What would YOU change about Georgia?

During the two short weeks of my stay in Georgia, Nata and I have asked this seemingly random question to people from all walks of life and age to gauge the discontent in the wonderful country of Saqartvelo. Except form the points Energy and City Planning (added by me) everything was solely based on Georgian citizens’ opinion and experience. I have collected them here in a short overview to give people a chance to see that they are not alone in their opinions. Change in a democracy can happen if people realise that they are not alone and that their representatives should fight for a brighter future for all.
Please note that I haven’t been able to touch upon subjects such as health, nationalism, economy, or political election campaigns. The list is not complete, and more people (maybe experts) would need be asked what they would want to change.

Education

Schools and educational institutions are in a dire strait. Their quality is horrible, children and adults are not educated well, they are poorly informed about their voice and power. This does not even touch upon trivial lessons like mathematics, science, or languages and the like. We refer purely to the political education. For a healthy democracy to establish itself and grow in power and reach, every citizen needs to be informed about what they can do, what their role is in a democracy and what the servants of the state (i.e. politicians) are supposed to do for the improvement of the country. Also, the education should aim at teaching people how to discuss instead of fighting each other.
Furthermore, teachers have very little respect for their pupils and themselves, for they do not know what their purpose is. If they truly wanted to push their pupils’ interests and knowledge, they would be impartial as to where pupils get their knowledge from – their role is not to be the only teachers, but to help guide the flow of knowledge and fact-check their pupils.
Pupils need more time in between classes to rest, eat and spend their energy instead of rushing from one classroom to another and being punished for not being able to go to the toilet and eat in a 5-minute break. Teachers don’t trust their pupils, believing they will “run off” or go home if allowed to play in the yard during breaks. This should be a huge warning sign to everyone working in the education sector.
Sexual and drug education are not being taught in schools in Georgia. Although these represent an important part of young people’s concerns and interests, education on harmful drugs (and use) as well as procreation and the dangers of unprotected sex are virtually being silenced by the state. Without proper education, the young society is at risk of become depended on drugs and may be exposed to an unnecessarily high risk of STDs and unwanted pregnancy (and, of course, unfulfilling marriage).
While the education is not used to address these problems, overwhelming propaganda campaigns are launched to discredit democratic institutions and create a split between social groups.

Political Institutions

Certain political institutions need to put in place to reduce the risk of abuse of power. They mustn’t be influenceable by political figures. Their role is to observe that all political procedures are respected, and, if there is an abuse, immediate reactions must follow, no matter the political orientation of the observer or he who has done the abuse. It is absolutely necessary to introduce them to the political field.
TV is not an institution and should never be used by one party only to promote their ideas and spread their propaganda, which is sometimes portrayed in a perverse utopian and disillusion way that touches upon the most basic of all human drives. Not only can a TV help awkward couples unwind and get down to action. It can also enlighten people of all creeds and nations to possible solution and inspiring skills and talents.

Power

Anyone who enters the field of politics in Georgia is going to change his or her comportment. They will no longer use public transportation and factually isolate themselves from the common people. The chief reason why people would choose the path of politics is not an altruistic wish to make Georgia a better place for everyone to live in, but purely a reason to establish themselves as powerful and wealthy people. Being in power comes with certain perks, such as modern car and driver, housing in healthy neighbourhoods, relations with business and economically strong players. To reduce the abuse of power, the attractiveness of a political position needs to be curbed.

Culture

Albeit having a Black Sea Arena might at first sight seem like a nifty thing to have, upon closer inspection it will become all too clear that this is simply a trick to cover the lack of political and financial support for culture. The tickets are often very expensive and out of reach for most Georgians, the Arena is barely used at all (5 concerts in 2023). While this Arena is used as a political propaganda flagship by the leading Georgian political party, Qartuli Otsneba, the voice of the opposition is being repressed and discontent continuously ridiculed. Small Georgian musicians and artists are not able to establish themselves nationally and internationally for lack of support, while millions are spent on bands that were famous 10 years ago. A shift in financial aids is imperative for a healthy cultural sphere and an artistic expression of people’s voices.

Employment

At the time of writing, working in Georgia can be both extremely challenging and disappointing for there are very few regulations to prevent abuse and exploitation of the working force by their respective employer. While this could be seen as beneficial for small businesses that would struggle from high spendings on human resources, uneducated and inexperienced workers will never develop an adequate spending power and will forever dwell in poverty. Introducing policies that would require every employer to fix contracts for their employees and guarantee them a minimum salary would be a first step towards a fair marketplace, a new burgeoning social class and a great economic boost.

Military

The Georgian military is reserved primarily for the less-fortunate, not educated and for those most prone to fall for nationalistic propaganda campaigns. Because of the poor mental state of the cadets, orders are not understood well. If the military was aiming at creating a strong defensive force it would have to train educated, able-bodied and able-minded people to be resourceful and efficient. It would, furthermore, need to equip their soldiers with modern weaponry instead of using used, rusty, and worn-out Soviet equipment. Finally, overall fitness of Georgians is questionable, and many would probably not be able to even the lowest requirements for the military service (should they be drafted). Having a healthy population is paramount to creating effective defensive capabilities. It would also serve as a deterrent against potential further Russian expansions.

Nature preservation

The preservation of the extraordinarily beautiful, diverse, and rich nature of Georgia is strictly limited to a few national parks such as Vashlovani or Borjomi. However, the greatest part of the Georgian society is only dimly aware of their environment if at all. In fact, the country is suffering under the weight of trash thrown into ditches next to roads, in rivers, in forests and everywhere imaginable. Though garbage collectors are working regularly and under pitiable conditions, only a fraction of trash is collected. Plastic bags roam the streets, cigarette stumps are ubiquitous. Grazing animals and stray dogs are eating them, and the trash returns to humans in another form. Recycling is but a word. No efforts have been taken to reduce garbage use or recycling. If the government does not address the problems as such, the country is going to be covered in trash, which will have serious effects on tourism and on Georgian citizens’ health. Campaigns that target people’s awareness of their own impact may come in handy.
Industry pollution is another issue. Emissions are being emitted without filters and enter the ecosphere from the air and the water. These are often toxic and have seriously detrimental effects on humans, plants, and animals alike. Standards need to be introduced to save lives.

Mobility & Transportation

Georgia has to transition away from a car-driven economy and transportation to more eco-friendly and efficient means. Living and traveling/commuting in Georgia means being exposed to constant dangers of life. While millions of cars drive at unreasonable speeds on tricky roads without any attention to street rules, pedestrians most often walk on the streets, thus exposing them to drunk drivers, mud, smog and other unpleasantries. Beside the two or three mediocre trains operating in Georgia, almost all transportation in car based. Constant traffic jams, high carbon emissions and a strong dependency on energy imports from Russia and Azerbaijan are the consequence – a consequence Georgian politicians don’t want to address. Stress and a higher mortality are also linked to the Georgian dream that is a stinky and polluting mobility. For the streets of Georgia to calm down and allow for a smoother mobility, steps must be taken. These include blocking roads to cars, allocating a strict parking policy that has every wrong-doer’s car removed, construction of park houses, allowing for safe spaces for pedestrians and cyclists, connecting public transportation hubs. A safe and clean mobility also requires high investments into trains and railways in general, including the metro in Tbilisi and possibly the creation of a tram along the river Mtqvari. The rights of pedestrians must be protected by the police. Ruthless behaviour by car drivers has to be stamped out, awareness about pedestrians have to be raised during driving lessons. Last but not least streets in Georgia need to be renovated and all potholes closed. This primarily concerns people from poorer towns and cities who also do not have the means to have a solid car insurance nor the means to repair their cars.
Precarious roads like the Rikoti Pass are suffering from closures more and more often. The Road and Street Department of the State (should it exist) must solidify the road and keep it clear of huge snow fall, erosion and other naturally occurring hazards.

City planning

Everyone who has ever stepped foot into Didi Dighomi will know what a faulty and inconsistent city planning looks like: chaotic, dirty, uncomfortable, and perilous. Drivers have to be very careful to even get there, as hour-long congestions and missing exists from the main road artery are a permanent concern. Once there, high buildings for a growing population are being built without any respect to the local geography, the population density, mental health, and circulation. As there are no metro stations and few bus lanes, most workers are forced to commute by car, hence taking up more space than they would need to. An acute lack of parking lots causes people to park anywhere they seem fit – no authority seems to pay attention to this. There are barely any, if any at all, pedestrian lanes (trottoirs), which makes moving through the newly built quarter capricious and deadly.
The absolute lack of pedestrian lanes in general in Georgia is a statement of disrespect towards the less wealthy, to those who like to stroll, and the youth, who are not allowed to drive. This is a huge issue all over Georgia and is not limited to the capital.
Seemingly no thought has gone into city construction or urban development in general. Buildings are built anywhere with little regard for the inhabitants. Houses are often not attached to existing sewage lines; they have no access to gas and electricity. Cities grow continuously and in an unrestrained manner. To curb tumorous towns, a virtual grid must be established which defines where and how can be built in certain locations. For this reason, town halls need to employ more people and digitalisation must step forward.
Cities should also employ water evacuation systems that allow for the surplus of rainwater and a safe passage of water into the rivers. Water purification plants also need to be built along the rivers of Georgia to preserve the hydro eco system and provide with fresh fish for locals.

Agriculture

Farmers are unable to sell their produce in Georgia, as competing producers from abroad produce cheaper than Georgian farmers (meat is being imported from Brazil, many vegetables come from Türkiye). Not only does this result in a massive rural evasion and an unhealthy inflow of uneducated country folk into urban areas (hence destabilising both cities and villages), but it also means that the general quality of produce drops immensely. Controls on the safety of imported produce may be lower than controls on locally grown produce made with Georgian standards.
Farmers should be incentivised to stay in their hometowns, earn more for their hard work and have safe spaces in the city where they can offer their produce to people. The difference in taste and colour tells a tale of difference in quality and Georgian citizen should listen to the story. After all, Georgians have suckled on beans grown in Georgia during the hardest time of their existence. What if this resource is suddenly not available anymore?

Energy

Energy-wise the country of Georgia depends chiefly on imports of natural gas, petroleum, and other fossil fuels from its autocratic neighbours. As we have seen the budget of the military powers of Azerbaijan and Russia rely on exports of fossil fuels. In order to reduce the risks of further escalations and loss of territory of Georgia, spendings on fossil fuels must drop significantly. Investments into clean energy is essential for a peaceful future. Becoming energy independent would signify a decrease in military projection of Georgia’s neighbours and an increase of the Georgian national budget, which is turn can be spend on their own defence capabilities.
80% of its electricity needs are covered thanks to their richness in water and the possibility to erect dams. However, due to climate change and uncontrolled grazing of cattle, as well as an inefficient heating of towns with wood, improper ways will sooner or later translate into the premature melting of glaciers and a drop in water availability. The switch to clean energies such as solar or wind power – both of which are widely available in Georgia – could result in many positive outcomes: energy sufficiency, cleaner power, reduced dependency on energy imports, democratisation through community-led solar power plants, boost of the local economy, and many more.

Orientation

East? West? Or rather North? Why not try South?
Georgian politics focus on providing its citizen with unrealistic, perverse, and utopic ideas of what the future of Georgia looks like, without offering actual relief for the poor and those in need. It also doesn’t boost business-minded people, as your success largely relies on contacts within the government or your political orientation.
Georgia has had their golden ages, and it seems like these days lay in the past and cannot be rekindled. Which is deceptive, as the past offers important figures like Queen Tamar or Davit the Builder who have pushed the kingdoms through innovation, calculated thinking, gender-equality, and breakdowns of corruption and nepotism.
Georgia does not need to look East or West and try to wedge itself somewhere between two equally disastrous powers, but rather find its own way, that suits its intentions and culture. Therefore, it is most important for Georgian citizen to remember what they strive for: A strong culture, a beautiful nature and hospitable people living in their homelands where they can preserve their way of living and being. I believe that by implementing the above-mentioned points and some more that I haven’t been able to research in the last 2 weeks, Georgia may soon find itself in a position of power, where its people can breathe clean air, stay the beautiful people that they have always been and decide in unity what the next course of action should be. Georgia can be a beacon of hope and democracy in a rapidly evolving world. The earlier people realise their potential, the sooner they can leave behind the weighty past and look forward again.

And don’t forget: Violence is not an opinion, nor is it a sign of democracy and understanding of different point of views. Violence used by the state is inherently wrong and is but a projection of politicians’ inability to tackle a problem in a civilised way.

Paris: What’s the fuzz all about?

The rats?

Ha, we didn’t even spot a single one. They are probably all hiding underground in the metro or warming their tails at a homeless person’s barrel fire. Rats don’t seem to appreciate the cold and windy Parisian winter days though the sun may be shining.

One could call it a truly unique phenomenon. It happens mostly when the axial tilt of the earth hits a certain angle and all heat appears to be vanishing from the Northern hemisphere (my place of origin by the way). About that very same time Putin’s Special Defence Forces send their Marshall Snow to haunt European homes and punch the peaceful Westerners’ wallets with their entire icy might. They have hardly recovered from last year’s attempts on their lives and now they are again strained to the brink of their existence. There is a clear correlence between dropping temperatures, the approach of Christmas and the all-out unfolding of the capitalist terror.
Normal people would refer to it as “Winter”.
Long story short, Nata and I traveled to a famous French city called Paris on a surprisingly hot winter evening just after dusk (at about 5pm). A friendly French guy with an astonishingly good level of English gave us a ride in his car that smelled of gasoline. He tried to fill up his reserve tank and spilled some into the inside of the trunk. To mitigate this smell, we rolled down the windows whenever we rolled at a speed lower than 90 km/h (that’s about 56 Freedom/Hamburger). While almost asphyxiating for the better portion of 5 hours and trying to find an acceptably comfotable balance between the cold and the smell of Horizon Zero Dawn after the explosion, we had some lively discussions. Blabla.car remains a recommended means of traveling.

Once in Paris, a grey and hasty world awaited. An inumerable number of swift cars were rushing to and fro on all sides. It became all to clear that we had reached the busy rush-hour of a metropolis. My first instinct was to think about empty promises of a car-free city dominated by bicycles (and rats) that we so often saw on the media. Instead, we found a rushing place that smelled of diesel – out of the frying pan and into the volcano…. Then Nata and I parted ways – she went to stay at her cousin’s, I went to join my Eesti connection whom I had met many eons ago in Georgia. We shared a few glasses of honey liquor in her above-average-sized Parisian flat. Good night!

Intro done. Lettuce get down to business.

The last time I was in Paris I had a positively dreadful time. Always rushing, never truly enjoying its rich history, diversity, splendour and charm. I have had my share of the Japanese “Paris Syndrome”, I had been severly let down and depressed. This was to change this time.

Though, of course, the city has some nice sides, is has more uncomfortable ones in store. I’m talking about social inequalities that has people living in segregation according to their income and ethnicity. If you look underneath any bridge in the city, you will be able to spot grapes of homeless people who will regularly be moved by the police, so that they may never again feel like they have a save spot to return to. I’m talking about the sheer enormity and density of the city that can become overwhelming and, I believe, dangerous during “canicules”, the heat-waves, that are bound to strike European heartland more often in the following decades. The relatively sparsity of green areas and trees in general are a factor that play into a feeling of disconnectivity with nature, and is dislikeable. Paranoia has also struck the city: The monument most known by the world for its solid metals looks and its partiularly striking airiness – it’s mostly made from air that hovers in between the large cast iron beams – has been fenced in and standing underneath it (!) will cost you dearly. It also troubles my heart to see so few a solar panel on the dreamy rooftops of the city…

In a way, Paris is indeed the impersonation of France. There’s huge social inequalities, problems with immigrants, environmental concerns, an arrogant loftiness and an almost fanatical dependence on nuclear power (this is slowing shifting to truly renewable energies).

I feel disinclined to continue writing the blog post in such a demeaning way. I’m no Parisian landlord after all. I am not going to exhort my dear and wonderful readers by charging them 1000€ /month to visit a single blog post. Quite on the contraire! It’s all for free! And you can leisurly stray these pages as you see fit. Or back off and find your inspirations somewhere else. However, if you have a minute to spare, have a look at the following points, that I am yet to discuss:

• Croissants
• Stealing bikes
• Museums
• Sub-culture
• Other very surprising and humane things

Croissants

This absolute legend of an Italian blogger made the test. He traveled all the way to Paris to check the best croissants of the city… when suddenly he was introduced to the French national hobby fierce strikes linked to the assassination of a minor(ity) driver by the French state thugs. This was a though thing to do, given the reputation of the country of “a place that you drive through to get to Italy” (Top Gear) and a torn stomach from too much butter.

I tried a similar experience, but far less guided and with less obesity involved. In the end I can say that the experience was wonderful and some croissants were seductively tasty, while other boulangeries could learn a lot from Luxembourgish bakers.

Stealing Bikes

Thanks to the progressive and innovative nature of the major of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, the city has planned a few improvements that already mean and will mean positive implications for the future. Not only has she pledged to clean the Seine river for the 2024 Olympic games in Paris, but has constructed long distances of bicycles lanes, plans on banning heavy SUVs (an absolute atrocious climate catastrophe and acompletely uneccessary luxury good) and generally wants to turn the city greener.

How does she want to realise all of these ambitious plans? By turning to the people of Paris! A referendum for instance shall decide whether Parisians want to allow SUVs on their roads. Or by providing free subscriptions for city bikes (durations over 30min will be charged though). Many thousands of recommendations and propositions have flooded into her office, that shall help rethinking the city with regard to social, democratic and environmental challenges. A text-book socialist.

Technically, I didn’t have to steal the bike. It could have used it for free to discover the streets of Paris. But I ran out of mobile data before I could register. As I checked the bicycles, I noticed that one of them was loose, not attached to the station. So I took it, despite it having no functional gear and barely any braking capabilities. Due to some misunderstanding or miscommunication, the museum where Nata and I wanted to meet was significantly farther away. Instead of riding 15min to the Musée d’Orsay, I cycled well over 45min in my Soviet-made blue, woolen overcoat on a bike with no gears. I arrived drenched in sweat and I had lost a borrowed scarf.

Thanks Charles for this pic ❤

Museums

Paris has got all kinds of museum. There’s the world-famous ones such as the Louvre or the Centre Pompidou, however, there’s a further million or so lesser-known museum and they are all jewels in their own right. We didn’t spent much time in museums, surrounded by old stuff and things that may or may not have belonged to a former colony, because we had much to see in general. One museum I would have like to see was the Baltic Amber Museum. How cool is that? (we didn’t it visit it. If you did, please write me in the comments)

Sub-Culture

As I’ve already mentioned before Paris is no homogenous city. It’s divided into districts, called arrondissements. For an outsider the structure of the city can be confusing as it doesn’t follow an easily recognisable pattern. It rather follows a historical growth. It started as a fortified settlement on one of the Seine islands, then grew in a snake-shaped, circular pattern as it expanded onto the surrounding hills. The farther you get away from the center of the city, the more discernible social inequalities get. While the 16th arrondissement is a posh and unholy place, the 13th is more French, whereas the 18th is where all the former colonised peoples are lodged. You can also find a wonderful Georgian restaurant there called Colchide.
I stay in the 13th and found it really homely and agreeable. Plus its walls were covered in political dissent, art, personality. Here’s a few pics:

Aliyev is an assassin.

Fine, I saw ONE rat.

Game idea: Everytime you see the anarchy sign, take a shot.

Nett hier, aber waren Sie schon mal in Baden-Württemberg?

Other very surprising and humane things

Free drinkeable tap water! Everywhere. Guaranteed for free. You don’t even need to ask for it.
I know, for some this may not seem like a big thing – in Italy you get a free glass of water for every espresso you order – but I live in a filthy rich country, where capitalism has reduced the most basic of all human needs to nothing more than a potential source of income. It might not be much, but it somewhat restores my hope in humanity, especially as Nestlé has totally dried up city of Vittel’s springs and groundwater.

Cheaper bread, because 1 day old.

Cheerio, that’s all for now. If you haven’t been there, go on and visit the city for a few days, have a stroll, steal a bike and visit some museum. That’s why you want to go there anyway. However, in case you try to have a romantic moment with your significant other half, better go to Estonia in the middle of winter. It can offer you so much more in terms of privacy and the alcohol excesses that you crave.

2022. What? It’s already over!?

The snow storm is beating violently against my windows. They are already completely covered in snow, no light escapes my room anymore. The doors open arduously and the windows stay shut. Fresh air would be fine, but not at the price of a severe drop in temperature and a puddle of water in the middle of the room. What next you may ask? Wait for the blizzard to be over to go to the store and grab a cold one in attendance of the boys?
Well, there is a chance that they will never get through the walls of frozen water. They might just get stuck and will be force to nag each other`s dying feet while waiting for a change in atmospheric pressure or help to –

come34qw

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Excuse this gibberish. In a futile attempt to express its creative and communicative self to its distinguished feeders, the house cat decided to climb over my keyboard. It`s clearly lacking some finer coordination to properly use the keyboard. Don’t mind her too much.

Maybe you would like to hear a short overview of what happened this year? Some of it you may have already read in previous blog articles (about my time in Georgia and Türkiye), but what happened afterwards? Do you care to know how I ended up in yet another snowy and cold place?

Well, regarding all the shit that went down this year, starting from a large-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the re-election of both Winnie the Pooh in China and ultra-right-winged Netanhayu in Israel, the crack-down of peacefully protesting ladies in Iran and everything in between, it’s seems vain of me to try and profile myself and my life. I will content myself with sharing some travel pictures at the end of the article. Scroll down for the slide show 😉

I was on a Erasmus+ project in Türkiye, in Antalya, where, after very conflicting and ambiguous instructions given to us, we had some audio-visual and entertaining learning material at the ready to present it to local schools in Antalya. The aim was to show them a way how they could fully independently teach themselves some values and skills. It was the 24th of February. While we were riding on the bus, I got the news of the massed assault on Kyiv, the near complete destruction of Ukrainian air defenses. I was in schock. All of this half-assed PR trick – going to schools to present our work and taking pictures of it – felt ridiculous. Even more than before. With this “Special Operation”, as the fascists liked to call it, I felt personally attacked. I had studied Russian for 5 years, visited Russia and had lived among them. And suddenly this important and plentiful phase in my life tasted bitter, trampled on, ruinous. An era of nebulosity had commenced, that had gradually scattered during summer as the Ukrainian army made some greater breakthroughs. Also, for once I felt the ubiquitous European unity that politicans loved to use, but never fully managed to convey to a wider public.
I’m still on very good terms with my Russian, Ukrainian and Belorussian friends. They have all distanced themselves even more from Russian politics.

So, dear readers, Ukraine is officially European, not Russian. It certainly is not a “brother nation” of Russia. It seekes it alliances elsewhere, somewhere where it had not been belittled and its sovereignity not mistreated for a century and more (it certainly has been by the major powers of WWI and WWII, but they have given up on their claims on Ukrainian soil. Save Hungary and its Victator Orban…)

Now I live in Tallinn, Estonia. A country that had been subjected by the Soviets for a long time too and had suffered a similar fate as Ukraine (no Holodomor though). The anti-Russian sentiment is enormous too here, there’s no denying it, no embellishing of this fact. It’s deeply rooted in everyone’s mind, ranging all the way from the former Soviet citizens to the young and educated. I’m working for the German-Baltic Chamber of Commerce, the AHK, and have a lot of time to follow the news, which has become one of my most important drives during this winter. I get to follow all the inequalities, the hate and disasters, the massive rearmement, the wars and troubles that entail death and suffering – all while pretending to be working for the company.
2023 will hopefully show some light.

Surely, it is not my intention to paint the devil on everything. I greatly enjoyed reading about COP27 in Egypt, though little yielding as it may be, it sent another important message to the world. Especially since some activists were rather aggressive and were confronting the global destroyers of the environment. I hope that their feeling of unassailability fades! Plus there is so much good worth fighting for and people and leaders have taken steps to tackle some problems. I was surprised by the US, by Joe Biden and his unquestionable support for Ukraine, and by Brasil that they are were so braindead as to vote for Bolsonaro again. We have grown closer yet again. Many of us.

Well, let’s get to the fun part.

Itinerary of 2022. Starting from snowy Kutaisi, I crawled through Türkiye, skipping the Balkans, sojourning in Luxembourg, traveling through Eastern Europe and finally starting work in Tallinn, Estonia.

Pictures taken in 7 countries. Can you guess which ones?
This part is dedicated to my friends. It’s hard to include all of you beautiful people, please, don’t feel offended if you don’t find yourself here.

This here below is an extract from the projects that I joined or have undertaken myself. They include setting up a stop-motion film set in a hotel in Antalya, doing my Scuba diving lessons, living in Georgia and surviving Corona-related boredom by drawing portraits and doing a more or less sucessful short film in Detmold. And there was another film made in Türkiye. Here’s the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrQRCruEOeY&ab_channel=ISFFDetmold

I furthermore manage to write a book while in Georgia!! The year has not been to bad.

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The road to happiness is paved with many a difficult obstacle. It’s a deliberate choice to walk it, to suffer on the way and perchance to find a destination. But, goaddamn, it’s still better than working 40 meaningless hours a week!

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Okay, now to the final words to conclude all of this.
2022 was a challenging year for many, including myself. It has also been a year of opportunities and of realisations. It may have paved my way for the future, thanks to many supporting and beloveth friends and for all those people that popped up and showed me an alternative path or brought some brightness into dark days, when all lights seemed to have faded. Somehow I know what lays ahead of me now, and though I don’t know where to my feet will guide me, it’s gonna be a meaningful passage through the world and time.
So, here’s to some wisdom: Choose a meaningful path – it’s up to you and only you to decide what brings you meaning-, stay true to yourself, choose happiness. And most importantly: Choose life.

Between Eastern Greece and Western Armenia

Alternative title: How to get yourself cancelled in Turkey

First, let me begin with a few words from my sponsor: I haven’t got one. Please, I am young and I need the money! It’s very welcome.
Cheers.

Second, I don’t want to tell you a chronological recount of every place we visited. I’d rather content myself with telling you my opinion, of retelling you the view of the local population and of giving you a broad overview.

Judging by the title you may be able to guess where I was this time. I stayed in a very ancient land, one that may be called the cradle of complex human civilisation and one that harboured a great many cultures and religions, starting from whatever people believed in at Göbeklitepe and the surrounding archeological sites to today’s love for techno. You will find traces of everything in between and they are all randomly placed all over Anatolian. In fact, almost every touristic spot was built by Romans, Byzantine (Eastern Rome), the Greek, Stoneage people, Armenians or Tsarist (pre-Soviet) Russians. Now, why did I fail to mention Turkey in this enumeration? The reason could be attributed to the fact that Turkey has extremely little to offer in terms of genuine and picturesque Turkish buildings. Apart from a few bridges and countless mosques – some of which are wonderful to look at – Turkish architecture is limited to concrete. To cities made of concrete. Wonderfully fertile, fresh soil covered in murderous concrete. There’s, of course, a well-founded reason for this brutalism, but I will get to it in a bit. Let me first conclude this part by saying that Anatolia is filled with stuff from the past.

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I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting Valentin, the French teacher, fellow writer, poet, traveler, dear friend, back in Georgia and convince him to join me on this trip. For the first time I’d spent a trip of a month with the same person. We set off in Batumi from where we followed a somewhat planned traveling route. The plan was to hitchhike as much as possible, visit a few well-situated places and stop every five days, so that he could give his French lessons online and uninterrupted. His companionship was a reassurance to me and me to him. During difficult times (mostly caused by a failure to stop a ride), we’d supported each other, read to each other or occupy our minds during endless hours of raising our thumbs in vain. I gave him reassurance by having a functional credit card and the availability of money. Curiously enough, just before our departure to Turkey, he gained 900 Lari in a casino in Batumi and got his credit card hacked at the same time. God gives and God takes, it’s a perpetual up-and-down-situation with this dude…

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  Crossing the border to Turkey. For Valentin it’s a goodbye forever.

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  Better off in Mardin.

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  Hard at work.

Luckily that senior, possibly bearded guy up in the sky gave us the ability to think and come up with a nice travel itinerary and he bestowed our ancestors with a similar ability, which caused them to create some interesting places along the way. Here’s our itinerary:

Batumi, Erzurum, Kars, Ani, Dogubayazit, Vaaaaan, Mardin, Urfa, Nemrut, Antep, Kapadokya, Konya, Antalya, Fethiye, Rhodos, Fethiye, Kabak, Luxembourg. I did not visit all the marked spots on the map.

God… right, God! Or Allah. Let’s return to his fellow for a minute. It’s pretty much the same idea and probably as old as mankind itself. A higher power of some sort. A representation of a superiority that connects everything we can and cannot perceive. Comes in different shapes too! There are the fancies deities, for instance Cthulhu, the tentacle God of destruction, or the giant turtle that hatched the world. There’s also the pagan god figures such as the ones in Göbeklitepe, that had been created to give life, death, the world and everything else reason. At some point humans lost much of their creativity and agreed on believing in only one person (let us simply blame Tik-Tok for this evolution). The magical, mysterious and frightening supernatural power may have changed, but the questions remain unanswered. Anyhow, some countries like Turkey are Muslim and there’s no doubt of this in Western Armenia (Eastern Anatolia). Ramadan is being celebrated and life adjusts to it in a most radical way: All restaurants are closed until the break of the fast, the Iftar, and the overall movement around the cities is slowed down just to come to a complete stand-still during the break. It becomes magically quiet. The silence in the cities because total, as every dehydrated and famished person rushes home to eat and drink and smoke a cigarette. No soul is seen outside. Then, within 15 minutes all is over and the streets are overflowing with happy people. The withered, yellow faces suddenly took back their normal texture and colour and night becomes day. Religion clearly takes a major role in people’s lives, even though it remains a choice of adhering to it – many girls refuse to wear the hijab for instance. Here I might add that the Islam is also being used as a political tool to keep people quiet, proud and dumb, but that would go beyond my competencies.

In general everyone we talked to in Turkey has a propensity to being in strong disagreement with the politics. The Kurds feel discriminated and left out of the political equation, the youth wants to go abroad and experience freedom and excitement, old people become nostalgic about Atatürk; all of them suffer from the dramatic inflation, from corruption, repression, a rotten education and a apprehension of lurking terror. To give you an example: the average income in Turkey is about 5000 Lira a month, which is already 16 times less than Euro. In Luxembourg there are not too few people (though by far not the majority) who earn this sum in Euro. Even if local prices were equal, the Turkish population would still earn a fraction of what a somewhat wealthy person earns in Lux. The price gap is enormous as well: not taking into consideration that alcoholic beverages are taxed heavily, a beer in a typical bar costs 35 to 40 Lira. I’d like to see you pay 40 Euro for a refreshing, fermented hop juice!

Moving on to transportation. I have been incredibly spoilt by the Armenian hospitality. Coming to this wonderful country where hitchhiking is always the fastest way of getting around, Turkey felt like the angry voice of a long-forgotten teacher, interrupting your reveries. We waited, frustrated. We stood at the road side, ready for any car. And we waited some more. In the meantime, Valentin would read me some Bukowski poems, while I tried to remember Turkish swear words. And then we waited a little bit more. Before Erzurum, this was especially true. And when someone did eventually stop for us – a ride in the cow wagon – the driver expected us to pay the preposterous sum of 500 Lira per person!! We played it cool, as we already knew he would not kidnap us and simply waited for him to stop and kick us out.
For most of the remaining time in Turkey we traveled by bus, which are fairly decent.
We once tried to take a train. Bought a ticket and everything online and felt prepared for the first time. However, when we got to the bloody train station, the ticket office worker plainly told us it’d run in four hours late. Fair enough, we thought, we’ll try taking a bus instead. But there was no more bus, they told us. We resorted to our last way of leaving: hitchhiking. A bus stopped for us and we left.

Anatolia is a densely populated place, especially the cities. A demographic explosion is taking place, coupled with a firm immigration that forces the Turkish government to erect apartment buildings in great number and without much concern for the environment. At first this was surprising, but then you hear countless stories of families having 10 or 11 children. I always feel a little reluctant to congratulate them on their successful love life and would rather be inclined to ask them if they haven’t heard of preservatives. Upon first hearing of this birthrate, I understood the beggarly children in the streets, kids squatting in dumpsters, the vast number of young gangs, the vastly impoverished families and the lack in perspective for the younger generation. They are nice though and were all keen on talking to foreigners in their quasi-nonexistent English. Discussion would start in the usual manner:

-Hello! Where are you from?”

– Luxembourg, I’d answer, knowingly saying this in an English accent.

Silence. It is virtually impossible for anyone to understand this. Usually I don’t let the awkward silence build up for too long. After a second of confused looks I’d add:

– Lüksemburg, the Turkish way of saying it, which one in one thousand may have heard of.

This is pretty much as far as our conversations would go. In an attempt to cover their inability to speak in a foreign language, the children would then bombard me with a million question in Turkish to which I would reply that I didn’t speak the language.
Great talks.
Communication in general was rather problematic, since almost nobody spoke anyother

The climate is harsh for most of the eastern part of the country. Snuggly situated between the mountains in the south and north and the western Caucasus mountains, no wind would carry humid airs from the seas, leaving an insupportable radiation from the sun lick the surface without any opposition. Valentin and I had to wear winter clothes for the first part of the journey until we reached Mardin in northern reaches of Mesopotamia. Things got a little better from there on. The sudden appearance of the vast, blue sea broke our equanimity to the beauty of the lands, which you will face sooner or later after having traveled for a longer period of time. The heat was hot and air was filled with a thousand sounds. Antalya came as a relief. We had left the drawn-out winter behind the vast Taurus mountain range and a renewed flow of energy swelled in our hearts.

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Long story short, I had left one face of Turkey behind and entered another one. Valetin’s and my path split. Farewell, once you’ve survived the “infernal anthill” that is Istanbul you shall discover all of Kazakhstan! Thanks for the nice formulation too.

Once parted, I changed my travel plans, due to knee pain. Instead of continuing my travels for the remainder of summer, I rescheduled and resolved to return home after visiting a dear friend in Rhodos and participating in the “Get your own Picture” youth exchange in the heavenly Kabak Valley, at Yerdeniz camp (we shot some amazing short films). Both of them included getting back in touch with many Europeans at the same time and always involved alcohol. Everyone is a social drinker it appears. Tough if one has left this society just long enough to see the benefits of being sober. All this drunk talk, the urge to impress and the flat-lustrous, lewd and hazy faces have become somewhat repugnant to me. It’s a psychological burden to carry when one refuses to relapse into old and bad habits, but is constantly surrounded by drunkards. A reduction in alc consumption should be considered by everyone, especially in regards to the elevated effectivity, when administered eventually.

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  Joining the drunk crew for one crazy night

One last note to end the blog entry: I only scratched the surface of my impressions; I accumulated a fair amount of knowledge and information (emotional, culinary and dry data) and choose to share only a very limited with you, whoever reads this. It wasn’t all sunshine, not all dark. I deliberately tried not to do cherry-picking as it is not my style. Therefore, I’d like to dedicate these last lines to the ambiguity I feel towards Turkey. It’s a fascinating country full of miraculously beautiful sites, littered with interesting people, contemplations about life and death and the universe, various food, breathtaking views, great distances, extremes, sadness and happiness, disturbing views on sexuality and much more. However, much of it has been built on conquest and turbulences. Many historical sites were erected by the victims of history, but little credit is given to them, hence the controversial title.
Before I conclude with a series of randomly chosen pictures, here’s a song that followed me throughout our journey through Eastern Turkey:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeQQpLembyk&ab_channel=SerjTankian-Topic

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A memorandum to Georgia

Please not that the following lines are highly personal and that they may or may not represent the whole truth. However, they do represent a truth, my truth. A truth that had partially been written during the onset of a bacterial illness and in the cold and dark month of February.

First of all, I believe a short introduction would be necessary. Some wider context is needed for you, the reader, to understand where I am and what is going on. After my frustrating months in Central Asia, may they be as instructive as they have been, I decided to head back to Georgia to visit my friends, following an emotional sickness, eat food without meat and possibly find a job here. I had taken matters into my own hand, had freed myself of most of my worldly possessions and had set my mind on trying something new for myself. It turned out to be more difficult than anticipated.

But let’s not dive too deep into these organizational matters, for they are quite boring and serve no greater purpose. It suffices to say that I moved to Kutaisi, following my intuition and the advice of a foreign friend who has settled here and seemingly adores the city. Right from the start I got in touch with a young local couple owning a teaching-center, start-up palace and who asked me straight-away if I wanted to give English lessons. I agreed. Two or three month passed without any greater evolution of my working and overall situation. I have a flat by myself, yet no one to share it with. I had the outlook for acquiring a teaching position with no fixed program, allowing me to freely teach as I see fit. I have some financial reserves and no immediate pressure to actively seek employment. I did watch a few extraordinary films, all-time classics and some that are advisable for all to watch. I read a few books.

Almost every book is based on violence. Luckily the English teaching one is peaceful.

View from my former flat.

The months passed. I witnessed the Georgian parliamentary elections. I saw the former president Mikhail Saakashvili return from his Ukrainian exile (just in time, I’d say). Misha returned and so did the snow in Rustavi. I experienced public transportation in Georgia. I followed Georgian news on the war in Ukraine. I observed the everyday Georgian life, the routine. I mused about the fascinatingly slowness at which everything and everybody moved, not taking into consideration the drunk drivers all over this country, who cannot wait to die in a tragic accident. And all the suicidal Glovo bikes who face the traffic jams of Tbilisi with a stern fanaticism, proudly carrying the banner of exploition into their glorious death. Banzai!

I remember Georgia from seven years ago, when I fresh came from high school into this promising Caucasian state that was still forgotten by most of the world. The overall infrastructure and life standards seemed to be increasing slowly but steadily. People were friendly, hospitable, exceedingly interested in meeting and talking to European strangers.

Of course, I am aware that my situation was an altogether different one. I may have had this veil of naivety, which shielded of a great number of uncomfortable truths, Well, it has been lifted. I see things clearly now. And I am bitterly disappointed.

I will satisfy myself with only one concrete example: politics. You think that politics are boring? Especially this dull process of going to the voting booth and give your voice to somebody? Fear not, in Georgia it pays off! Upon voting for the right party, the Qartuli Otsneba, in short Qotsi (note that this is awfully close to the German words “kotzen”, which means to throw up) you will receive 20 Lari and/or a sack of delicious potatoes. Yes, you may suffer from four years of hardship and an ever increasing slithering towards a pro-Russian dictatorship, but behold! you will eat well for one week.
These are the voters, who happily give their voice and receive something in return. Others, especially state workers, were forced to vote for the ruling party (in power since 2012) under the threat of losing their jobs.
Of course, in the end all of this pressure is hardly worth the effort, as the elections were rigged anyway and a majority of the people did vote for Qotsi, despite the obvious fact, that the leading politicians work on their own, personal agenda. It’s disappointing, that any reasonable being would vote for a political party that is so openly corruptible.

I realise that I sound harsh and unfair. However, it becomes clear to me that Georgia is moving away from being truly European. Not the individual people, certainly not my close friends here, who I adore more than anybody else, but the whole dirty edifice as a whole. The war in Ukraine (yes, it’s called a war, Putin, you sad, empty cunt!) is the famous drop that was one too many. It’s a disgusting display of sheer power whoring, of reckless lying and manipulating, coupled with a creeping hollowing of the free and concerned public opinion.
The valiant, empathetic Georgian people rose up and demanded their government for immediate support for the harassed, bleeding Ukrainian defenders. The political leadership answered unanimously – with silence. Well, okay, with a small outcry, condemning Russia’s move. But did any actions follow?
( a bit of a badly structured paragraph, I might rephrase it a later stage )

Slava Ukrainiy!

When I was on my 20-hours bus ride through Turkey, I had a lot of time to reflect on what lays ahead. When I first lived here I was in love and its magic made me oblivious to certain aspects of the unpleasant reality; where there was wonder, love and excitement, now sadness reigns. I have become anxious, fearing that I might be ran over by a drunk Georgian driver at any time. Or mistaken as a Russian and injured for this reason. I feel disillusioned. I had hugged Georgia and its mode-de-vie, but the embrace has been loosened and instead of the warm and affectionate feeling an awkward silence imposed itself. There’s a dwelling anger in my chest.
Therefore, it appears evident that my time here in this country comes to a close. I resolve to leave ere summer, with no mind to buying a return ticket.

Before closing this chapter I must, however, bring a small memory back to my mind. It was on my excursion to Tkibuli (ტყიბული) that I met some excellent Georgians in a restaurant. I join their drinking and feasting party. Despite the war in Russia and their ever-increasing hatred towards the Russian language, they conversed with me, therefore overcoming their unease, anger and sadness for the sake of communication: an altogether smart and wise approach. We enjoyed our reciprocal company. Upon hearing that I was going to leave Georgia one man asked me not to forget them.

That was all he demanded. To remember that scene. The true identity of one part of Georgia. A welcoming, warm, hospitable and out-goinf one. One that overcomes problems, personal and the ones that are a produce of society and the environment. And I am happy for this memory and for many, many more.

But I have made up my mind about leaving.

Off, I will go, into the west.

Georgia on my mind ✌

Some thoughts on Kyrgyzstan and a silly anecdote.

Krgyzstan is a true Kaputnik-State. Which means that it works, despite the fact that absolutely nothing is meant to function. You get the idea immediately within the first 5 minutes in the country: Grammatical errors in the official airport signs, no means of renting cars, an absence of busses and the likliness that your flight will be delayed, because a cow decided to nap on the runway. Just like they do on every other road.

Can you spot the mistake?

Maybe the latter is exaggerated. It is, however, very surprising that 30 years after declaring its independence and controling vast mineral ressources, Kyrgyzstan would still not be able to run a few buslines – or marshrutka (vans) throughout some part of the most central regions. The only train line that does exists, apparently runs only once every week!

Even this thing is able to conquer the mountain. Why not a bloody bus?

Every official state worker seems to be corruptible. Take a random street cop for example: instead of writing a fine for speeding for 500 som (around 5€), he gladly and woolfishly accepts 200 som that go straight into his own pockets. The higher the rank, the higher the bribes get.

Unsurprisingly, this treacherous nature that is so visibly displayed by the important people of Kyrgyzstan, is imitated by its other inhabitants. I have the impression that almost each and every (male) citizen will try to cheat you of your money. Deals that are agreed on, can easily be altered to the locals wishes, desires and, of course, to the tourists/travelers growing frustration.

At one point… something snaps within the tourists troubled, oxygen-deprived and most oftenly over-heated brain. And then the haggling starts. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Bargain for every cent/som as if your life depended on it. Do not trust any of the prices.

It so happened that, while staying in Osh for a few days, me and one of the 4 Israelian guys staying in the same hostel, went to buy some Coke. The prices on the markets were close to 60 som for 1.5 Liters (for warm and filthy Coke), whereas the one we found in a real shop was tagged at the dastard price of 80 som. So we haggled.

“80 som? That’s prosta outrageous! Never in my life have we found anything this inhumane and despicable. Have you seen the prices on the market, have you? This is already only barely acceptable, but 80… 80 som? I need this money to feed my poor, gray donkey a little bit of grass that he so deserves on his old days. He’s already limbing on his two hind legs, but he wants to go back to his mountain village to see his donkey wife and donkey children before the inevitable happens, yalla.”

We managed to push the prices by 5 som. Not great, not terrible. But when trying to pay, we ran into some serious issues: we did not have enough coins. We were going through our combined wallets and pockets and found only about 70 or so som. That, plus about 10.000 more, but only in big bills and we had already entered a stage of stingy deception that there was was no turning back. In the end, we got it our way and, though embarrassing as it was, we achieved a little discount.

On that day we truly understood some of the Kyrgyz mentality. All thanks to a completely rotten government.

The Isrealian desert rat that can eat an infinite amount of pasta.

The mashed mess the convolutions of my brain have come up with

Well, certainly I’ve arrived here in this amazing and intriguing Kyrgyzstan only a short while ago and I what might have seen is (hopefully) less than the outer layer of all the curiosities this country has to offer. Yet it would appear that all of this is already more than enough for my brain to handle, so that it needs to try and find a way to sort and stock this input somewhere. Is it possible that I find it harder to cope with the amount of input than a few years ago? Or is it just that Kyrgyzstan is so much more difficult to understand as an outsider? However exhausting living in Berlin or in Luxembourg may have been (mostly it had been really relaxing), nothing could have prepared me for the first week here. Really not at all. Because all these manifold impressions need to be processed here and now. This process needs to take place in this jeep that’s speeding over horribly dusty roads. You see, I am far from being in a calm place where I can think and meditate. It has to happen now.

I close my eyes and a million different impressions appear before my inner eye. As if on an epic dose of LSD my mind dislodges chronologically well ordered information into a caleidoscopesque fashion. Colours become more intensive, lights flicker and randomly vary in brightness, while the shapes of buildings, landscapes and peoples’ faces come into a renewed existence – however personal and fictional they have become by now. My imagination begins to kick in and melts the very essence of existence.

Imagine this shape at night time contrasting the starry, starry night sky

A massive and dark mountain range draws nearer at an almost incredible speed. Though it approaches, its shape remains unchanged, no further details become distinguishable on the huge silhouette. Only the overhead sky changes in colour: from an intensive, cloudless light blue that you might find on a warm, midday summer day over the vast expanses of the ocean, to the dark blue colour of an infinitely beautiful sapphire starry night. The stars shine brighter with every passing second and takes on the well-known and familiar structure of our Milky Way. They dance around in the hot evening heat, but as I lean forward to regard them from a little closer, the dance becomes distinguishable as the regular up and down of reflections on the Ysyk-Kul lake. I take a deep breath as I watch the wavy surface of this mountain lake and smell its salty water.

The taste then instantly translates into pictures of the black salt mine deep within the dry mountain ranges of the Naryn region. Let’s follow this guided tour through the former mine for a while – it definitely is a little absurd, but no reason for alarm. What was once an extremely lucrative mine (its salt was equally as worthy as gold) has now been transformed into a most extravagant sanatorium. As if played at 2x the normal speed, we move through the шахты, the mine shafts, and explore its interiors. What a calm and quite place without even the most remote life form, as none can flourish in this deadly, salty atmosphere; completely devoid of water.

The tour comes to an end and I leave behind the magnificient, though industrial, carvings on the walls. The exit fills the empty air with warmth and dust. The blinding light falls into my eyes and I blink involuntarily.

Upon opening them again, the salt has disappeared and in his stead I find a loud and busy bazar/market. I stop short. A sheer, never-ending flood of Kyrgyz people flow by. Some are old, others young. Few have money, most work hard to earn a days living. In their eyes I can see stress and calm. Together they have lived a million years; years of stability, perspective, wealth, development and aspirations. However, most of this combined life span was spent in a chaotic mess. The crowd comes to a standstill. Their faces remain visible. Their eyes speak of million stories, yet their mouth stay shut. Their accounts are not audible. Low tunes of a melchanolic guitar play the music of loss… dust in the wind. The sunlight fades, its last sunrays illuminate the contrast in their tanned faces while a nasty, dirty smell fills the air. As if in a dustbowl, my tongue is covered in a sand-like substance.

The processing comes to an abrupt halt. I open my eyes for real. Only thick clouds of dust remain that have been unearthed by cars going over the weathered roads. I look out of the open window and above streches a great starry firmament. They will lead us safely to our next destination. We will soon arrive in our longed-for post-Soviet and former uranium mine of Min-Kush.

Soon we will have arrived. The car jerks heavily as it hits another hole in the road and I dive deep into a deep slumber.

Good night, beloved celestial companions! I shall welcome you into my dreams and have you shine over all the mysterious and magical places that still await me.

The Art of Acting

Let’s not overthink this. Yes, best be not to think too much. Because if you started thinking, this pretty immediately made you consider and possibly reconsider choices that may or may not have been taken hastily. But acted we did.

Let’s not overthink this choice to visit the far lands of Kyrgyzstan. Even though it was not the first choice, as the Russian bureaucratic system made us act involuntarily and probably too fast for our own good. In fact, the effort required to first of all collect all the documents for obtaining a Russian visa is tremendous. After struggling to gather all the papers for over 2 or 3 months, Ludwig and I collectively decided to abandon our initial idea and travel instead to the mountainous, post-Soviet state of Kyrgyzstan.

Our momentary travel route

It was in the early days of 2021 when the idea of photographing Sovietic моногорода arose (monogorods, Russian #bezeichnung# for a industrial towns that are entirely centered on one single source of revenue. They are most mining or other industrial cities. Norilsk, the Nothern-most industrial city, whose industry is focussed primarily on mineral mining and processing may be cited as a lovely example – also it is responsible for emitting 2% of the global CO2 emissions). Further, we were planning on diving deep into the local community and gather information on people by sticking to the ethnographic research method called participant observation. The so collected data should later form the basis, on which he wants to write his Bachelor thesis. A route had already been layed out, focussing primarily on the Ural mountain range and things appeared pretty jolly.

Our initial plan have undergone minor changes

However, due to the before-mentionned inconveniences concerning Russian bureaucracy we short-handedly changed our plans. Our new aim was Kyrgyzstan.

Why Kyrgyzstan? What do we know about the country? Not too much. Only the little information we found in various academic articles on ethnic composition (e.g. of the 70.000 Coreans deported by Stalin to Central Asia only a minute fraction did move back to Corea after the collapse od the USSR) and environmental problems. Very little did we find on Soviet influence in the region and possible Slavonic communities in the country… which is very unfortune, as Ludwig’s BA should have a clear connection with Slavonic studies.

Time will eventually show, if this travel will have any scientific value at all or if we’re only going to spend a month-long, well-deserved and long overdue summer holiday in one of the most magnificient post-Soviet states. Because sun, heat and a mighty mountain range we crave!

But let us not hesitate one more second. Let us rather dive straight into the adventure ahead and act. Do. Feel and experience. And, of course, share it with an evergrowing crowd of people.

Ludwig on his first day on Kyrgyzstan

MADE? Eh, dat is ja voll ecklig!

Thank you all for reading these lines. We will do our best to keep the following articles as interesting to the reader’s eyes as we can.

More pictures and short stories will be uploaded on our Telegram channel: https://t.me/joinchat/joyCoUa0i5BmMDNi

Stories of Berlin

A mysterious place.

There is a place, where thoughts can run free. One that sooths material needs and brings remedy for the weary.
A curious incident in our globalised world has it, that some strange fellow over yonder turned batman’s best mate into his dinner and accidentally killed all tourism world-wide. The halted dynamics of our globalised world came to an abrupt halt, leaving people all across turn their usual question: “What shall we watch on Netflix tonight , dear?” into an existential question of life and death. By an act of openess to novelty, Berlin accepted the new trend of staying home and turned it into an almost fanatical religion, inspiring people from all level of society likewise.
Chance has it that the unknown solitude outside gets a grab on a fortituous few, that set out for a long adventure of discovery. Forgotten treasures are hidden in a world, that once was so fast and now changes for a quieter character. It is here where features and signs take on a new appearence. The darkness feels thicker. the stars above shine all the brighter, licking the sick blue planet underneath with their heavy, celestial light. Some places develop a unfathomable attraction as time goes by and thereby create an aura that amaze the soul with an underlying feeling of awe towards it. And with the unknown and mystical lethargy that has befallen our usually Oh! too rapid society, the veneration, encompassing only certain places, cedes. The lethargy, however, continuously spreads through all streets and houses, seaks through windows and is wildly absorbed by every person, until all venture into the normally familiar surroundings becomes testing. It is in these times, that the boundaries to other places are lifted, or at least, set to a different level, as the usual dismissive athmosphere is level with the rest of the city. Especially as one can enjoy the society’s dynamics and stay within its expectations avoiding direct contact to its members.
One spot that strikes me as particular wonderful is miraculously near, yet so exclusive. It is within the reach of a home office worker’s way to work and back and is so elusive like the probabilty that this very worker puts on pants for his “office time”. Though the way to the pipes – because that is precisely what this place is – is obstructed by a metal fence, the small effort to overcome this obstacle is not in vain. The locked gate, delineating the border between a semi-busy and a calm philosopher’s life, seemed mighty before the lockdown and can by now easily be climbed over. No more wary eyes need to be avoided. You simply step over and finds yourself in an oasis of quietness. As it crosses the rails underneath, the place seems to magically hover mid-air, thus transmitting a feeling of split-off from the grounds below. You continue forward, while taking in the fresh air, the regular vibrations from the water that flows through the pipes and go on all the way until you reach about the middle of the distance to the closed restaurant that lays at the end of the unoffical crossing. There you halt and let the curve of the pipes equal the curve of your spine.

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Before you stretches an enormous grey and urban valley, filled with metal rails and automatic train signs. High buildings, lit in a very individual way on both sides, act as insurmountable mountains that guides the eyes forward in a quasi natural way. As the eyesight creeps forwards towards the open skies above it, its gaze momentarily rests upon the next train station in a far distance that shares its light with you, though retains its sounds. Just like marvellous shooting stars, every now and then, a car turns around and gives a dynamic touch to the usually stiff still life ahead. Suddenly you become aware of a forgotten sight: the thin clouds overhead make space for a spectacle of grace and eternity, uncovering the universe’s lost treasure. The stars step out of their exile, looking down on you in awe. There it hangs now, the universe’s precious, that has become nothing but a legend that the elders used to tell us about in all major cities where the inhabitant’s focus lays not in the day-dreaming, but in the everyday routine. Here at last, you can experience the power of nature again. The energy that flows from the celestial bodies and our Earth is the same energy that we use to fuel our destructive civilisations. We humans have learned how to harvest and unleash all this energy in a most violent fashion, thereby threatening the healthy life cycle. Yet, nature must do only as much as produce a few lines of RNA and all human activities come to an unforeseen halt.
Did the violonist from Sting have any solo concerts? (He does)
What camera does this guy on Facebook use to photograph the surface of the moon?
What did I spend this money on? – Oh yes, I remember.
How many times did I wash my hands already?
Another train of thoughts rushes to your head. Its the memories that you associate with this place. Its exclusivity had it, that you dared not trespass its territory on a regular basis, just for special occasions and usually in a rather inebriate condition. It always brought balance to a life out of balance by means of a reminiscient return to thoughtfulness. On a cold Orthodox Christian night, this added a certain heartwarming touch to the Christmas lights all over the balconies of the granite blocks on both sides of the valley, and, though some randomly innocent and stray pine trees also found their way across the boundary, had the jolly drunk community that surrounded you shortly slow down and absorb the mystical air around.
You realise that much has changed ever since the hypersonic times. Though they are distant by nothing more than three weeks you begin to recollect memories and let a broad set of questions protrude your consciousness, such as: How many friends have left in search of a more adequate life and location? How many others have appeared? How much knowledge have we learned? How many some things forgotten or exchanged for better approaches to difficult topics? … Within a couple of weeks, life has found a dramatic change in direction. Much that once was is lost, though most that now live remember it. It began with the forging of a virus. Millions were given to the Chinese, great miners and craftsmen under The People’s Party’s control…
Again your minds spins unconcealable through memories of age-old times, through scenes of Lord of the Rings that pop up before your inner eye, through  your children’s frauds, through philosophical questions about death and love. And as you live your life again through every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge, I leave you alone with yourself and wander back home, where fresh green tea awaits me.

Wash your hands, wash your butts, wash your face… though not necessarily in this order. Stay safe and, if possible, home. But before the walls come creeping closer every day and your mind approaches it breaking-point, stray out into the darkness and find yourself a quiet spot of solitude.

 

 

 

We need more garlic.

I guess that nobody would have expected that rewriting the original Batman stories would become a necessity by 2020. Some god-forsaken soul was roaming through the dark and unholy realms of Wuhan Market for Black Magic (or something along that way), looking for a carnivoruous treat that promised to give him some special powers. Between a wide variety of equally abhorrent delicacies, the person of interest traded the “Winged Bat-soup” for his soul. The unusually sinister-looking seller had explained the volatile nature of the beast at hand and guaranteed that its ability to conquer the air by lifting itself from the ground would be transferred to whomever would consume the beast’s wings. After having the cough of his life, this person must have reconsidered his (or her) life choices. Maybe it would have been better to pick the badger’s spleen with all of its ferocity, or the otter’s noses for perfect respiration (we’re still talking about China), or possibly the lark’s vomit for whatever sick purposes. Anyway, our pitoyable bastard experienced a very unhealthy situation, that, if it hasn’t killed him on the spot,  must have at least contributed to the realisation of two things: First, eating the last rubbish in the most hellish part of China right after The Party’s headquarters probably isn’t the best idea; second, it’s rather a good idea to read the fine-print. Even though the “Winged Bat-soup” hadn’t given him wings (at least, there’s no evidence of it), it’s volatility has so far done its best to unbelievably annoy every living soul on this planet.

I should apologise for the harsh language. It could be worse though.

How exactly a probably awful-tasting flying mammal that inspired comic book producers in the USA as well as Bram Stoker’s amazing Dracula (and all of the fanfiction included) could once again impact the culture worldwide could not have been expected.
Except that it could have.
Koyanisqaatsi, the title of a ground-breaking and longbreathed film and also an old-Indian saying meaning as much as “the world out of balance” or “a state of life that calls for another way of living”, feature no actors whatsoever but nothing but long cuts of the terrors of modern society and what it means to the natural balance. Its climax shows the Challenger Rocket during its short aim for the stars that had it exploding and its crew tumbling down in a burning wreck. It’s hardly surprising that a film that was released 40 years ago (!) had already forseen the outcome of humanity’s actions. It had predicted the brutal end of our species and the millions of other species that we took into the abyss with us. We haven’t changed our habits so far. Quite the opposite is the case: We’ve stepped up our pace at destroying the world with a fervour, that has no equal in nature. The one thing that differentiates animals and humans for sure is our insatiable hunger for more and our sociability. Feelings can be spread across continents with great ease and unify all humans, despite our seemingly divergent nature. The surge for more has entered the hearts of the majority, the capitalst ideology has gone beyond what it was actually supposed to be and infested our civilisations like a virus.

In our hunger for excitement we forgot the meaning of humbleness. In a collectivised strive for ever more and more, the boundaries of what can be described as “compatible” for a coexistence with all of nature’s wonders has long ago been disrespected and overshot. An old friend of mine once told me about his outstanding skills at finding cheap flights and how he flew to Denmark to visit Legoland and come back days later: at a price of 2€. At this price, even the poorest among us could witness the world’s marvelous and manifold beauty. While the social movement should be welcomed – the proletariat has broken its chains – , the universal freedom comes at a heavy price. We abandoned our calm nature and reason for a metropolitan dream that devours the world’s beauty and our self-satisfaction. Everyone was under constant pressure to live up to a unfathomable universally-percieved expectation, though its realisation would have gone by completely unnoticed by the individual, as there would have been no more time to bathe in the feeling of gratitude or whatever feeling one so much desired.

During this rush, we forgot or ignored the dangers of our actions. That some sick creep ate an animal clearly not made for consumption – as are all animals – is just the peak of a glacier of unspeakable ignorance towards everything we once held dear. The ignominies of what Chinese traditional medicine is, however, no more repelling than certain sick Western movements, such as the anti-vaccs abnormalities. Instead of accepting the miracle of proven medicine, some maniac mothers found it wisenot to vaccinate their children in fear of possible autism (which, by the way, has no foundings) and therefore opening the medical world to a new dimension of horrific sicknesses that have long been thought dead. All those fanatic small-pox denying fuckers can just as well go jump off a cliff, along with the shameful beings that go shopping in such places.

This all-encompassing practices just perfectly demonstrates the ignorance towards natural boundaries and a complete disrespect for the scientific progress that we achieved in all those thousands of years of research. It is probable that, had some Chinese people not dug too creedily and too deep (you damn know what they awoke there), we would have continued our human strive towards our own complete annihilation… and that of millions – if not billions – of wonderfully innocent lifeforms that populated the world in a more or less peaceful way before humanity started to take roots.
We should thank the calamity that befell our societies. Not for killing our elderly or sick. Not for making medical personnel do an incredible work-load that could have been avoided. Also not for putting hundreds of thousands of smaller businesses and its employees at an existential risk.

Of course not.

We could, however, for once welcome the absence of violence on a global scale (while ignorning some wild fantasies involving conspiracies and racial hate), the sudden and unexpected speed at which politics CAN function, or the international help that’s being offered without any ulterior motive (great respect to the Cuban doctors that were transferred to Italy to fight off the ever-increasing death toll).
The virus and all inconveniences involved (the curfew for example) can signify a global change in directions, a change in our aims and aspirations, a change in our expectations towards ourselves and not some world-wide sense of mindless exuberance. Before the ecosystem fails on a global state, the crisis has pathed the way for a different, more laid-back lifestyle that has been widely discussed, but hasn’t come to play a significant role. The time in curfew can be used to establish a new train of thought on a global level. As you can observe, the Earth keeps on spinning without global military conflicts and an inacceptable exploitation of our common mother’s soils.
One might say that the current situation is not only one that should be handled with care and foresight, but can also introduce us to a brave new world. At the moment we’re holding a shotgun to our heads while taking a selfie with the other hand – and everyone’s dumbly looking at it, deaf to specialist’s advices that this may not be the best of ideas and that someone should stop this madness.

I’m trying to say that sometimes we should be happy with the prospect of climbing a tree instead of traveling all the way to Sumatra for a weekend trip.

Stay safe, keep your distance from other people’s pestillence and make the best of your quarantine days.
Don’t end up like Marlon Brando:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-bvNttwAUc

 “Each time I looked around, the walls moved in a little tighter” :The opening scence from Apocalypse now…