t lost its attraction. Bruce Sherfield, who runs the other writers’ group every second week, estimates there are 250 solid working English-speaking writers in Paris, and at least a thousand authors passing through around them. Some of the reasons why authors choose to come and create in this city, can be found in the loud presence of great writers’ ghosts, as well in the city’s historical and pop-cultural symbolic fertility.

Hollywood has long been a propaganda machine mythologising writers in Paris | Before Sunset (2004) and Midnight in Paris (2011) both feature male writers in Paris as one of their themes

As they buzz around in search of inspiration, most of the English-speaking authors visit the Shakespeare and company bookshop, whilst a larger number stay to participate in the reading programme. ‘Paris gives you the myth and the infrastructure,’ says Bruce. ‘Lots of writers come here to write about the city, but often that does not work in the end. Maybe they attend our workshop and meetings because they realise that Paris wasn’t giving them the inspiration that they needed. In the end, successful writing needs to be edited and revised; that is something that can happen in a working community rather than inside of a fantasy.’

Gathered in a small stuffy room with a view on Notre Dame, writers from all the corners of the world squeeze the prints of their texts between their moist palms and somewhat impatiently wait to hear what others have prepared. The performing audience is interested in all of the genres, so in a two-hour session, professionals and amateurs present their poems, novel excerpts and drama acts which are later revised. Under the informal motto ‘Everybody is welcome to share, everybody is welcome to contribute’, this group of strangers in Paris* form an incredible atmosphere of familiarity. ‘In Paris, I feel very free,’ says Helen. ‘Most of us feel like proper foreigners here, and there are no expectations of being from anywhere. Writing in Paris is kind of like having a lucky rabbit’s foot in your pocket. There is something tangible here that you know inspired other people. You are inside of a project that is known to show interesting results.’

Why is Paris still a locus point for many anglophone authors’ ‘literary pilgrimage’? ‘Paris is not only a capital of France but a capital of the world,’ says Alberto. ‘Literary history still resonates, but this city is overwritten. The whole myth around Paris is a big scam, or at least a cliche. Bohemia is over here - it is a very expensive city, mostly focused on the past and not on the future. Writers have to work hard to pay off huge rents for small apartments. What could be inspiring in this city is that this blunt experience of living for art is putting us together. To be a stranger makes you connect to others. But yes, many come to this city because they feel the inspiration is promised.’ Even if the promise of Paris is not fulfilled, the other writers’ group still makes one appreciate the possibility of being an author in this city. After all, the open and free space for circulation of thought and creation, and the idea of a better working community did not fade in seven years. So, if you ever find (or lose) yourself in Paris, with a piece of your own literature that you would like to share and explore with others, you know what to do.

Other Writers’ Group, Saturdays at 5pm. *Strangers in Paris is the name of the anthology of poetry and fiction edited by David Barnes and Megan Fernandes with the city of Paris as its unifying thread. Among others there are texts by Helen Cusack O’Keeffe, Alberto Rigettini and David Barnes

In partnership with the Paris-based Franco-German office for journalists (Ofaj), this article is a part of Orient Express Tripled, cafebabel.com’s ‘return journey’ series
of articles with journalists resident in the Balkans, Turkey, France and Germany

Christian and Iva: a day in the life of street performers in Zagreb (19 images)

Thursday, August 23 2012 By ovidiu tataru | Tripled: Zagreb to Paris

Young students and expats: ‘Croatia house of cards without EU’

By ovidiu tataru | Tripled: Zagreb to Paris

Young students and expats: ‘Croatia hou<p></p>se of cards without EU’

(Image: (cc) Pliketi Plok/ flickr/ pliketiplok.com/nedjelja/)

With just a year to go before the Balkan country joins the European union, young Croatians are sceptical about the benefits of membership to their careers

I live here, too

Rent hike

The future is bright

Feminist adventure

Self-confidence

Céline and Valentin: harvesting what one sows

‪Julien, Olivier and three little peas

‪Collective composting with Mathieu and Bastien‬

Four brains

Nostalgia for artsy Hamburg

Crowdfunding and foundation help

Getting under the Sultan’s skin

Humourless tomcat Erdoğan

German culture providers

‘People here are like sheep’

From corruption to vote-catching

Keep on fighting

Wealth of imagination

Mafia K’1Fry in Paris’ luxury districts

Rap for civil society

Strangers in Paris

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