beyond the curtain (english)
DESCRIPTION
Twenty-five years ago, the Iron Curtain was torn down. Ten years ago, eight post-communist states joined the EU. But what do we really know about our neighbours beyond the border?TRANSCRIPT
Twenty-five years ago, the Iron Curtain was torn down.
Ten years ago, eight post-communist states joined the
EU. But what do we really know about our neighbours
beyond the border?
2
PREFACE
The Iron Curtain has been history for 25
years now. This is a good thing because
without it, young Europeans have been
able to grow up without travel restrictions,
ideological warfare or the fear of nuclear
war. However, this also means that the
events of 1989 are receding farther into
the past. The historical significance of the
Fall of the Berlin Wall and the Perestroika
movement suddenly seem to no longer be
pertinent. For many young people, a divided
Europe is simply unimaginable.
Cafébabel, the first online magazine for the
Euro generation, didn’t want to celebrate
the 25th anniversary of 1989 with boring dates and blurry black and white photographs. That’s
why in March of 2014 we developed the reportage project BEYOND THE CURTAIN. Young
journalists from Germany, Poland, Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic and Slovakia set
out in search for personal stories from both before and after the Fall of the Iron Curtain. Their
reportages, which were published through Cafébabel, reveal a unified yet contradictory Europe:
young Austrians, Slovaks and Hungarians dance together to the sounds of electronic music
at the Waves Festival; German youths rediscover the Fall of the Wall and outspokenly warn
against the new walls that are emerging on the eastern borders of the EU; young Czechs and
Hungarians emigrate to Austria to seek work or an education. By contrast, comparatively few
Western Europeans choose to spend their Erasmus year in the “East”.
An iron curtain between East and West certainly no longer exists, but although the Soviet
Union fell 25 years go, there still remains a divide between western European and post-
communist states. Overcoming this divide, which really only exists in our minds, is the goal
behind BEYOND THE CURTAIN. Our authors, photographers and documentary filmmakers
travelled in binational teams to the former borders to cast the relationship between East and
West in a new light. With these reportages, we strive to foster a Europe that comes together
not only on paper, but also in the minds of the people.
LILIAN PITHAN, Editor-in-chief of Cafébabel Berlin
EUROPEUNCURTAINED
3
PREFACE
One hundred years since World War I, and 25
years since the Fall of the Berlin Wall: the year
2014 stood as a year of a remembrance.
Politicians recalled historical events,
eyewitnesses spoke up, and members of
society discussed the significance that history
holds for our current times.
Although they never personally witnessed the
Fall of the Wall in 1989, many young people
are showing an interest in the turmoil of the years 1989/1990, especially when the topic is
adequately addressed. Cafébabel have taken upon themselves the task of recounting the
historical events in Europe, thereby establishing relevance for the present.
Last year, the German Federal Agency for Civic Education (Bundeszentrale für politische
Bildung/bpb) honoured Cafébabel with an award through the competition “25 Jahre
Mauerfall: Geschichte erinnern – Gegenwart gestalten” for their reportage project BEYOND
THE CURTAIN. Through this accolade, 25 people, organisations and projects focussing on
historical-political education were honoured – all of which performed, through exceptional
strategies, a great service to society in their portrayals of 1989.
The present e-magazine displays the current reality in the countries surrounding the former
Iron Curtain, 25 years after its fall. It is a vibrant, international reality, in which borders hardly
seem to play a role. Young people are open towards the people and cultures on either side of
the former Iron Curtain. And it is exactly this attitude that Europe presently needs.
THOMAS KRÜGER, President of the German Federal Agency for Civic Education
A NEW VIEWOF HISTORY
GERMANY
POLAND
CZECH REP.
AUSTRIA HUNGARY
SLOVAKIA
VIENNA
PG. 8 - 9
BRATISLAVA
PG. 6 - 7
BUDAPEST
PG. 12 - 13
GÖRLITZ
PG. 10 - 11
SŁUBICE
PG. 14 - 15
4
MAP OF EASTERN EUROPE & THE IRON CURTAIN
PARTY WITHOUTBORDERSMartin Maska
Tomáš Mrva
BORDER HOPPINGTO VIENNALinda Tóthová
David Tiefenthaler
PREFACE
GÖRLITZ, COMEFROM THE DEADEmilia Wanat
Christina Heuschen
MELTING POT INBUDAPESTEva Proske
Ráhel Németh
A SILENTFAREWELL TOTHE POLISHMARKETAleksandra Łuczak
Johanna Meyer-Gohde
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Lilian Pithan
EDITORS & TRANSLATORS
Daniel Stächelin (English) | Christina Heuschen (German) | Róża Rozmus (Polish)
ART DIRECTOR
Jee Hei Park
LOGO
Adrien Le Coärer
PUBLISHER
Babel Deutschland e.V., Liebenwalder Str. 34a, 13347 Berlin
[email protected] | www.cafebabel.de/berlin
Copyright © 2015.
The rights for individual contributions are maintained by Babel Deutschland e.V.
and the individual authors. Rights to photos and illustrations are as indicated.
5
TABLE OF CONTENTS & IMPRINT
6 - 7
8 - 9
2 - 3
10 - 11
12 - 13
14 - 15
We go underground, literally. Although a statue of a sitting Buddha overlooks the bar, the
atmosphere is anything but ascetic. Almost everyone is holding a cocktail or beer, the loud
music leaving no room for meditation. But it’s not so noisy that we fail to notice partygoers
speaking English and Spanish, in addition to Slovak. Cheap flights and drinks have turned
the capital of Slovakia into “Partyslava”. For several years, it has primarily been a popular
destination for British tourists going to stag and hen parties. But a couple of years ago, we
heard for the first time that an increasing number of young people from Vienna go clubbing in
Bratislava.
We meet Richard and Bernadette, two young Austrians from Hainburg—a small town right
on the border of Slovakia—who have considerable cross-border clubbing experience.
Richard, who now works in a theatre in Vienna, has been to bars in Bratislava several times.
He first went there when he was 17 years old. “I was pretty bored because all bars were the
same in Hainburg. That’s why we crossed the border”, he tells us. “There are many young
people in Bratislava who are open-minded and cosmopolitan. We simply went there without
any knowledge of the bars.”.
For people from Hainburg, getting to Bratislava is really easy. Taking bus number 901 of
the Bratislava public transportation system, the journey takes only 22 minutes, and if you’re
TEXTMartin Maska
& Tomáš Mrva
Over the past couple of years, Bratislava has become a party
hub. Slovakians and Austrians rub elbows with each other in the city’s
many underground bars and clubs. Could
cross-border clubbing become a major trend
in the future?
6
PARTY WITHOUT BORDERS
under 26 years old, the bus fare is only 75
cents. Drinks are also much cheaper than
in Austria, so it makes sense that people
from towns and villages near the border
prefer Bratislava to Vienna. What are their
favourite venues? Richard tells us that
they often go to the Sky Bar near the U.S.
embassy: “You can go up to the roof, and
they also have a good drink menu.”
Irena, a Serbian who lived in Vienna for
a while before moving to Belgium for an
Erasmus exchange year, is another cross-
border party addict. Shortly after coming to
Vienna, she met a Bosnian guy and asked
him about what places in Vienna were good
to go out to. His answer? “Hmm, to be
honest, all my best nights out while living
in Vienna were in Bratislava”. She laughed
and he promised to take her along on some
of his party trips. They usually went five or
six times a year, mostly to Cirkus Barok,
Nu Spirit Bar and RIO. “The clubs may not
have the most amazing designs, but the
atmosphere is generally more spontaneous.
Guys also find girls better looking than in
Vienna”, she smiles.
Bernadette recently joined Richard and
a group of friends to celebrate a friend’s
birthday in Bratislava. It was her first “party
trip” to the Slovakian capital. “Bars are
different there, and sometimes we simply
want a change of scenery”, she says.
Although she has been to Bratislava’s clubs
only once, she knows a lot about the party
scene of the Slovakian capital. Her brother
is a drummer and plays in two international
jazz bands—jEzzSPRIT and the Gabo
Jonas Trio—that perform in Bratislava. “I’ve
heard of some great concerts from updates
made by Austrian bands that play there, so
I’d like to go check that out, too”.
Despite four decades of both countries
being isolated from each other, neither
Bernadette nor Richard considers
Bratislava to be too different from Vienna
or other Austrian cities. “It’s like Vienna,
and there’s also a lot of nice graffiti”, says
Bernadette. “It’s a growing city, so I don’t
think it’s really too different”. But first
impressions of Bratislava can be mixed.
When you arrive from Austria, the sight
is not spectacular; the Petržalka housing
estate, with its 150 thousand inhabitants
and dozens of Soviet era apartment blocks,
is considered an eyesore. “The bus station
and bridge are weird, but the statues are
super fun and cool to take photos of”, Irena
tells us.
What about the people? Richard seems
convinced that, “people in Bratislava smile
more and are typically more open, whereas
people in Vienna are always in a hurry”.
Bernadette’s view is a bit more nuanced. “I
think in Bratislava, you’re just more aware
of your surroundings, which is why your
first impression may be a bit distorted.”
And how does Irena compare people in
Bratislava to the Viennese? Historically,
relationships between Serbia and Slovakia
have typically been very good, so her
answer doesn’t surprise us. “People are
friendlier, are open to making contacts
and talking with strangers. They’re louder,
wilder, less formal, less snobbish and more
into partying than posing”.
It might still take a number of years before
all differences fade away entirely, but
even today the borders seem to be little
more than lines on a map. Although the
famous tram from Vienna to Bratislava that
was operational from 1919 to 1945 is a
thing of the past, today bus number 901
connects people from both sides. As for
Bernadette and Richard, we’ve asked them
to let us know next time they’re partying
in Bratislava. And when Irena returns from
Belgium, she’ll be invited too. Partygoers of
the world unite!
Our thanks go to Cafebabel Vienna for
their great help with our article.
7
PARTY WITHOUT BORDERS
More than 25 years ago, it seemed inconceivable. Today
it’s as common and natural as using smartphones: everyday,
hundreds of Slovaks cross the border to work in the
Austrian capital Vienna, just 60 kilometres away from
Bratislava. David and Linda woke up early enough to catch the early bird train, in order to
take a closer look at Slovaks’ motivations, feelings and
attitudes surrounding their cross-border lifestyles.
DIRECTED BY
Linda Tóthová &
David Tiefenthaler
WATCH IT HERE:
http://youtu.be/toFaQCVuruc
BorderHoppingtoVienna
9
BORDER HOPPING TO VIENNA
10
GÖRLITZ, COME FROM THE DEAD
Zgorzelec appears like any other Polish
city—a mixture of old, beautiful buildings
amidst ugly billboards. The main street is
crammed with small tobacco shops, and
leads to the Pope John Paul II bridge over
the Nyssa River. It’s a typical Polish mix of
the sacred interwoven with the profane. As
soon as you cross the bridge into Görlitz,
which serves as a symbolic border, you
can sense a difference. And it’s not just
the Germans’ love of order and the archaic
Gothic fonts on street signs: Görlitz’s streets
are mostly filled with pensioners and school
children, the main street seems like the set
of a Western film and shopfronts with their
missing windows appear as if looted by
cowboys.
The reasons for this have their origins in the
Fall of the Berlin Wall 25 years ago. “You
would definitely notice if roughly 10 000
people were to suddenly leave”, says Daniel
Breutmann, chairman of the association
goerlitz21. During the communist era, many
people fled in search of a better life in the
West. But since the collapse of communism,
the migrants’ numbers have exploded, and
Görlitz is no exception. East Germany has
now lost nearly two million inhabitants, or
13% of the population. As industry and
infrastructure crumbled, lots of old factories
and municipal buildings became derelict.
“Sometimes people break into abandoned
buildings just to steal old door frames”, says
Daniel. Zgorzelec, on the Polish side of the
border, has fared slightly better and doesn’t
have to fight brain drain and migration to the
same extent.
To stop vandalism, break-ins and
dilapidation in Görlitz, Daniel Breutmann
and his association take part in the online
project Leerstandsmelder, which is located
throughout Germany. Its online platform
Over the last two decades, Görlitz and Zgorzelec, like many cities post-1989, have undergone rapid changes. On the German side of the border, parts of the city are derelict. Now, young people are figuring out what to do with all the empty spaces.
TEXTChristina Heuschen & Emilia Wanat
PHOTOGRAPHYEmilia Wanat
GÖRLITZ, COMEFROM THE DEAD
11
GÖRLITZ, COME FROM THE DEAD
allows people to not only report empty
spaces, but also search for them. Goerlitz21
serves as an agency that processes formal
requests to use and rent spaces. Some
have come from the German-French
television channel ARTE, as well as from the
Babelsberg Filmstudios, one of the oldest
film studios in the world. But there have also
been commercial requests for shops and
storage spaces on Leerstandsmelder. “Aside
from well known empty spaces in Görlitz,
such as the city hall, the RAW train yard in
Schlauroth or the capacitor factory, there is
a lot of hidden commercial and private real
estate”, Daniel explains.
The Kühlhaus, for example, was built in the
‘50s and was just being renovated when the
Berlin Wall came down. The monumental
building, which was used as a means of
refrigerating food, wound up becoming a
ruin. But recently, the Kühlhaus has risen
from the dead. In 2008, young people from
the area were looking for a space where
they could organize events. In contrast to
cities like Berlin, Warsaw or Vienna, Görlitz
lacks the kind of venues that would appeal
to artists, hipsters and partygoers. The
Kühlhaus seemed the perfect place—it’s
outside of town, but connected by public
transportation. The space is enormous and
has a large garden outside that’s perfect
for hosting open-air events. But its interior
was in complete disarray, the floor was
overgrown with grass and weeds, and the
windows and roof looked like decaying
pieces of refuse.
“We‘re using the past to create something
new”, says Nadine Mietk. “Like right now,
I‘m repairing and painting window frames.”
There are about sixteen volunteers like her,
people who are helping with the renovation
of the Kühlhaus. The air is filled with the
smell of paint and solvent. A shelf that’s
propped up against the wall has been
brought here from a local school. With retro
furniture and an old school radio, the entire
space looks like a vintage collector’s dream.
Ironically, abandoned buildings like the
Kühlhaus may be just the opportunity
for Görlitz to come back to life. “These
empty buildings are great outlets for the
creative economy as well as for young
people”, says Juliane Wedlich, one of the
Kühlhaus managers. “There are enough
cheap and free spaces here that can be
used for alternative projects in culture and
business”. In 2012, the team organized the
first MoxxoM-Openair—an electronic music
festival that’s grown into a three-day event.
And as of 2015, they’ve been receiving a
large sponsorship from the Robert Bosch
Foundation.
With their project Jugend.Stadt.Labor
Rabryka (Youth.City.Laboratory Rabryka,
Ed.), the local organisation Second Attempt
has an equally positive impact on the
cityscape of Görlitz. Through its cultural and
artistic workshops and projects, Second
Attempt aims to mitigate the hopelessness
that the youth in Eastern Germany feel. “We
believe that we can guide young people to
start their own initiatives”, explains Erik Thiel,
one of the project volunteers. “They need to
participate to shape their living space and
to actualise their dreams for society, apart
from simply being consumers”. Rabryka was
developed by a group of young people at the
Fokus Festival, where young Germans and
Poles—not just from Görlitz and Zgorzelec,
but from all over Poland—gather together.
Rabryka is now located in the Energiefabrik,
a former factory used to meet industrial
demands for yeast production. Although
industrial barrels and train rails are
reminiscent of the factory’s past, its large
and elaborate graffiti are testimony to its
modern uses. Whether through renovation,
horticulture or musical projects, Rabryka
aims to develop new ideas for urban
development. “It’s an experimental laboratory
through which we want to bring the city
back to life“, says Erik. To achieve this, they
network with youths, sponsors and local
municipality. But there is also cooperation
with organisations across the border in
Zgorzelec. “Most of the events are bilingual”,
says Inga Dreger, who is a board member
of Second Attempt. “However, the primary
emphasis shouldn‘t be put on the German-
Polish relationship because that should be
taken for granted in the borderland”.
However enthusiastic the project managers
and volunteers of Leerstandsmelder,
Kühlhaus and Rabryka might be, bringing a
whole city back to life isn’t an easy feat. The
number of organisational and bureaucratic
obstacles can seem daunting, but they’re
not insurmountable. “Over the past few
years, cooperation with the local municipality
has clearly improved”, says Juliane Wedlich.
“There are some reconsiderations taking
place, although we sometimes feel it takes
too long. We hope that city officials realise
the great opportunity that these empty
spaces offer, and with this a chance for
young and creative people to thrive”.
Erik Thiel agrees: “Space always holds
possibilities, but it also entails problems
such as building stock, reducing noise
emission or making arrangements for fire
safety”. Still, Erik, Juliane and the others
are doing their best to resurrect Görlitz from
the dead. Maybe one day in the near future,
the city’s main street won’t feel like such a
Wild West ghost town anymore. If you listen
closely, you can almost begin to hear the
saloon doors of the Kühlhaus swaying back
and forth to the bustle of partygoers.
MeltingPotinBudapest
12
MELTING POT IN BUDAPEST
DIRECTED BY
Eva Proske &
Ráhel Németh
WATCH IT HERE
http://youtu.be/Pw_gFhe_IBI
The number of people with foreign passports
living in Hungary has steadily grown in the
last ten years. That’s why Hungary’s Prime
Minister Viktor Orbán has been trying to
toughen his country’s immigration laws.
Above all, he seems to be frightened by the
prospect of “parallel cultures”.
The largest migration group in Hungary are
Germans, comprising roughly two per cent
of the Hungarian population. We met up
with a number of them in Budapest and
came to learn that the concept of a German
“parallel culture” doesn’t hold weight. Rather
than staying solely amongst themselves,
Germans are very curious about the
Hungarian culture and society. Many have
heard about public German get-togethers,
but have never gone. Despite what people
may assume, Budapest doesn’t seem to
be the “next Berlin”. So, what does Viktor
Orbán have to worry about?
13
MELTING POT IN BUDAPEST
14
A SILENT FAREWELL TO THE POLISH MARKET
“Here comes the Poland bus!”, calls one of the retirees at the Frankfurt (Oder) railway station.
Shortly after, a group of elderly people squeeze their way into the vehicle. Its doors close after
the last rolling walkers, wheelchairs and suitcases with cat embroidery are stowed away. The
passengers’ mission is written on the bus’s side windows in a bold font: “Travelling to
Słubice for cheap prices” and “Off to Poland for extra goodies.” Many of the retirees have
travelled the extra 100 kilometres from Berlin, taking advantage of special offers provided by
the Deutsche Bahn railway company. Their shopping lists read, “visit my hairdresser”, “blue
pills for my buddies”, “coffee” and, of course, “cigarettes”.
The bus navigates the tower block district before steering in the direction of the Oder bridge.
Although the border checkpoint buildings have in recent years been torn down, and there have
ceased to be inspections, one can sense a border. A large number of gaudy billboards spring
up out of the ground immediately after crossing the bridge: “Cigarettes 24 Hours”, “Super
Cheap!” and again, “Cigarettes!!!!!”. The small town of Słubice, with its 17,000 inhabitants,
seems to be blanketed with smoke shops. There are two bazaars here, both of which
Germans like to call “Polish Markets”. The larger of the two is a few kilometres outside of the
city centre. Weekend tourists are able to get everything here, from wailing puppies to knockoff
Thor Steinar clothes—a brand hugely popular with neo-Nazis.
The smaller bazaar, which is just a few hundred metres away from the Oder bridge, is
considered an insiders’ secret. It consists of an easily navigable number of roofed corridors.
Small shops are lined up next to each other, packed to the brim with a vibrant mishmash of
goods: kitschy frilled curtains next to sparkly tiger print blouses, pirated Andrea Berg CDs next
to fishing tackle, garden gnomes and plastic dolls, fruits, vegetables and chocolate pralines.
Following your nose, you wind up at the very heart of the bazaar: the Bar Appetit. Bratwursts
and chicken legs dribbling with grease are piled up behind the counter. The small room is
already packed in the morning with small groups of elderly people, who sit at plastic tables
and go to town on their breaded schnitzels with plastic silverware. Ketchup, mayonnaise and
mustard are on standby in XXL squeeze bottles.
At the beginning ofthe ‘90s, finding cheap prices on goods—from
cigarettes, garden gnomes, knockoff
perfume, among other things—was as easy as going on a trip to
the “Polish Markets” in Słubice. Is business at the bazaars still booming, 25 years after the Fall of the
Berlin Wall?
TEXTJohanna Meyer-Gohde &
Aleksandra Łuczak
PHOTOGRAPHYJohanna Meyer-Gohde
A S I L E N T
FA R E W E L L
T O T H E
P O L I S H
M A R K E T
15
A SILENT FAREWELL TO THE POLISH MARKET
Marysia, with her red apron, short red dyed
haircut, and friendly but stern demeanour,
serves drinks. “In Poland we actually eat
later in the day, around 4 p.m.”, she explains
in a fluid German with strong Polish accent,
“but here lunchtime is from 11 to 2, just like
in Germany”. The 56-year-old opened the
small bazaar tuck shop more than 20 years
ago. Today, she only occasionally cooks
and serves, her youngest daughter having
taken over management a couple years ago.
Before the Fall of the Iron Curtain, Marysia
was a seamstress at a local factory that was
forced to close—like many state companies
in Poland—after 1989. Like her, many Poles
used the newly won economic freedoms
that the collapse of socialism offered them
to open their own small businesses.
Further down the corridor is Zofia’s flower
shop. “Cigarettes would have brought in
more money, but I thought flowers better
suited a woman”, says the mid 60-year-
old as she bundles pink anthurium flowers
into a bouquet with green grasses. The
bouquet is intended for one of her regular
customers: Dieter. He runs errands while his
wife is getting a haircut next door. Chatting
with Zofia—in German, naturally—is part
of the bazaar experience. Like so many
other Frankfurters, Dieter’s Polish skills are
limited—even after all these years—to words
like “please” and “thank you”. “If he had
gotten a Polish woman in bed, then I’m sure
his Polish would be better”, Zofia jokingly
says after he leaves her shop.
Of all her customers, 90% are German.
“They really like things to be comfortable”,
says the experienced saleswoman. In
Poland, it’s not at all common to put flowers
on the table. “It’s not really worth it, because
they only last a few days”, she says. She’s
noticed over the past couple of years that
the customers have increasingly been older
people. “Young people shop in all those evil
monstrosities”, she says, meaning discount
stores, supermarkets and shopping centres.
“Besides, there are constantly fewer people
living in Frankfurt. Just look at all those
blocks of flats. Many of them are either
empty or are being torn down”.
The number of residents in Frankfurt, just
like many other East Germany cities, is
in fact sinking. While there were 86,000
residents directly after the Fall, that number
has reduced by roughly a third. Even a
demographic shift has been noticeable;
young people under 29 years old make
up less than 26% of the city population,
while the number of those over 45 steadily
increased to 60% in 2012. Frankfurt has
been unsuccessful in the fight to reverse
this trend. Regardless of the fact that it has
a university, many students would rather
commute an hour to Berlin, a city that in
terms of jobs and recreation is hard to
outmatch.
The amount of customers at the bazaar
has also been decreasing, because the
prices on both sides of the Oder have
been catching up with each other over the
past couple of years. Nevertheless, the
preconception in Germany that everything is
cheaper in Poland is still widely spread. This
is a reflection of the reality that existed in the
early ‘90s. Back then, the price difference
was so huge that Germans went in droves
to the bazaars to find wholesale bargains
on goods. Now products in Polish stores
cost almost as much as they do in German
stores. And because the Polish Market is
geared toward the German wallet, many
things in supermarkets and discount stores
are even a little more expensive.
“We never go to the bazaar”, says Joanna
Pyrgiel. The energetic 38-year-old, who is
responsible for foreign collaboration at the
municipal office, has lived in Słubice for
several years, and has been to the bazaar
only once. In contrast to Frankfurt, Słubice
is seeing a steady increase in population.
The possibility of living in Poland and being
able to work just across the border in
Germany is attracting Poles to the Oder
from the country’s every nook and cranny.
“Over there”, salaries are higher, and there
seems to be a lack of skilled employees.
After the border controls were done away
with in 2009, the relationship between
Frankfurt and Słubice intensified. What was
considered unimaginable a couple years ago
is the norm today, like the bus connection
over the Oder, or the German-Polish schools
and day-care centres that have sprung up.
And there are even collaborative cultural
events and festivals. Young people from
both parts of the “double city”, as Pyrgiel
so describes Frankfurt and Słubice, meet
up in numerous clubs and bars throughout
Słubice. For the residents of Słubice, the
bazaar exists more so in the periphery of
their awareness.
The merchants of the small bazaar aren’t
creating illusions for themselves about the
future of the “Polish Markets”. Should their
country join the Eurozone in the not-too-
distant future, they could lose their price
advantages. “The Euro will come, old
nans will die out, then the merchants, too,
and soon after there wont be a bazaar at
all”, says Zofia in a sober tone. It’s now 3
p.m.—time for Zofia to take her bouquets
out of their vases and store them in her
shop. The vegetable merchant to the right
and the praline merchant to the left are also
busy packing up their goods, while Marysia
wipes down her tables. The corridors are
empty around this time. The last remaining
customers leave the bazaar through the
eastern entrance, where a discount store,
whose parking lot is packed at this time of
day, awaits them. Here, the shopping has
just begun.
CHRISTINAHEUSCHEN
Be rl in
Journalist & copywriter
JEE HEIPARK
Be rl in
Graphic designer & Illustrator
TOMÁŠMRVA
B rat is lava
Freelance journalist, copywriter &
translator
ALEKSANDRAŁUCZAK
Be rl in/Poznań
Student (interpreting & Eastern
European History)
JOHANNAMEYER-GOHDE
Be rl in
Student (Central & Eastern
European Studies)
DAVIDT IEFENTHALER
Vienna
Student (politics & journalism)
RÁHELNÉMETH
Budapest
Student (translation & interpreting)
LILIANP ITHAN
Be rl in
Journalist, editor &
translator
16
CONTRIBUTORS
LINDATÓTHOVÁ
B rat is lava
Executive Search & Business Psychologist
We would like to thank Sébastien Vannier, Alicia Prager, Adrien Le Coärer, Katharina Kloss, Kait Bolongaro, Katarzyna Piasecka and Alice Cases
for their help and support in assembling the reportage project, as well as Christiane Lötsch, Ines Fernau, Yvonne Röttgers, Zofia Dziewanowska-
Stefańczyk, Christian Schnalzger, Rebecca Dora Kajos, Fleur Grelet, Alice Grinand, Mathias Markl, Lucie Chamlian and Kamil Exner for their
fantastic contributions to our online magazine. We would also like to thank Thomas Krüger, Miriam Vogel and Daniel Kraft from the German Federal
Agency for Civic Education (Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung/bpb) who made this reportage project possible through their financial support.
DANIELSTÄCHEL IN
Davis , Cal ifornia
Translator & journalist
EVAPROSKE
Vienna
Freelance journalist
MARTINMASKA
Vienna/C hote b or
Treasurer for European Youth Press (EYP),
documentary filmmaker
EMILIAWANAT
C racow
Freelance journalist
RÓŻAROZMUS
Warsaw
Student (Applied Linguistics)
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CONTRUBUTORS & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS