ATLAS 07 english

ATLAS

THE WORLD IN MOTION: THE GEBRÜDER WEISS MAGAZINE

ISSUE 07

Orientation RAINER GROOTHUIS

‘Kazakhstan!’

TITUS ARNU

The last uncharted territories MELANIE MÜHL

I post, therefore I am

HARALD MARTENSTEIN

Where are you going?

FLORIAN AIGNER

The map in our minds Plus: Apocalypse now, signs of the times and the art of losing one’s way

‘There

was once upon a time a little girl whose ­father and mother were dead, and she was so poor that she no longer had any little room to live in, or bed to sleep in (…). She was, however, good and pious.’

The fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm belong to the great archetypical narratives of European culture.

They relay norms and values, moral orientation and ethical behaviour – not because virtue always wins in the end, but because the hero or heroine of the story is usually its most appealing protagonist. StarMoney, the shortest story penned by the Brothers Grimm, represents a case in point. An orphaned girl gives away almost everything she has to others in need and is handsomely rewarded for her compassion. The stars fall out of the sky as shining silver sovereigns – and the poor little girl becomes rich overnight. Poetic justice – and the stuff dreams are made of. Even today.

‘Dear

child, be good and pious, and then the good God will always protect thee, and I will look down on thee from heaven and be near thee.’

The social constellations of many fairy tales might well seem familiar to modern-day children. Rare is the story featuring a functional family. Instead there are stepmothers who wreak havoc in their stepdaughters’ lives; irate fathers who cast spells over their offspring or banish them from their homes; and siblings who, consumed by jealousy, are bitter enemies – in other words, constellations that offer opportunities for identification. Cinderella’s fate is worse than most: a wicked stepmother and her daughters humiliate the child from the father’s first marriage, whose birth mother has died. Cowed and bowed, the child dutifully does everything asked of her, until one fine day she succumbs to an impulse – and meets her prince charming at a ball. She has done everything right.

4 ATLAS

‘But

the King grew angry and said, “He who helped thee when thou wert in trouble ought not afterwards to be despised by thee”.’

The Brothers Grimm envisioned their collection of fairy tales serving an educational purpose. Since that publication, several of the values addressed in the ­stories have gone out of style. Teaching children to be passive and obedient hardly seems a modern ap­proach today. And the omnipresent submissive female is happily passé.

Yet the story of the Frog King can be interpreted ­as ­a complex narrative about emancipation. In the beginning the princess only attends to the insistent frog out of obedience to her father, until she finally revolts and slams it against a wall – puberty in the fast lane. Yet it is not until she has matured to this point that the princess realises just who the intruder is: a fine, handsome prince. We all know how the story ends …

Josef Prem’s strength lies in good ideas that make everyday life easier. As a team leader at the Wels site in Austria, he allocates staff when trucks have docked at the warehouse bays and makes sure that the goods are unloaded properly. He is always ready and willing to help his colleagues and ­company – unless he happens to have a day off, ­when he can usually be found hiking.

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tars, compasses and changing world views – when it comes to finding your way, there are countless aids and tools. Finding out where we are and deciding where we want to go have become two of humankind’s chief preoccupations. For the ­seventh issue of Atlas we have looked at situations where people choose to follow a particular direction.

What did mariners use to navigate in former times?

How do young people find their way today? And can’t getting lost have its benefits too?

We report from Kazakhstan along the Silk Road and about the last uncharted areas of the globe. And about the final days of the human race, whenever that may be. But wherever you may happen to be and whichever path you opt to take today, always keep on the move. Because that’s what really counts.

Best wishes Gebrüder Weiss

DISSATISFIED

SATISFIED

Following the Brexit referendum, the mood among British consumers fell to its lowest ebb in three years. The consumer confidence index from the country’s research institute YouGov and Centre for Economics and Business Research (CEBR ) fell mid-year by almost five points to:

When asked ‘Would you recommend Gebrüder Weiss?’ The following percentages replied in the affirmative:

106.6

2014: 96.33 %

‘Yes’

2016: 97.51 %

Source: FAZ

Source: GW Customer Satisfaction Survey 2016

uNDER THE MOUNTAINS

PRINTER POLL

The Gotthard Base Tunnel will shorten journeys by 31 km and 50 minutes.

Freight trains per day:

The consultants Ernst & Young surveyed 900 companies from 12 industries about their use of 3D printers. The new technology is used by:

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Previous route through mountains: New 2016/2017 schedule: at least

240

16%

37%

of companies asked in the US

24%

of companies asked in Germany

of companies asked in China and South Korea Source: Logistik Heute

Source: dvz.de

GRIDLOCKED In 2015, the average time spent in traffic jams declined in the majority of the 13 European countries analysed by Inrix.

The traffic data provider attributes this to the continent’s stagnating economy, with the gross domestic product only rising by 0.3 per cent in the second half of the year.

Countries where drivers spent longest in traffic jams

Most congested European cities

Belgium

44 hrs

London

101 hrs

Netherlands

39 hrs

Stuttgart

73 hrs

Germany

38 hrs

Antwerp

71 hrs

Luxembourg

33 hrs

Cologne

71 hrs

5 Switzerland

30 hrs

5 Brussels

70 hrs

Source: inrix.com

OVER WATER A third bridge connecting the Asian and European parts of Istanbul has been completed over the Bosphorus. The 1.4 km long suspension bridge has eight lanes for road traffic and two tracks for high-speed trains. Height of pylons: 320 metres. Height of the pylons in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge: 227 metres. Source: thenextweb.com

H: 320 m

H: 227 m

THROUGH THE CANAL

At the start of July, a few days after the opening of the expanded Panama Canal, the cargo ship ‘MOL Benefactor’ paid the highest transit fee to date for its passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.

The cost to the Japanese shipping company Mitsui O.S.K . Lines:

829,468 US dollars Source: VerkehrsRundschau

TOWARDS THE SUN

UNDER WATER To reduce the strain on existing ferry services, Norway is planning a 4,083 metre tunnel link through the Sognefjord between Kristiansand and Trondheim. The tunnel elements will be suspended from floating pontoons some 30 metres ­below the surface. Its completion is not ­expected before 2035. Current travel time between the two cities: approx.

21 hours. Projected travel time through the new tunnel system: ­approx. 10 hours.

Source: thenextweb.com

L: 4,083 m

The Munich-based company Sono Motors has developed an electric car that can use solar cells attached to the bodywork to recharge itself.

Like conventional electrical vehicles, it can also be charged from a power socket. The six-seater is expected to sell for an affordable 16,000 euros or below. A crowdfunding campaign has just been started to prepare for its mass market launch, with test drives available from 2017 and delivery of the first models expected in 2018: www.indiegogo.com Sun-powered driving per day:

30 km

The world in motion:

Rainer Groothuis

martin kaluza

‘Kazakhstan!’

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10

Daniel schachinger s

Highways and byways

Stars, Compass, GPS – the seafaring of yesteryear and today

29

Update

31

andreas Uebele

The same only different

56

florian aigner s 32 The map in our minds

family fun

iulia dodu s 35 Head in the clouds

melanie Mühl s 38 I post, therefore I am

perspectives

Blazing one’s own trail, somehow

41

till hein s 44 Discovering the unexpected titus arnu

48 The last uncharted ­territories

Captain Ferdi’s treasure hunt

60

62

Orange network jens mühling

till turning after all S these years

64

Tatia Skhirtladze

Eastbound connections: Thonet Stories

70

harald martenstein

Where are you going?

71

‘Kazakhstan!’ About a great big country, global visions and yi dai yi lu

Children having fun in Almaty: Riding scooters in Fantasialand

View of the Pik Talgar

‘Kazakhstan!’ 13

‘The republic is young, as is its people.’

reportage: Rainer Groothuis The gem The arrow-straight, multi-lane roads stretch on and on. The city is green, the sky blue, the mountains close. You can see them from almost everywhere: the white crowns worn all year long by Pik Talgar that rises 4,900 metres. The mood is lively and loud, the cafés and restaurants are packed; the cuisine on offer is as polyglot as the unremitting soundtrack of international pop. The nightlife is reputed to count among the most exciting in Central Asia. Welcome to Almaty. Some 1.7 million inhabitants make it the largest and most cosmopolitan city in Kazakhstan.

The republic is young, as is its populace; in contrast to many European nations, the majority is under 30. People marry at an early age, the family is the universal safety net, the grandmother, the patriarch. More than 70 per cent of Kazakhs follow the Islamic faith and celebrate its official holidays, yet live secular everyday lives. The children are full of beans, charming and curious; girls and boys laugh and crow as they play their hearts out in the parks and spacious squares; skateboards are as at home here as BMX bikes and skaters. The clothes worn by the children, teens and tweens are brands like H & M and Zara: the kids want to be as hip, chic and cool as their peers all over the world. Young women clad in the traditional, vividly hued wraps and scarves are rare; veiling is an even rarer sight.

This backdrop of easy-going life includes numerous street musicians: an accordion player with a lopsided mouth but a mellifluous voice, a shy guitarist at the tube station, a saxo-

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1 The Christian Church 2 An array of musicians add colour to the city’s streets 3 The ubiquitous smartphones 4 Grandmothers call the tune at the stalls in the Green Market too 5 The Kasteev Museum 6 Fashions in the bazaar 7 The monument to Panifilov’s 28 Guardsmen 8 The spires of Hotel Kazakhstan 9 Advertising with ­western faces 10 The bazaar sells ­absolutely everything

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phone player in black sports gear. Everyone gives them something, even if it’s the tiniest of coins.

Almaty is Kazakhstan’s mecca for media and trade fairs.

The first few underground stations have been completed, the stock exchange is up and running, the country’s oldest circus is as popular as ever. In the ‘Park of 28 Panfilov Guardsmen’, where a colossal monument and an eternal flame memorialise the fallen heroes of the Great Patriotic War, the colourful wooden Ascension Cathedral gleams in the sunlight.

Unfortunately, the air is rather heavy: the diesel is different to the fuel used in Europe, and many of the cars that once careered around – and retired in – the West have gained a new lease on life here. Some of the rattletrap trucks are so loud and so old that one might suspect they were screwed together

by Khrushchev, if not Stalin. But when the air gets too close, ­people head out to the local Yssykköl Lake to enjoy the sun and a swim, or go hiking in the nearby mountains.

‘This city is Kazakhstan’s gem’, says Timur Akhmetkaziyev, Managing Director of GW in Almaty. He is proud of his ­hometown’s role. Many of the thousands of young Kazakhs that the city sends off to universities around the world – to Ger­many, the US and Canada, to Japan, Russia and elsewhere – have found good jobs upon returning and are helping shape the liberal mindset: in Almaty, people know how to enjoy life. The desired affiliation and identification with a western world is mirrored in the advertising as well: the faces and family mo­tifs with the strongest selling potential are strictly European.

Notwithstanding the pervasive global vibe, local life ­centres around the ‘Green Market’, Almaty’s main bazaar that stocks everything under the sun. The meat hall sells beef,

mutton and horsemeat; other halls and stalls offer fruit, vegetables, spices, silver jewellery, and all manner of arts and crafts. Here you will find purveyors of undergarments from the top international brands; here is where you buy dishwashing liquid, dolls, dresses, aprons, scarves, pots and pans … and your son’s very first suit. The bazaar is not quite as magical as the ones conjured up in Arabian Nights, but the air is fragrant with the promise of the wide, wild world – and it too is on hand. Russians comprise a strong minority, flanked by other peoples and nationalities: Uyghur, Mongolian, German, ­Tartar, Bashkir, Ingush and many more. The mosque and the Russian Orthodox church, the synagogue and the Catholic cathedral all house congregations that have long co-existed in peace.

The country is probing its cultural legacy, seeking a great unifier for this first-time-ever independent nation that was not founded until 1991. Its journey of self-discovery is traced in the Kasteev Museum, named after Abilkhan Kasteev ­(1904–1973), a highly decorated painter in the former Soviet People’s Republic of Kazakhstan. It is packed with artifacts like carpets, shawls, jewellery and leather goods; chock-full of old paintings extolling the freedom of outdoor life, complete with yurts, steppes, equestrians, skies and strong winds. Not to forget the triumph of reason, i. e. the industrialisation wrought by the Russians. The artwork on display here celebrates the Russian Revolution, the kolkhoz and the collective. A young Kazakh member of Komsomol, the Communist Youth Party Organisation, beams in humble gratitude upon being tutored by his Soviet commissar. The many artistic renderings of ‘Social Realism’ still hanging in the Kasteev testify to an age in which the world was explained in simple, unforgiving terms:

16 ‘Kazakhstan!’

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1 Proud father, proud grandmother 2 | 3 In the bazaar the old folk foster traditions,

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‘Communism is Soviet power plus electri­fication’ (Lenin). What these pictures don’t show: the Bolsheviks may have brought the railway, roads and industry. Yet between 1928 and 1933, they also mandated collective farming and forced the nomads to live in settlements. Countless people were dispossessed, deported and persuaded to emigrate. Some 1.3 million starved to death in those years. The wariness is still palpable: not all the Kazakhs trust their northern neighbour.

Contemporary art is all but absent at the Kasteev. In this temple devoted to technical artistic skill, symbols, rituals and traditions, time seems to stand still – while the future outside poses no questions about the past.

Next to me on the bus is Darin, who finally asks in English where I’m from. The wiry 12-year-old tells me about the school he so happily attends. His father is patently pleased with the boy’s English and his courage in piping up. Darin asks matterof-factly: ‘Do you like Kazakhstan?’ His smile tells me there is only one answer. Everyone seems proud of everything that has been built and accomplished in recent years, making life freer and easier.

The new On the way from the airport to the city centre: initial glimpses of a city that colourfully and casually mixes past and present: Astana.

There are halls devoted to ice-skating and bicycle racing, pressed close to the ground like two giant, glittering armadil-

on the streets the young embrace the future 4 Waiting for customers 5 Astana today

los. The evolving EXPO grounds are dominated by the spheric­ al Kazakhstani pavilion, the Nur-Astana Mosque, the brandnew classically-styled opera house, and the ‘Triumph of Astana’ christened after the ‘Triumph Palace’ in Moscow and just as gingerbreaded as its archetype.

Astana is the product of a proclamation and of perseverance. When it was declared the capital in 1997, it had barely 300,000 inhabitants, and most of what distinguishes Astana today had yet to be built. In the interim nearly 900,000 have found work here, in a cityscape gilded with all manner of such new buildings sandwiched between post-Stalinist ostentation, capitalist glass-and-steel aloofness, and exuberantly ornamental extravagance. Yet still, indisputably more cheerful and diversified than the boxy battlements that pass for modern architecture in the west.

Astana is a green city; there are many fountains, squares, parks. People stroll along the tree- and flower-lined boulevards. An ice-cream van is parked every few metres: here every­one is a gourmet when it comes to judging the best.

The EXPO grounds are under construction on Sundays, too: everything has to be finished to welcome the world in summer 2017. Kazakhstan plans to tap this opportunity to take centre stage before a global audience and attract international investors. Five million visitors are expected to attend.

In less than five years, based on plans developed by the architectural firm of Smith + Gill from Chicago, an impressive Expo City will have materialised. Its conceptualisation was

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Astana by night

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3 1 The Presidential Palace 2 Heading to the mosque for prayers 3 One of the numerous ice-cream stands 4 Almost finished: Kazakhstan’s EXPO pavilion 5 The Bayterek Tower 6 On the left, a pillar from the opera house,

in the background the ­‘Triumph Astana Hotel’ 7 Part of the ‘Austria’ exhibit at the EXPO 8 The Presidential Palace reflected in a facade

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driven exclusively by sustainability. The EXPO theme ‘Future Energy: Action for Global Sustainability’ is all about ensuring safe and sustainable access to energy in the developing countries, and transitioning from fossil fuels to renewable energy sources.

The fact that Astana was chosen to host the EXPO demonstrates how far Kazakhstan and its policymakers have come – not by positioning themselves among the world’s leaders, but by playing the role of moderator and partner, capable of leveraging interests and opportunities. The Americans are mining mineral resources, the EU is the largest trade partner, Kazakhstan cooperates with Russia in the Eurasian Economic Union.

China now controls around one third of the country’s natural resources and is buying into the agricultural business of this country that measures 2.7 million square kilometres, making it the world’s ninth largest state.

In light of all this, one of the pet projects pursued by President Nursultan Nazarbayev (christened ‘Leader of the Nation’ by parliament), who has been governing since the proclamation of the independent Republic of Kazakhstan, is the renaissance of the Silk Road.

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‘The belt, the road’ Traversed centuries before Christ, the world’s oldest trade route has become a major global project of our age.

Silk was a highly coveted commodity back then, a badge of power and prosperity. Semiramis, Cleopatra and other female rulers lusted after its lustre; at his games, Caeser used it to canopy the arenas of Rome as a sign of his boundless capabilities.

Yet it was not only about silk and it was not only one road.

The Silk Road, or rather the network of routes to which the catch-all refers, connected far-flung regions of the known world, serving until well into the fourteenth century not only as the conduit for ceramics, paper, tea and other myriad goods, but also as a channel along which arts and sciences, inventions and technology, diseases and religions could spread between Europe and Asia. Its travellers were traders, preachers, thinkers. In fact, the first Chinese circus took this route to Rome during the age of Christ.

The journey was endless and arduous: thousands of kilometres on horses, on one- and two-humped camels – or on foot. Once you reached the Tarim Basin and the Taklamakan

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Desert, you were surrounded by the world’s loftiest mountain ranges: to the north, the Tianshan; to the west Pamir; Karakorum in the southwest and Kunlun in the south. Only a few narrow paths led through the mountains that, with their plunging gorges and towering peaks rising 5,000 metres and more, number among the world’s most insurmountable. And all these toilsome ventures were undertaken in constant fear of attacks, plagued by unrelenting anxiety about the fate of one’s goods – and life.

When, in 1497/98, Vasco da Gama discovered a sea route to India that both reduced the risk of being ambushed and saved traders the Arabian customs duties, the Silk Road ultimately lost its significance – until the end of the nineteenth century, when Sven Hedin and others began to launch major expeditions to explore the ancient routes.

Today the People’s Republic of China is driving the revitalisation of a European-Asian road network into new dimensions. China’s president Xi Jinping said in 2015, ‘Together we need to create a regional order that is a better fit for Asia and the rest of the world’, emphasising China’s intention of playing a more influential international role. The renaissance of the

22 ‘Kazakhstan!’

Few roads lead through the rural expanses in which men guard their horses, cows and sheep, the dead find their rest, and children with ­donkey-drawn carts transport vegetables.

Silk Road is the logical consequence of China’s economic and geopolitical interests. It also dovetails with the inner-Chinese ‘Go-west strategy’ (see Atlas 02) designed to push the economic development of the Middle Kingdom’s western reaches.

China has already poured more than 40 billion USD into a fund for the project yi dai yi lu – ‘One Belt, One Road’, as the new Silk Road initiative is called. To complement this, China has founded the ‘Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank’ with nearly 60 participating nations, among them Austria and Germany.

The plan foresees a route through central Asia and a northern course along the existing Trans-Siberian Railway, as well as a southern branch that is to link India, Laos and Myanmar.

This new Silk Road will create unprecedented links between Asia, Eurasia, the Middle East and Europe. The proposed transport routes extend some 140,000 (!) kilometres: three and a half times the length of the equator.

A road-and-rail mix with new junctions is to evolve, with its economic fruits benefitting entire regions. Kashgar in ­China, Khorgos in Kazakhstan and Gwadar in Pakistan are but a few.

And China, the world’s major seapower in the fifteenth century, aims to supplement this initiative with a ‘maritime Silk Road’, a network of ocean routes, ports and naval bases.

24 ‘Kazakhstan!’

Poor, rich, beautiful At 7 am sharp Vladimir knocks on the door: a Russian Kazakh who speaks as little English as yours truly does Russian, and a journey of few words and many gestures begins. We are heading for Khorgos, a trip of some 380 kilometres.

Out in the countryside, we glimpse the other face of Kazakhstan: underdeveloped, unemployed, impoverished. We drive through villages with only one asphalt road – ours, the main thoroughfare – and pass rumbling, donkey-drawn carts; children, women and the elderly sit in the shade and sell ­whatever grows on their land: melons, apples, potatoes. This is where the old crouch and stare, the people who never had anything, side by side with the young who will never get much of anything. The scepticism is writ large on their faces: what will this foreigner bring? There is a yawning social and cultural gap between city and country, urban and rural. A quarter cenRoad through the Altyn-Emel National Park – to Khorgos where the dry port has already opened.

tury of independence and a market economy are simply not enough to close it.

We traverse the Altyn-Emel National Park, one of 16 such national reserves. It measures 4,600 square kilometres, i.e. five times the size of Berlin and a dozen times the size of ­Vienna. This stretch of land is home to the Siberian ibex, the Persian gazelle and Central Asian argali. This is where Przewalski’s horse was resettled, along with the Bukhara deer.

Signs warn of wild horses crossing the road. And the Kazakhstan cow loves to dawdle just around corners; several times Vladimir saves us from collisions by slamming on the brakes.

‘Kazakhstan!’, he curses, commenting yet again on anything he finds unexpected. And that is in no short supply.

Altyn-Emel offers a wonderful sampling of the ecological and geological diversity in this huge, virtually uninhabited land. It is rich in resources like crude oil and natural gas, gold,

‘Kazakhstan!’ 25

manganese, rare mineral ores and much more; there are the White and the Red Mountains, steppes, river-bank forests.

A narrow asphalt road threads through this region, in which you rarely encounter another human being, notwithstanding the occasional car or an overloaded truck every 15 minutes or so. We pass necropoles with listing monuments; the hills and mountains are spelled by plains and never-ending amber waves of grain. A shepherd boy drives his herd on horseback, the haystacks piled on the fields could be sleeping bison, the scent of dried chocolate rises from the steppe …

Rocks, hills, mountains exhibit changing formations and manifestations – some are sharp-featured like old, distinctive faces; other are pleasant, with plump cheeks. Those heaps of boulders could be the beard-stubbled visages of ancient titans … And when the clouds rain down their contents on the mountaintops and their whitewater mist clings to the cliffs,

when the sun dons its flaming opera gown of an evening and cloaks the land anew in dramatically romantic hues, one ­suddenly has a new appreciation of the pictures hanging in the Kargeev, telling as they do of the boundless freedom that reigns here in this incomparable naturescape.

What a country! What a landscape! Kazakhstan has 4,000 lakes; steppes and desert cover some 44 per cent of the land mass; the perpetually snow-capped summits rise to staggering heights of 7,000 metres … as though evolution had here created a template for the world – and found it blessed and beautiful.

New network, new hubs Finally the vista opens on Khorgos, the new economic zone shared with China at their common border. Covering nearly 6,000 hectares, roughly the size of Salzburg, it is freely acces-

26 ‘Kazakhstan!’

Containers have to be ­reloaded ­because of the different track gauges – the gantry cranes in Khorgos.

sible to both countries – and offers a wide-ranging catalogue of tax breaks to the companies that settle here and create jobs.

We meet up with Togzhan Mussirova and Daniyar Mussirov. They both work in the communication department of JSC Management Company, which is in charge of the ‘Khorgos Eastern Gate’. Both are around 30 and were born in Almaty; they met in London, fell in love and are now married. They are excited to be part of this project, deeply committed to its aims and confident of its success. A central transit hub within the new Silk Road network is evolving here, an economic zone which, within the space of a few years, will generate 50,000 jobs – in warehouse management, manufacturing, lo­gistics and IT. As one of the country’s pivotal infrastructure projects, ‘Khorgos Eastern Gate’ will power the entire region.

Togzhan and Daniyar are happy to show us the progress to date. The dry port is already in operation, the hub where containers are lifted off the trains coming from China and loaded directly onto Kazakh European trains and vice-versa; the switch is necessitated by the different track gauges. The dry port can already move more than 500,000 TEU containers a year; in the long-term, it will be able to handle more than a million annually. The areas devoted to warehousing and final production are also finished and ready to hand over to the companies that will use them, as is the long stretch of motorway between China, Khorgos and Almaty that merely needs to be connected at this point. A residential area housing some 110,000 people is also planned.

‘He who drives his horse too hard will need to walk in the end’ is a Kazahkstan proverb. But the country intends to maintain the pace of its economic growth – with the goal of catching up with the ‘First World’ nations. And in this race, yi dai yi lu plays a major and promising role – and Kazahkstan’s cola already tastes better than the original American recipe.

Rainer Groothuis, born in 1959 in Emden / East ­Friesland, is managing partner at the communications agency ‘Groothuis’. www.groothuis.de With special thanks to Timur Akhmetkaziyev, ­Vladimir Sibryayev, Togzhan Mussirova and Daniyar Mussirov.

»Kasachstan!« 27 ATLAS 27

28 et cetera: Kazakhstan

Kazakhstan Kazakhstan connects the continents of Europe and Asia. Its territory extends from the Volga Uplands and Caspian Sea in the west to well into the Altai Mountains bordering China in the east – making it the world’s largest landlocked country. It has a continental climate consisting of warm, dry summers and ice-cold winters, during which temperatures can fall below –40°C. The Kazakhs are regarded as a hospitable people, above all in poorer and more rural regions.

russia

capital

Astana inhabitants

17,737,000 official language

Kazakh (national language) Russian (second official language)

Astana

mongolia

kazakhstan

population density

7 inhabitants per km2 Almaty

Khorgos

Life expectancy

uzbekistan kyrgyzstan

caspian sea

china turkmenistan

tajikistan

Men: 64.66 years Women: 74.88 years

‘Bridging Europe and Asia’ Gebrüder Weiss expands competences along the Silk Road

Timur Akhmetkaziyev, Ailyana Aletova, Alim Kulmagambetov, Irina Strelnikova and ­Alexandr Milashenko (from left)

TOO Gebrüder Weiss UI. Maylina 79, 050054 Almaty, Kazakhstan T +7.727.300.46.80, F +7.727.300.46.81 timur.akhmetkaziyev@gw-world.com www.gw-world.com/eastplus

Oriri is a verb in Latin that means arise or rise. The word Orient therefore denotes the direction from where the sun rises. All stars rise in the eastern half of our skies; churches are often built with the altars facing eastwards: in this way, they are orientated. Sunflowers turn their heads towards the east of a morning to absorb the maximum amount of sunshine – ex oriente lux, the light comes from the east.

And indeed: a new dawn is breaking in the east. Parallel to the Chinese government’s ‘One Belt, One Road’ infrastructure improvement programme, ­Gebrüder Weiss is expanding its services along the Silk Road, thereby creating ­access to the growth markets of central Asia. The historical trading route, after all, offers great potential for both European and Asian companies. As early as 2016, Gebrüder Weiss began operating in Almaty, Kazakhstan. The subsidiary’s

managing director is the 35-year-old Timur Akhmetkaziyev, who spent six years studying in Germany and the US. ‘The Silk Road will spark huge changes and an economic boom’, he asserts.

The completion of the motorway will also help. With the journey from China to A ­ lmaty being cut by some 40 per cent, he is expecting plenty of good new business.

As a specialist for trade between China and Europe, Gebrüder Weiss o ­ ffers holistic transport and logistics solutions.

In our own numerous locations along the Silk Road, employees familiar with local practices, languages and c­ ustoms ensure that everything runs smoothly.

As a result, routes between the Orient and Occident will not only be shorter.

Delivery will also be speedier and, above all, e ­ xtremely re­liable. ­Further information can be found on www.gw-world. com/silkroad

et cetera: Kazakhstan 29

Highways and byways Daniel Schachinger’s campaign ‘roadshow’

interview: Miriam Holzapfel

O

n April 4, the eve of the International Day of Mine Awareness, Daniel Schachinger embarked on his trip from Vienna to Southeast Asia. Not in an aircraft, and not even in a car – he set off with the goal of covering the 18,000 kilometres to Burma on a bicycle! His purpose was to draw attention to a hidden danger, one that above all concerns hundreds of thousands of residents along the Silk Road: the countless landmines and unexploded bombs lying just beneath the topsoil in these countries. On the website betterplace.org Schachinger is ­collecting donations for the Austrian charity GGL (Gemeinsam gegen ­Landminen). We interviewed Daniel Scha­chinger as he arrived in the city of Khorugh, Tajikistan.

Some people cycle to work. You are ­cycling to Asia. What kind of bike are you riding?

I’m using a special touring bike frame

with luggage racks on the front and back. The main difference between this frame and a normal bicycle is its especially robust construction; it also has multiple options for attaching bags.

Beyond that the bike only has basic and standard components like gears and brakes that are both simple to repair and easy to replace – with spare parts I can get in most places en route.

Presumably you’ve only taken the bare essentials with you. What would they be?

Luggage is a real issue. I have to carry everything I need for riding in deserts, mountain ranges and for the colder

months of the year in general. So I need plenty of clothes, plus a tent and sleeping bag designed for low temperatures.

I’ve still reduced everything to a minimum: two briefs, two pairs of socks, two T-shirts, a pair of shorts and long trousers, and performance wear for cold and rainy weather. I also have a mini kitchen including a small camp stove so that I can cook for myself on the road. That’s pretty much it!

Travelling light is presumably a blessing at border crossings. Or do you ­simply sail through?

Borders aren’t really a problem at all.

But, of course, you always get lots of questions because cyclists are so few and far between. In Central Asian countries, your luggage also gets picked through every time, and the photos on

Following the Sagirdash Pass on the Pamir Highway, once one of the key ­sections of the Silk Road

30 ET CETERA: Kazakhstan

Daniel Schachinger at the Kop Gecidi mountain pass which runs 2,302 metres above sea level in Turkey.

Together Against L andmines

GGL Austria is an Austrian aid organisation that is approved for donations in Austria.

Information on GGL’s work can be found at www.landmine.at. At betterplace.org Daniel Schachinger is narrating his fascinating experiences en route from Europe to Asia.

Gebrüder Weiss is supporting his campaign.

my cellphone get checked. So the inspections are quite rigorous, but they always pass without problems. So far I haven’t had to pay any bribes, at least as far as I know.

You’re currently crossing the Pamir Mountains. What are the road conditions like?

The conditions here are really rough, I’d have to say. I’m riding along the M41 main road from the Tajikistani capital Dushanbe to Osch in Kyrgyzstan. Once upon a time this road was asphalted but because it is so exposed, and given the natural environment, much of it is now pretty rundown. Repeated landslides,

avalanches and floods make it all but impossible to keep up with repairs. So splintering tarmac through to stony or sandy tracks are the order of the day, plus everything imaginable in between.

In general terms, I’m relatively restricted speed-wise because I often have to watch out for potholes. And stony surfaces tend to slow you down anyway.

How have you experienced the people you meet en route?

The people you encounter are always friendly – and very interesting. The ones along the Silk Road are extremely hospitable. There aren’t really any problems at all, except the language barrier. That’s the only really sad thing: it’s very difficult to communicate with the locals because hardly anybody speaks English and I don’t speak Tajik or Russian. So conversations don’t tend to last long.

But people generally get very curious if a cyclist rides past, and they have all manner of questions. You almost always get invited into their homes for a cup of tea, a bowl of soup, or something else to eat. Some even offer you a bed for the night.

Your road trip is designed to highlight the fact that numerous countries along the old Silk Road are littered with landmines. What is it like for the inhabitants who have to live with this problem?

The landmines are in areas the villagers previously used for farming. Arable land is already scarce enough in the border region between Afghanistan and Tajikistan, with its steep hills and mountains.

‘Local

people need help to remove the landmines.’

If people are scared to enter the remaining areas because the mines make it far too dangerous, then that has a huge impact on people trying to live off the land. Not to mention a very real physical risk to their health.

What kinds of help do these people need?

For the most part, rural populations in the areas with mines have no idea of what they are up against. As a result they need first and foremost technical support and, of course, the know-how required to render the mines safe and dispose of them properly. There is an urgent need for experts who can inspect the land using metal detectors, and defuse and remove mines and unexploded bombs so that nobody else comes to harm.

Miriam Holzapfel is a cultural ­scientist and a journalist for A ­ TLAS .

31 et cetera: Dubai 31 Nachgelesen

ATLAS 31

Update Always up to date

As of now, the GW News app – featuring all the latest updates and developments from the orange world – is available on iTunes and at the Google Store.

Champagne opened

We are delighted to have received further awards for Gebrüder Weiss annual report 52/2015 and would like to ­express our gratitude for the recognition ­garnered in the various competitions.

Canal opened

After a construction period of nine years, the newly widened Panama Canal connecting the Pacific and Atlantic has been opened. The fifth issue of Atlas (autumn 2015) featured a ­report on the difficulties of building the original canal in 1881.

At the opening ceremony for the new Agua Clara locks in the country’s Colón province, Panama’s President Juan Carlos ­Varela described the recent expansion as ‘an historical milestone for Panama, the region and the world.’

Italy opened

A smaller-scale construction project has also been completed: in the fourth issue of Atlas (spring 2015) we presented the ­Miniature Wonderland in Hamburg, the world’s largest model railway installation. Back then, work was still continuing on the tourist attraction’s Italy section. Now it is complete, allowing visitors to experience the Vatican, Mount Vesuvius and Venice from the German port’s historical ‘warehouse city’ district. www.miniatur-wunderland.de

‘If you haven’t read a book in three days, your words will ­become shallow’, advises a Chinese proverb. Our authors are pleased to help: Jens Mühling, as you can read on page 64, is not just a connoisseur of apocalyptic scenarios; he has also accumulated some truly fantastic insights into the Russian mindset. Time and again, he has travelled this ­gigantic country and encountered striking individuals that find no equal in works of fiction.

jens Mühling A Journey Into Russia Haus Publishing

The map in our minds Are we losing our sense of direction because we rely too heavily on navigation devices? We could learn a lot from carrier pigeons, neurobiologists and the aboriginal Guugu Yimithirrs in Australia.

W

here are we? Where have we come from? Where are we heading? We ask ourselves these questions not only during sleepless nights, but in parking bays too – when our sat navs are spouting gibberish and we are desperately trying to turn crumpled old maps in the right direction.

This fate would never befall a pigeon.

To find its way it uses an additional sensory organ that can tune into the earth’s magnetic field. Scientists demonstrated this by letting them fly around inside a pitch-black laboratory – under the influence of artificial magnetic fields created by large solenoids. The doves had no ­difficulty identifying the magnetic field lines and finding their way about. Nobody knows exactly how they manage this. For a long time scientists assumed that specific cells in their beaks functioned as magnetic sensors, but closer

examination revealed that they were part of the immune system.

Irrespective of how exactly pigeons ‘home’, we human beings need to manage without a built-in biocompass, and most of us seem to cope pretty well. As with many other personal skills, practice makes perfect when it comes to finding the right direction.

For that very reason, becoming totally dependent on technology is not a sustainable strategy. Individuals who stop training their sense of direction will ultimately lose it – warns Roger McKinlay, an expert on satellite navigation and ­ex-president of the UK’s Royal Institute of Navigation. Just as we still learn arithmetic despite the invention of pocket calculators, schools should still teach map-reading and orientation skills, says McKinlay.

Taxi driving is mind training Neurological research appears to back him up. In a study of the brains of London taxi drivers, scientists discovered an unusual abnormality: their hippo­ campi, sections of cerebral matter near the temples, were particularly well developed. Constant training in the ­British capital’s labyrinthine street network ­appears to strengthen specific structural features of the brain.

It has long been known that the hip­ po­campus plays a key role in orientation.

the map in our minds 33

Animals that depend on their sense of direction often exhibit enlargement.

These include squirrels that need to remember where they have stored their winter food.

Back in 1971, the neuroscientist John O’Keefe demonstrated that individual cells in the hippocampi of rats become active when they pass particular locations. It appears that they have something comparable to a map inside their brains. Decades later the man-and-wife research team May-Britt and Edvard Moser successfully decoded other key features of our ‘cerebral map’: in the entorhinal cortex, a region closely linked with the hippocampus, they found a cerebral phenomenon similar to GPS coordinates.

The Mosers investigated how and why the brain cells of rats repeatedly activated as the animals meandered aimlessly across a room. They noted the rats’ exact positions every time a cell ‘fired’. And the experiment revealed an

astonishing geometrical pattern: when they connected the locations at which a specific brain cell became active, the ­result was a regular pattern consisting of equilateral triangles.

These built-in coordinates forming a grid inside their heads help the rodents find their way about. Whenever a rat passes a particular node in this grid, a certain brain cell activates. This system might be compared to the gridlines on a map. But whereas these lines form squares and right-angles, the brain appears to prefer triangular and hexagonal matrixes. For their achievements, John O’Keefe and the Mosers were jointly awarded the Nobel Prize for Medicine in 2014.

Does Australia’s native Guugu ­Yimithirr tribe undercut Western philo­sophy?

Nevertheless it would be wrong to consider our sense of direction as an ex­ clusive product of a very specific and ­localised part of our grey matter. Our perception of space is very closely intertwined with other mental capabilities – even with speech.

Top–bottom, front–back, left–right: those are the three planes in which we navigate and they seem absolutely selfevident to us. Indeed, we might even ­assume that human beings are incapable of thinking otherwise, that the dimensions are the kind of immutable fixtures within our cognitive faculties that the philosopher Immanuel Kant described as a given. However, for some peoples on our planet, concepts like ‘left’ and ‘right’ have no meaning whatsoever.

The Guugu Yimithirr call Queensland in the Australian outback their home. They do not use subjective positional terms such as right and left, terms whose meaning depends on the way they happen to be facing. Instead, they reference absolute and objective locations: the points of the compass. They might therefore say ‘the cup is in the southern corner of the westernmost ­table’. And when asking somebody to make space, they might ask them to move ‘a bit further east’!

This even impacts people’s body language when they talk: if a European tells the same story twice in different places, he or she will illustrate it using similar gestures and hand movements. By contrast, a Guugu Yimithirr fisherman whose boat capsizes, forcing him to swim past sharks to the land, would point in various directions – west, north, whatever.

And if he tells the same tale again the following day and is facing another

34 the map in our minds

­ irection, he will automatically adjust d his arm movements to reflect his stance.

The linguist Stephen Levinson experienced something similar among the Tzeltal people in the Mexican state of Chiapas. They have anatomical concepts to describe their left and right arms, but no self-respecting Tzeltali would dream of applying this distinction to objects and their relative positions. ‘The ball is to the left of the tree’ is simply untranslatable in their language. Instead the Tzeltali too cite the points of the compass.

Of course, speech patterns like this are impossible unless the speakers and listeners always know their position and orientation. Researchers tested the spatial awareness of the Guugu Yimithirr by taking them to locations where their view outside was obscured, and asking them to point in specific directions. They responded without hesitation; any inaccuracies were minimal. They evidently have no difficulty adjusting the intuitive map in their heads at every twist and turn of their journey.

‘To show the direction, please press the key in the east.’

Could this very difference – between the relative ‘left-to-right’ and the absolute ‘west-to-east’ and ‘north-to-south’ axes – play a key role in our sense of ­direction? As everyone understands, learning to find our way around an unknown city is easier if we regularly ­consult a map and refer to the points of the compass. Simply following somebody else, occasionally heading left and occasionally right, is likely to culminate in bewilderment. Perhaps we should ­adjust our GPS devices to reflect this

fact?

The educational psychologist Stefan Münzer performed some interesting experiments on this subject: he dispatched test persons into the same area with different sat navs. Some of the devices had gridbased maps showing streets, names and boundaries; others had a road map that was constantly updated to reflect their current position, and provided instructions on when to turn left or right – just like the majority of today’s GPS devices for cars.

The people with the moving maps made fewer errors – this mode is easiest to use – but learned little about the test area’s ­ge­ography. If, like carrier pigeons, we navigate by the points of the compass, we occasionally take the wrong turn. However, this is the best way to create a map in our minds that we can consult time and again.

If they were trying to find an unknown destination, how would the Guugu Yimithirr or the Tzeltal in Mexico respond if a competent- and friendly-sounding computer voice instructed them to ‘turn left in 50 metres’?

Presumably they would simply shake their heads, switch off the device, and ask somebody the way. And that, most likely, would not be the worst of all possible solutions.

Florian Aigner was born in 1979.

He has a doctorate in quantum physics and works as a science communicator at the Technical University of Vienna. In addition to working as a journalist, he de­ votes his time to advancing ­rational, ­scientific thought and campaigning against esoteric ­superstition.

GW employee Iulia Dodu provides insights into her climbs – and how mountaineering helps her in everyday life

e H

l c o u e h t d

n ad i

s

36 head in the clouds

text: Judith Gebhardt-Dörler

I

ulia Dodu knows exactly where she is heading: as high as possible! She works in the Logistics Solutions department at Gebrüder Weiss Bucharest and spends much of her free time scaling Europe’s loftiest peaks. In the summer of 2015 she reached the top of Mont Blanc (4,810 metres) and Gran Paradiso (4,061 metres). And this year she has already climbed the Triglav (2,864 metres), Slovenia’s tallest mountain, and the 3,789-metre-high Grossglockner in the Austrian Alps. We spoke to her about her challenging hobby.

‘Up there I discover aspects of our planet that you never see otherwise.’

You devote a lot of time to your passion, mountaineering. What does the sport give you back?

After the effort of climbing a mountain, Iulia Dodu was born on July 23 1988 in Bucharest.

Alongside climbing, she also enjoys ­hiking and mountain-biking. Her partner joins her on every outing.

2006–2007

work as an estate agent 2007–2012

dispatcher at Lekkerland Convenience 2009

Study Business Management Commerce at ‘Dimitrie Cantemir’ University of Bucharest 2011

Masters Degree 2012

Started working at GW Romania as a customer representative in the Logistics Solutions team; team coordinator

standing on the top is an almost indescribably beautiful experience. I love the natural, pristine character of the surroundings up there, I enjoy the vista, the sense of adventure. The feeling of awe I have for the mountains simply keeps growing. Up there I discover aspects of our planet that you never see otherwise.

And although it’s the unspoiled environment that excites me more than the physical effort, the ability to complete such a feat really does make you feel great. So, for me, it’s also about pushing myself to my limits. The thought of scaling Mont Blanc was enough to scare me; after all, it’s over 4,000 metres high! I’m aware of the dangers involved, of all the things that can happen to you.

I have often asked myself whether I am up to the task. But when I finally reached the peak, I felt incredibly liberated and – despite the exhaustion – just bubbling with energy. And that’s how things are at the end of every climb: afterwards I feel stronger and more capable than ever.

How do you prepare?

Mont Blanc was my first big ascent and, before I set out, I had to buy myself the

equipment necessary: crampons, rope, an ice pick, helmet and so on. Then I spent several days attending a course on alpine mountaineering, learning how to use them properly. I was trained in the use of crampons, in some basic climb­ ing techniques, and in how to move efficiently in a team held together by a rope – maintaining the right rhythm is absolutely vital when traversing slopes in a group. I learned how to cross glaciers, to watch out for ice crevices, and trial bivouacked in a snow cave I built myself. I also keep myself fit riding a mountain bike.

What’s your favourite mountain?

That’s difficult to say. There are special experiences and stories I associate with every mountain I climb. Of course, reaching the top of Mont Blanc is absolutely unforgettable. I was standing at the highest point in western Europe and embraced the sensation of com­plete freedom I felt; that was absolutely unique. The ascent of the Gran Paradiso in Italy seemed never-ending because I couldn’t see the top. By way of compensation we had a fabulous view of the Mont Blanc massif and what seemed like thousands of peaks. You can’t help loving the Triglav in Slovenia thanks to its via ferrata – even amateur climbers can attach themselves to the steel rope running up the mountainside and feel relatively safe. But the Grossglockner probably means most to me, especially the approach from the Kleinglockner.

It’s a wonderful mountain that left me almost overwhelmed by emotion. I was totally ex­hilarated, pumped up with adrenaline.

What part does the weather play on the mountains?

You never know what to expect, particularly up in the higher reaches. Of course, everything is much easier if the sun is shining and visibility is high. But there have been numerous occasions when we have set out under cloudless skies in warm temperatures, only to be engulfed in blizzards as we near the top. But all in all the weather gods have been kind

A good place for a flag: Iulia Dodu on the peak of the Triglav, a mountain whose distinctive shape makes it easy to spot from over 100 km away.

to us – apart from on Mont Blanc. That day the weather was so bad that we couldn’t even leave our base until 11 am.

We only really wanted to explore the mountain a bit but ended up changing our minds and biting the bullet. Five hours later and 1,000 metres higher, we did actually reach the summit. Of course, it’s always a shame if you have spent weeks or months preparing for a climb, and then have to abandon the attempt because the weather won’t play along. But safety always comes first.

Unpredictable weather isn’t the only risk faced by mountaineers. Can you think of a situation where you felt frightened?

There was a moment during the last climb on the Grossglockner: although we were there in June, there was far too much new snow for that time of year.

It was warm and the snow started melting. I felt unsure of myself, got nervous and began to have doubts. For a moment there I considered giving up and turning back. But what would that have meant

for the rest of my team? Wouldn’t they have been forced to abandon the climb too? Thoughts like these really helped me get a grip on my fear and keep going.

‘I have learned how to take account of others’ needs and to be patient.’

There were tricky situations too on the Triglav where I had to really concentrate – one wrong step could have meant disaster. On Mont Blanc, crossing the Grand Couloir gully with its constant rockfalls made me a bit nervous. But, thank goodness, I have never encountered a really dangerous situation where I was unable to cope. Keeping your cool as best you can is crucial in predicaments like this.

On the subject of ‘keeping your cool’ – do your exploits on the mountains help you in everyday life too?

Absolutely. Mountaineering gives me strength, energy and a feeling of secu-

rity. There are often situations at work which I don’t find easy, and then my hobby comes to my rescue. I think of how difficult things have been at times but how I have ultimately always persevered and reached my goal. That’s my template for challenges in everyday life: I master them one step at a time. What’s more, all of my climbing has been in teams, and this has made me more aware of how people interact. I have learned how to take account of others’ needs and to be patient. There are often occasions – on mountains and in everyday life – when a team member is struggling. You have to adapt accordingly. If somebody is frightened you need to listen to them and allay their fears.

Judith Gebhardt-Dörler ­studied Social and Economic Studies at the University of Innsbruck and is Project ­Manager Corporate Communications at GW.

I post, therefore I am How adolescents start to chart their path through life

No longer a child, still not a man: 15-year olds are in a state of constant upheaval.

text: Melanie Mühl

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et’s start with a predicament that arises countless times every single day in one form or another: a young girl, Lara, aged 15, has arranged to go out with her friends. Completely at a loss, the teen peers into her wardrobe and rummages through the drawers and compartments, pulling out T-shirts and jeans, only to stuff them all back seconds later in a completely dishevelled state. Lara can’t make up her mind – so she lays out her three most suitable outfits, photo­graphs them and sends the pictures to her friends using WhatsApp. ‘Help!’, she writes. ‘What works best for tonight?’

Choosing clothes is one of the thorniest dilemmas faced during puberty. It is a weighty issue, no trivial matter. In the olden days, before the advent of smartphones, despairing young girls simply picked up the phone and called their best

i post, therefore i am 39

friends. As these were usually in the bathroom preening, they didn’t answer – so the girls ended up having to decide for themselves.

However, one thing hasn’t changed. Peer groups are still the most important medium for socialisation. They are a compass that helps young people navigate a confusing world. They restore order to chaotic pubescent minds and help cope with confusing impulses and drives, including sexual attraction;

‘ Peer groups are a compass that helps young people navigate a confusing world.’ they also help adolescents find themselves, become independent of their parents, and venture out into the world. Their importance cannot be overstated. Contrary to popular opinion, people should not regard adolescence as something point­less, as a purely transitory state of perpetual emergency where survival at any cost is the sole strategy. On the contrary, it is a productive rite of passage that needs to be fully embraced.

‘When we see our emotional spark, our social engagement, our novelty seeking, and our creative explorations as positive and necessary core aspects of who adolescents are – and who they might become as adults if they can cultivate these qualities well – this period becomes a time of great importance that should not just be survived but nurtured’, writes the American psychologist Daniel J. Siegel in his book on adolescence Brainstorm: the Power and Purpose of the Teenage Brain. From an evolutionary perspective, he argues, it was vital for social mammals like humans to separate from their family to avert the risk of incest. ‘Our individual and our collective lives depend on this adolescent “push away”.’

Adolescents’ brains undergo a critical phase of development. Since brain scans have been providing new insights, we know that the remodelling of the brain during puberty is far more complex than previously thought. According to the GEO Wissen magazine’s issue on puberty, ‘Rather than a fully developed organ with unchanging structures, scientists found a bustling building site inside the brain, a work in progress where new structures are being constantly built, new connections being laid and old ones being stripped out again. Much of the construction that was considered long complete is being

re-surveyed, while other parts are evidently in a state of continued restoration.’ Neurologically speaking, adolescents are like a fully-manned jet aircraft with its engines vibrating as it hurtles down the runway, while up top in the cockpit fitters are still frantically working on the controls and navigation system. Emotions are the biggest obstacle during puberty – the fluctuating feelings, their sheer intensity. ‘More than adults, adolescents can be completely overwhelmed by things they find cool’, argues the neuropsychologist Lutz Jäncke.

They run the risk of addiction or developing extremely powerful feelings for all kinds of things: ‘for TV, football, computer games, music, drugs, friends, and food and drink. They temporarily adopt strange idiosyncrasies, display – from the point of view of adults – quirky behavioural traits, prefer weird hairstyles and drink too much.’ They take unexpected decisions, many of which seem irrational and even idiotic to adults. They seem almost magically attracted to dangers that they typically underestimate. During no other period of life are they more likely to injure themselves.

The fact that we live in a so-called ‘multi-option society’ – and have become accustomed to fulfilling any need just with a few clicks – only makes matters worse for adolescents. Evidently, the range of opportunities has not made us any happier.

In his book The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less, Barry Schwartz makes a distinction between ‘maximisers’ and ‘satisficers’. Maximisers try to take the best possible decision and are constantly wondering if there could be an even better one if they keep on thinking – something that they ultimately do.

Satisficers take decisions that seem reasonable enough, decisions they can live with, and then forget. They are the happier of the two, writes Schwartz.

But young people lack the rational apparatus that would al­low them to lean back and form a cool, calm and collected impression of a situation. They aren’t helped by the ongoing bombardment of images, a never-ending encounter with the glamorously glossy photos on the internet, with video sequences that seduce them into flights of fancy, a 24 × 7 showcase of tempting yet unattainable aspirations. Lara, for example, uses the platform Tumblr to post pictures she has found online – pictures which, in her view, depict a cool world, albeit one that is far removed from her realm of possibilities. There are ravishing women with breathtaking bodies, muscular men with rippling physiques, Caribbean sunsets, rumpled silk bed

40 ich poste, also bin ich

Fixtures on smartphones and better than Google Maps: peer groups

sheets, ludicrously expensive cars, cigarette ends laced with lipstick, palm-lined boulevards, idyllic rural scenery etc. etc.

Accompanied by commentaries such as ‘Your mind should be cold and your heart should be on fire’, and ‘I just have this happy personality and a sad soul in one body. It feels weird sometimes’.

‘Posting has become a method of self-reassurance.’

That doesn’t mean teenagers get sucked into a fantasy world and then plot a course through life that reflects it. It only means that the torrent of images they have to wade through, a deluge that they, too, feed, leaves its mark on them. It does not simply roll off their shoulders. There are numerous platforms that allow adolescents to document their experiences, Instagram being among the most popular. According to one of its founders, it turns photography – otherwise a form of self-expression – into communication, while providing a way of transforming everyday scenes into magical moments. The focus is on sharing moments with friends. This type of sharing is

doubly important because it averts the ‘Fear Of Missing Out’.

Posting on the internet has become a method of self-reas­ surance. FOMO , as it is abbreviated, has always been around, but the digital revolution has given it an added dimension.

Mastering puberty, getting your bearings and finding your way in life have never been anything but challenging. Notwithstanding the new flood of images, the pressures of materialism and the multitude of available options, this phase of life hasn’t necessarily become harder today. And as the studies on young people produced by Shell in recent years have shown, one thing remains paramount for today’s adolescents: their friends and family. And that is not bad news.

Melanie Mühl studied German and Journalism, and now edits the Features Supplement of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung newspaper. Her new book Being Fifteen deals with the experiences of adolescents today. She has previously published Menschen am Berg. Mountain People. Stories About Life at the Very Top and The Patchwork Lie. A Polemic.

41

Blazing one’s own trail, some The new generation at GW talks about the present and future

C

omplaints about young people have been around for millennia.

That being said, young adults live in a society with a very uncertain future today. Their chances of getting training, an education, a job and starting a family may never have been as doubtful as now.

We talked to three young people from the GW world about their attitudes towards their parents and smartphones – and their expectations of adulthood.

interview: Judith Gebhardt-Dörler Christina Sagmüller, 16 years old, second-year ­apprentice as a freight forwarder at GW Maria Lanzendorf

In some respects I’m completely different from my parents. My Mum, for example, spends a lot of time cleaning.

She vacuums everywhere, is constantly putting things away and expects me to be equally tidy – although that doesn’t

seem so important to me. And she goes to church every week – that’s something else I don’t do. On the other hand, some of my values are the same as my family’s and, if I need some help or advice, I’ll gladly ask them. I know that my family only wants the best for me, and my parents have much more experience of life. That can be helpful.

I talked to them when I was choosing a career too. But it was a vocational week I spent at the Polytechnic that really made up my mind. I’d known for some time that I wanted to do an apprenticeship in an office, and got to spend some time at GW during that week to see what it was like. I genuinely enjoyed it and sent in my application immediately. And when I was accepted, I confirmed I would be joining straight away. For me, good training and the atmosphere at the company are very important.

When I’ve finished training, I’d like a career where I can engage with customers personally. I haven’t given it much

ehow ‘ A family and our own home with a garden.’

Christina Sagmüller

thought yet, but I’d quite like to settle down in this region, maybe in one of the local towns. Not far away so that I can get here if something ever happens to my parents. I’d definitely like to start my own family, and own a house with a garden. I’d like to travel a lot too, and see other parts of the world. Like Iceland and the North Pole. Lots of snow and ice – it would be great to experience that.

I sometimes get nervous about the future, about losing people important to me, for example. I’m scared of getting sick too. And, more generally, of growing older to some extent too.

Michael Stadelmann, 24 years old, works at GW as Disponent

Travelling is really important in my life.

I love the feeling of freedom when I step onto an aircraft and simply disappear into the clouds. I have just been to Australia, New Zealand, Singapore and Dubai, sleeping in a camper – and in some great hotels too. I started my apprenticeship at GW nine years ago. ­During that period I discovered my interest in different countries and foreign languages. While I was training I got the opportunity to spend a month at a haulage company in Ireland – and had a super time. After I finished my ap­ prenticeship, I got to go abroad for GW again, this time to Davies Turner in Manchester and London. I spent a year and a half l­ iving in England, initially in a flatshare with three others – a Pole, an Indian and a French guy – and later in a flat with three English people. I learned a great deal and had an unforgettable time.

When I’m not on the road, work is ­really important to me. I picked up that attitude from my parents and it has stuck with me: if you don’t work, you

won’t get anywhere! I’d like to feel I have achieved something. To say ‘that’s mine’ and ‘I earned it’. As far as my ideas and values are concerned, I’m really oldfashioned anyway and see things just like my parents: work, build a house, marry, have children. I discuss important decisions with them or my colleagues at work, depending on the subject. But sometimes I decide instinctively, based on my gut feeling.

I didn’t always know what I wanted from life. Basically, I had hoped to attend a commercial academy. But unfortunately things didn’t work out as I had expected or imagined. So I changed course, went to the polytechnic and ultimately started working at GW. It’s often the case that you realise too late what’s right for you. And that was exactly my situation when I was aged 17.

The future holds no fears for me.

Buying my own house will work out somehow. My job too – I should be able to hold onto it. I feel confident and ambitious. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be working as a dispatcher at GW.

‘ Cellphone? For our ­generation nothing could be more natural.’

ANASTASIA Tambouridou

ANASTASIA Tambouridou, 20 years old, second-year apprentice as a freight ­forwarder at GW Aldingen

Before I started my apprenticeship at GW, my life seemed to be following a very different path: after leaving school I worked in a call centre. But after a while I realised that it wasn’t the right job for me. So I changed course. It’s not uncommon for young people to put off decisions like this. Several people helped me choose a career, including my parents. My father’s background is in the haulage industry, and he worked at GW too. But I also went to vocational fairs and looked around at the employment office. For ­example, it runs aptitude tests that help to identify your strengths and interests. That influenced me too.

My parents taught me the importance of taking responsibility and being independent. I share their position on that. But on other areas we differ, and there lots of issues we could never agree on. But I guess that’s normal. That can happen with your friends too. I still

­ ppreciate their willingness to help if a I need some advice.

At the moment I can’t imagine moving away from this area. But who knows?

Maybe I’ll see things completely differently in five years. People change as they get older. But I do want to build a career I enjoy, to be independent and start a family. I think I’m heading in the right direction for that.

I can’t imagine being without a cellphone anymore. I wouldn’t say I am addicted in any way, but I need one and use it a lot. Some older people might find that a bit sad, but for our generation it’s absolutely natural.

I’m aware that I can expect lots of changes in life, and that some of these won’t be easy or comfortable. Nevertheless, you have to navigate any hurdles and find a way past them as best you can. Sure, there will be uncertain times, but I’ll cope somehow.

I’d like to feel I have achieved something. To say ‘that’s mine’ and ‘I earned it’.

Michael Stadelmann

44 ATLAS

45

Stumbling to success People who tend to get lost might just be the best explorers. As the history of humankind shows, Columbus wasn’t the only person to find something he wasn’t looking for.

text: Till Hein illustration: Martin Haake

O

n October 12 1492, Christopher Columbus reached India. Or so he thought. He had left Spain one month and six days earlier, surviving violent storms, a broken mast and several mutinies by his crew. Columbus celebrated his triumph. In reality, however, his ship had made port in central America, on the islands of the Bahamas.

When, a few weeks later, he encountered indigenous people on the neighbouring island of Hispaniola, he called them ‘Indians’. And even a dozen years later, following three further crossings to ‘Asia’, Columbus still believed that America was in fact India. He had miscalculated the circumference of the Earth but, without this error, may never have found the New World.

Many early expeditions were severely hampered by the inability to determine a ship’s longitude from on board, which led to many vessels losing their way and careering off course.

In the process, some discovered so-called phantom islands – which weren’t really islands at all. Many of these were simply land masses whose existence was already known; others were mirages caused by reflected light, and some were simply the product of the explorers’ overactive imaginations. By contrast the continent of Australia – whose existence was widely ­accepted by scholars of the Classical period – did not feature as such on a map until 1817. Only because Willem Jansz, who most likely was the first European in Australia in 1606, had believed he was in New Guinea. And even Captain Cook, who accidentally reached the eastern seaboard of Australia in April 1770, simply sailed on. He was convinced that the mysterious land he was seeking – ‘Terra Australis Incognita’ (‘Unknown Southern Land’) – must be far further south.

The intriguing Columbus Syndrome has been a recurrent feature of human history, with the achievements of many

46 stumbling to success

­ ariners, inventors and scientists the results of disorientation, m errors or even ineptitude. Many set out to find one thing, only to discover something completely different. It seems that ­talent, dedication and hard work are not enough: to enjoy real success, pioneers need to lose their bearings and orientation!

For example, we owe the triumph of antibiotics over infections to a lack of organisation: in 1928 the notoriously untidy microbiologist Alexander Fleming was conducting experiments on the bacteria staphylococcus. He forgot to put one of his cultures away, and upon returning to his London laboratory after a holiday, noticed that fungus growing around the edges was destroying the sample. During a series of experiments heestablished that mould produces a substance that kills off many other types of bacteria as well. He called it penicillin.

Shortly afterwards other antibiotics were discovered, allowing doctors around the world to effectively combat epidemics of diseases such as the plague, cholera and tuberculosis.

Enormous wealth, if not life and death, were at stake for the alchemist Johann Friedrich Böttger during the early eighteenth century: he was charged with creating gold for August the Strong, the Elector of Saxony in Germany. During one of his first attempts, Böttger mixed clay with the silicate feldspar,

quartz and water, and burned it. The result was porcelain.

Thrilled, August the Strong built a factory in the city of Meissen. The ‘white gold’ made him stupendously rich.

During the 1990s, American pharmaceutical scientists were looking for a drug that would improve blood circulation in the heart muscle. They found the agent sildenafil

‘It seems that talent, dedication and hard work are not enough: to enjoy real success, pioneers need to lose their ­ bearings and orientation!’ which – to the delight of many of the test subjects – chiefly improved the blood flow in the penis. More detailed studies showed that it helps 70 per cent of men suffering from erectile dysfunction. In March 1998 the US authorities approved the release of the new medication under the name ‘Viagra’.

‘Detours improve local knowledge’, runs an old German proverb. And it really is true: losing your way occasionally doesn’t hold you up. On the contrary, it can help you progress.

stumbling to success 47

The publicist Florian Illies has his own eulogy to things that go awry, askew and astray: the entire history of evolution – biological and cultural – can be narrated as a success story built on productive errors, he argued in an essay for the German newspaper DIE ZEIT in December 2010. Because ultimately evolution is the result of ‘transcription errors’. Living organisms pass on their DNA to their offspring. But sometimes mistakes occur in the duplication process. For the most part, the mutations don’t prove successful and vanish again as fast as they appeared. But sometimes the copying errors produce something unexpected which stirs up the mix and creates lasting changes. In this way, the world keeps evolving, Illies argues: ‘Ultimately, the great diversity of culture and nature is caused by nothing less than innumerable unique transcription errors’. The philosopher Martin Heidegger gave one of his challenging works on Western metaphysics the title Off the Beaten Track. In his preface of 1950 he wrote: ‘These paths may lead nowhere, but they never lose their way.’

And although many people have come to trust GPS technology, they still go off course – and get the opportunity to discover something new. Like 28-year-old Noel Santillan from New Jersey who, having landed at Reykjavik Airport a few

months ago, rented a car so that he could drive to a hotel on the city’s outskirts. Six hours later he finally arrived in Siglu­ fjördur, a fishing village on the northern coast of Iceland: ­hundreds of miles from the capital on the edge of the Arctic Circle.

Rather than ‘Laugavegur’ – a major road in Reykjavik – he had punched ‘Laugarvegur’ into his sat nav – one of the few roads in this small port of just 1,000 inhabitants. Santillan got out of his car, looked around, liked what he saw – and decided to stay put. Reykjavik could wait, he felt. He was particularly fascinated by the local museum devoted to herring. Back in the States, he had never seen anything like it – even in New York!

Till Hein, born in 1969, works as a freelance science journalist in Berlin. He writes for NZZ am Sonntag, ZEIT, mare, Süddeutsche Zeitung, Spiegel WISSEN and GEO among others. His novel Der Kreuzberg ruft! – Gratwanderungen durch Berlin (Kreuzberg calling – A balancing act in Berlin) has been published by be.bra.

The

Part of the northern Sahara, compiled using data from observation satellites that map natural resources and register changes to the Earth’s topography.

last

ATLAS 49

uncharted

Exploring our planet’s remotest corners

50 the last uncharted territories

text: Titus Arnu

M

ysterious things are happening in the cloud forest of Utcubamba Province. Given its inaccessibility, the mountainous jungle in the Peruvian Amazonas offers an ideal sanctuary – not only for pumas, toucans, hummingbirds and parrots, but also for mythical figures. There is a legend among the indigenous population, the Gocta, about a beautiful blond siren who dwells in a lagoon beneath a ­waterfall. She is reputed to be the mother of the fish and the guardian of a golden treasure trove. Those who value their lives are wise not to seek her out. The farmer Juan Mendoza was once allegedly bewitched by the siren’s voice and turned to stone. Since that day he has been condemned to shoulder the torrents of water that thunder down onto him and into the valley below.

bolivien

‘Basically,

white spaces are a product of scale.’

Really? The Gocta Cataracts, named after the nearest vil­lage and the tribal people, was a long-term absentee from maps of the world. One could only hear its roar. The German aid work­er Stefan Ziemendorff became the first Westerner to ­actually see the waterfall during a 2002 expedition to the nature reserve. In 2006 Ziemendorff returned to the site with a Peruvian research team to survey the falls. The result was astonishing: 771 metres, given a 13.5-metre margin of error.

At a press conference, Ziemendorff announced that it was the third-highest waterfall in the world, topped only by Salto Ángel in Venezuela (979 metres) and the Tugela Falls in South Africa (948 metres). Based on a different calculation system, the Gocta Cataracts plummet to fifteenth place in this ranking, due to the fact that they consist of multiple levels. This has not, however, stopped them from becoming one of Peru’s top tourist attractions.

Anyone preferring to avoid the arduous journey there can view the site on Google Earth. Google Maps shows that a road leads as far as a village called Cocachimba located two kilo­ metres from the Gocta Cataracts. How could such a stupen-

dous waterfall remain hidden for so long? Hasn’t our entire plan­et already been surveyed, mapped and explored many times over? Satellites orbit the globe non-stop, scanning the earth’s surface. Google has photographed buildings all over the world; the NSA probably has copies of our shopping lists.

How can there still be ‘white spaces’ on today’s maps?

The age in which entire continents were discovered is long past, yet secret locations do still exist. Many patches of desert and large expanses of the polar regions both north and south have only been seen to date by satellites – and never traversed by humans. While all of the Himalayas peaks over 8,000 metres have been scaled, many more 6,000-metre peaks in eastern Tibet, Nepal and Pakistan have not. Most don’t even have names. Two thirds of the rivers flowing through the Congo have never been mapped, a situation paralleled in the Amazonas. In central Greenland, a 750-kilometre-long canyon that plunges to depths of 800 metres was discovered under the ice using radar technology in 2013. Erdi-Ma, a rocky plateau in

ATLAS 51

Apicipsa piditisque versperferum quae sectatqui solo berionsecto que sed enestium qui officit velenessit eat quiaturiam aribus, voluptatione maximinus et, tes exersped qui ut quam ut et unt.

the Sahara, was not explored until 2005. In Venezuela there are towering 3,000-metre table mountains atop which no human has ever stood. And the planet’s largest volcano was unknown until 2013: the Tamu Massif, an extinct supervolcano on the floor of the Pacific Ocean east of Japan, is the size of the British Isles.

‘Basically, white spaces are a product of scale’, says Manfred Buchroithner, Professor of Cartography at the Technical University of Dresden. ‘If you take rough satellite data that has a resolution of several kilometres, it encompasses the entire world map’, he explains. Things change with higher resolutions. For a scale of 1:50,000, you need a resolution of 50 centimetres. ‘And until recently that certainly wasn’t possible in every part of the world’, Buchroithner says. He has concerned himself with this topic both academically and practically for many years. The enthusiastic mountaineer has been the first human to set foot on several peaks. In 1975 he completed the ascent of Koh-e Asp-e Safen (6,101 metres) in the Pamir

libya

niger

Erdi-Ma sudan

chad

Lake Chad nigeria

cameroon

central african republic

south sudan

View of the most northerly part of the Erdi Ma plateau, an area spanning Chad, Sudan and Libya that has been uninhabited for millennia. With its characteristic sandstone scenery, it closely resembles parts of the planet Mars’ surface, and is almost equally unexplored.

mountains of Afghanistan before anyone else, and in 1992 he, along with Hans-Dieter Sauer and Bernhard Jüptner, became the first climbers to scale Tenzin Gyatso Peak in the Tibetan Himalayas (6,004 metres). Among other things, Buchroithner has worked at Stanford University and for NASA ; he has mapped near-inaccessible mountain ranges and virtually impassable gorges. In addition, he regularly pioneers new climbing routes in the Alps – there, too, putting a different type of ‘white space’ on the map.

The difference between geometry and topography In the beginning Buchroithner’s work was ‘analogue’: using paper maps, surveying instruments, and photographs. Today he can call on a diversified arsenal of digital data. In 2013 France sent its Pléjades satellite into orbit, which produces images with a resolution of up to 50 centimetres. Photos not containing sensitive military information can be used by ­scientists, enabling the production of precise digital landscape models for the entire world. Buchroithner assessed one such digital model on site in the mountains where Tibet, India and Nepal intersect, and ascertained that it was astoundingly ­accurate. ‘Everything is mapped perfectly in three dimensions down to at least a metre.’ In collaboration with the company 3D Reality Maps, researchers at the German Centre for Aviation and Aerospace (DLR ) created a three-dimensional image of Mount Everest – using optical satellite data with a maximum resolution of half a metre. Climbers in urgent need of assis-

tance can now communicate their exact location to mountain rescue services – assuming they can get a connection and still move their fingers.

How can it be that a waterfall gushing from a height of 771 metres was not discovered until so recently? Or that there are stretches of the Atacama Desert that are open to tourists but still not completely charted? Buchroithner says this is due to the difference between the geometry and topography of the land. A digital model may be mathematically accurate, but it does not reveal much topographical information. It could be a jungle, a vertical rock face, an inaccessible sheet of ice. Narrow footpaths snaking through rugged, rock-strewn terrain cannot be identified as such from outer space. From a bird’s-eye perspective, a cliff looks like a line, not an elevation. This is why, in today’s world, it has become imperative to set foot personally on the white space of virgin territory in order to ‘dis­ cover’ it. And in most cases, this is a rather tortuous undertaking.

the last uncharted territories 53

venezuela

Río Caroní

Orinoco guyana

Kukenán Tepui

kolumbien brazil

The Kukenán-tepui in Venezuela.

The tepuis, almost 3,000 m high table mountains, are almost completely cut off – partly as a result of their height and the ­climatic ­differences to the rainforest surrounding them, and partly due to their insurmountably steep sides.

in HD quality. At least on the Internet, it would seem that global is now local, in a world that has shrunk­en into a village.

Why would anyone volunteer to launch an expedition to a nameless 6,000-metre mountain in Kyrgyzstan? The unfamiliar cultures and bizarre environments are what attract Dennis Gastmann to obscure and distant places. In his book Atlas of Undiscovered Countries (Atlas der unentdeckten Länder), the German relates his journeys to the autonomous republic of Karakalpakstan on the Aral Sea, the micronation Akhzivland in Israel, the South Sea island of Pitcairn, and to a ghost town

‘White spaces are also about politics.

“Geoscience is power”.’

Motivation also plays a major role. In the age of the great discoveries, from the fifteenth to the eighteenth centuries, the seafaring Europeans had their sights trained on expansion, tapping ­natural resources and spreading the Christian faith.

The expression ‘terra incognita’ proved an irresistible temptation; kings financed the daunting voyages of explorers in hopes of augmenting their power and status. In 1883 Sir Clements Markham, a British explorer and President of the Royal Geographical Society, coined the phrase ‘blank of the maps’, which the Swedish geographer and Asia expert Sven Hedin translated as ‘white spaces’. To erase these from the world map was the declared goal of researchers such as Alexander von Humboldt and Sven Hedin.

Today a single mouse-click can transport you to any point on the planet. It is possible to climb Mount Everest – virtually (www.everest3d.de; project360.mammut.ch). And there is even documentary material on the Antarctic available – online

in Ras al-Khaimah, one of the United Arab Emirates. Although not white spaces in the geographical sense of the phrase, these are quite remote outposts of our civilization which Gastmann makes ‘accessible’ in a genuinely entertaining way.

White spaces are also about politics. ‘Geoscience is power,’ says cartographer Manfred Buchroithner. This is as true today as it was in the age of Christopher Columbus – in North Korea as much as in Russia, the United States and Syria. Before the war in Syria, Buchroithner had been tasked by the Assad regime with drawing up tourist maps. Everything was charted and digitalized, but to this day the roads are nowhere to be found on Google Maps – because in Syria, no one is interested. On Google Earth as well, many places are misrepresented, as they were in former Eastern Germany. Not only on military grounds, but for economic reasons as well: in Africa, Buch­roithner notes, some water projects are not shown on any maps.

Even today, cartographers still have their hands full. They have only just begun identifying vertical rock faces in the high mountain ranges, including traverse routes and exposed areas.

And a geophysical survey project at the South Pole recently revealed that Antarctica is not a cohesive land mass, but rather a network of islands and fjords. ‘It will take another few decades until we really “get to the bottom of ” the Earth’s surface’, says Buchroithner.

Titus Arnu, born 1966 in Laufenburg (Switzerland), studied at the German School of Journalism in Munich.

He writes for the Süddeutsche Zeitung news­paper and an array of travel and outdoor magazines including Geo and Natur. He is embarking on an expedition to the remote Tsum V ­ alley in Nepal, some parts of which are still uncharted, for his new book.

54

Stars, Compass, GPS – the seafaring of yesteryear and today In ancient times, mariners found it impossible to identify their exact location. However, their physical senses were well trained. They could navigate using the stars and environmental features: smells; the colour and temperature of the water; the presence of and paths taken by individual bird and fish species.

A plumb line revealed the water’s depth and whether the seabed was rocky or muddy. Like Noah in the Bible, they sent out birds to look for land.

And over the course of centuries, they passed on their knowledge and e­ xperience, enabling later generations to explore far further afield.

text: Martin Kaluza illustration: Olaf Hajek Compass The first compass consisted of a magnetic needle that floated in a bowl of water. Known to Chinese mariners as early as the tenth century, the compass later found its way to Europe via Arab merchants. The idea of balancing a magnetic needle perfectly on a central pin was first recorded in 1269. The ­invention of gimbal suspension in the sixteenth century brought major benefits for seafarers: two pivot bearings joined at a 90 degree angle offset the swell of the sea – allowing the compass to swivel in both directions and stay in a hori­zontal position.

Sextant and Jacob’s Staff Around 1730 the English astronomer John Hadley built the first sextant – essentially a tool for measuring angles.

Its more primitive precursor, the socalled Jacob’s staff, was invented in the thirteenth century but wasn’t used in seafaring for another 200 years. Sextants could show the height of the sun or stars above the horizon with great accuracy. Mariners could effectively work out their location by referring to ephemerides, tables that listed the projected daily positions of the planets in the sky. The astronomer Regiomontanus published one of the earliest versions in 1474. His most famous customer was Christopher Columbus. By this time in history mariners could already locate their positions to an accuracy of 30 nautical miles.

Chronometer For centuries, determining a vessel’s longitude had been considered impos­ sible. As early as the sixteenth century, the north European cosmographer and instrument maker Gemma Frisius had made an important observation: he realised that longitude could be calculated by determining when the sun was at its zenith and comparing this with the time at a different location whose degree of longitude was known. But it wasn’t until 1761 that a reliably accurate timepiece brought the breakthrough.

The English clockmaker John Harrison built a chronometer which was accurate to a second and could be used on board a ship. The chronometer showed the time at the Greenwich meridian in London, where the longitude is exactly zero.

Using that information, mariners only had to calculate the time difference between their ships and Greenwich.

Based on this, they could look up their current longitude in special nautical tables.

stars, Compass, GPS 55

Chip log From the end of the sixteenth century, the chip log made it easier to determine a ship’s speed. Used in conjunction with a compass, it allowed mariners to cal­ culate how much progress they had made along their route. Until that point, the volume of noise and size of the wash had been the only ways of estimating how fast a vessel was sailing. The chip log is a triangular piece of wood attached to the end of a long line which is knotted a regular intervals. It was thrown overboard from the rear of a ship and then dragged through the water. The speed could be judged from the number of knots that were pulled out within a specific period. Since this time, a ship’s speed has been measured in ‘knots’, with each knot being equivalent to one nautical mile per hour.

Radar In 1904 the engineer Christian Hülsmeyer demonstrated a piece of equipment on Cologne’s Hohenzollernbrücke bridge that reliably signalled the presence of every vessel passing by. The device emitted electromagnetic waves and captured any waves that were ­reflected back by ships. The invention was then forgotten by science for over 30 years before its potential benefits were finally appreciated. Radars were then installed to monitor coastlines and the skies but were not used on board ships until the 1950s. In addition to identifying nearby vessels, ship ra­ dars could also register radio-equipped buoys which are used to aid navigation, above all in coastal waters.

The first generation of ship radars offered coverage for nine kilometres.

Since the 1960s approximately 110 kilometres has been the standard.

Radio direction finding The start of the 1920s saw the first radio antennas being installed on ships. These enabled them to pick up signals from electronic beacons that were onshore or on lightships with permanent anchorages.

Signals from two electronic beacons are needed to determine a ship’s position.

From the 1940s through to the 1980s, a beacon in the Norwegian port of Stavanger transmitted signals that could be received 1,000 kilometres away.

Satellite navigation In 1964 the first-ever satellite navigation system entered service. Known as NNSS Transit, it was used by the US military for three years before being released for civil applications. In the mid-1980s it was superseded by today’s global positioning system (GPS). To identify its location, a ‘sat nav’ maintains simultaneous contact with four different satellites which constantly transmit their positions and the time of day.

Twenty-four satellites are needed to provide coverage worldwide, and 31 to guarantee a dependable service at all times.

Martin Kaluza works as a journalist and author in Berlin. He also holds a German Mariner’s Licence.

57

T he sa me , only dif f eren t Wh at signs say

text: Andreas Uebele

T

he Maggi advertising by the central station in Singen am Hohentwiel – a logo with giant lettering perched on a rooftop – tells travellers that the train will be stopping at Singen in a few seconds, and that it’s high time to prepare for disembarking. Without it, some may well miss their stop. ­Although they can read and the announcement was made in good time, they might have been daydreaming or listening to music - but the sign is a visual wake-up call. It may not be part of the orientation system of Deutsche Bahn, Germany’s rail services operator, but in their minds customers associate this destination irrevocably with the flavourful logo. A classic example of how graphic elements define a place, giving it the stamp of its identity – and helping travellers navigate through space and time.

When driving a car, the phenomenon is similar. You cross a border and at first are distracted: the traffic, the route, the toll booths require your full concentration. But suddenly the driver realises that ‘something’ looks different. The signage has a different format, the letters seem unfamiliar. Even without any knowledge of typography, it is obvious that the look of public spaces as such has changed. The entire spatial setting – a whole consisting of structures, colours, pictograms, arrows and letters – is distinctly different. Border hoppers subconsciously register that they are no longer in Germany, but rather in France. The ‘typically German’ lettering prescribed by the German Institute for Standardisation (abbreviated ‘DIN ’) has given way to an elegant, slim uppercase type. Even without an express interest in typography, French visitors to Germany will clearly register the difference too. The unique charm of the clean DIN typeface with its engineered lines and circles conveys that, while Germans may pamper themselves with French food and wine, they draw a strict line between no-nonsense solidity and fanciful elegance when it comes to constructing typefaces, technology and automobiles.

The different typefaces and designs of road signs also alter one’s perceptions of specific circumstances. American signage tends to be direct: ‘Don’t even think of parking here’ sends an

unequivocal message, but also one that is personal and humorous – in stark contrast to the prohibitive, scolding officialese typical of Germany and Austria. The graphic American sign with the pointing index finger essays identification with its subject, quite the opposite of a detached recitation of Highway Code rules. And to whom would one rather listen? To the overbearing jobsworth, or to an entertaining, understanding and unidentifiable third party?

Div e rs ity an d uniformi t y Notwithstanding cross-border regulations on road signage in Europe, there is still some leeway when it comes to their implementation. The classic example of the stop sign 1 illustrates how each country reserves – or rather simply exercises – its own freedom of design. The law requires white letters against a red background. Hey, nobody will notice if we simply use a different typeface! This is a thoroughly likeable brand of civil disobedience that subtly flaunts compliance with norms.

And at the same time an attempt to assert a national identity, even if manifested in the most miniscule details (which are only visible to the trained eye) such as the choice of typeface.

Subversive typography at its best!

Particularly in smaller countries, typography and identity appear to be closely intertwined: this is the kaleidoscope that vividly illustrates European diversity. Perhaps it is motivated by a will to distinguish oneself from overbearing neighbours and dominant languages? Luxembourg displays its language on its traffic signs. But not only that: Luxemburgish has its own alphabet, Ireland its own font style for Gaelic. The typography used in Iceland – ‘Heavy Transport’ – was expanded to include the special characters eth and thorn. 2 The import and e xport of typographic c onv e ntions In the past, countries keyed the design of their signage to the models of olden times. Yet both Greece (traffic signs) and Italy (licence plates) have adopted the German DIN norm, albeit in

58 the same, just different

1

3

3

2

4

ATLAS 59

GB

F

S

E

I

PL

G

a slightly different look. The revised Italian version, for instance, is somewhat lighter than the original, probably with the aim of avoiding overlapping in the embossing. The American type FHWA (Standard Alphabets for Traffic Control Devices, Federal Highway Administration) is also frequently emulated, and implemented by Spain and countries shaped by AngloSaxon culture such as Canada 3 and Australia – but here too it has been customised. At first glance and without claim to scientific accuracy, this may seem indicative of a typographical supremacy of the Americans. That said, linking typographical commonalities with international politics is a risky, if entertaining notion. Signs simply mirror the zeitgeist of their genesis. Political and social revolutions, it would appear, are more often reflected in banal and everyday contexts – such as number plates. The Italian plates from the 1920s – fa bella figura! – used a contemporary typeface built on the 90 degree angle. In 1932 this was replaced by an antiquated serif type. To argue that Antiqua fonts perforce describe an antiquated world view is, of course, nonsense, but it is a viable interpretation. So it is only logical that, following the overthrow of the ridiculous El Duce, dolce tipografia came back into style. In 1952 a sombre and unexcited sans-serif font graced the belle machine of Pininfarina, Bertone and Zagato. Italians may be charming, engaged and speedy drivers, but their beautiful, speedy chariots occasionally happen to meet by accident, necessitating that these selfsame elegant drivers be forewarned of dangers lurking just

beyond the bend in a wonderful illustration. The sign depicting two vehicles tortuously entangled – using comic-like white lines against a scarlet background – is a virtual bel canto of traffic technology. 4 This small sampling exemplifies that the need for differentiation, identity and regional autonomy is so strong that it even manifests itself in ostensibly insignificant things like street signs. The enveloping cloak of standardisation may well be a safeguard against confusion, aiding orientation in the various countries. Yet the characteristic details comprised of special characters, dialects, illustrative language and talking illustrations also help answer the all-important question ‘Where am I?’ in a clear yet understated way that generates both identity and atmosphere.

Andreas Uebele is a communications designer and professor of visual communication at the Düsseldorf University of Applied Sciences. The büro uebele ­visuelle kommunikation agency’s output has garnered over 300 national and international awards in recent ­years. One of the most important work of the office is the corporate design for the german parliament.

All illustrations are from the book Schrift und Identität. Die Gestaltung von Beschilderungen im öffentlichen Verkehr.

CH

62 ORANGE network

into space

Around the World

In July 2016, at the end of a five-year journey, the space probe Juno entered orbit around Jupiter. It is due to circle the planet 33 times, descending progressively into its cloud layers before finally disintegrating and burning up in February 2018.

In March 2015 Bertrand Piccard and André Borschberg took off in a specially constructed solar aircraft to circumnavigate the world. Their aim was to promote the causes of energy efficiency and renewable energies. They successfully completed their mission in July 2016.

Canada WR Vancouver has handled the air transportation and customs processing of the bicycles for the new Citybike system in Vancouver from the manufacturer Smoove’s factory in France. With 1,500 bikes now available from 150 pickup points, this marks a significant addition to the western Canadian city’s public transport infrastructure.

Ivory Coast The Project Logistics & Break Bulk division has transported the first of five cement grinding plants from Europe to Abidjan, the capital of the Ivory Coast. With the parts being manufactured at 11 sites across Austria, Germany, Croatia, Slovak­ ia, Turkey, Belgium, Spain, Poland, Vietnam, Czechia and the Nether­ lands, the delivery process took almost a whole year.

Germany During the first half of 2016, the mixed cargo network System Alli­ance Europe (SAE) transported 2.07 million shipments, almost four per cent more than in the pre­vious year’s period. The organisation currently consists of 61 partners operating 203 sites across 32 European countries. GW is an official partner of the System Alliance Europe.

Turkey GW has expanded its footprint in Turkey by opening a location in the south-western city of Izmir. The site will be supporting the exist­ing Istanbul office in the areas of air cargo and sea freight. Given its ac­ces­sibil­ity from the Bayrakli business dis­trict, GW can now offer direct local transport and planning services to its clients in the southern Aegean region.

ORANGE network 63

across the sea

back to base

When discovered on the German island of Amrum, the oldest known message in a bottle had been en route for 108 years. In 1906 the Marine Biological Association of the United Kingdom had cast it into the North Sea near Plymouth in an effort to research offshore currents.

The 10-month-old house cat Cookie, which had escaped while its owner was holidaying in southern France, walked back to its home in Normandy. It took 18 months to cover the over 1,100 kilometres route.

Iran After the US and EU lifted their sanctions against Iran this year, GW immediately launched a weekly general cargo service between the Bulgarian capital of Sofia and the Iranian capital of Tehran. Travelling via Turkey and the Iranian border crossing at Bazargan, the trucks typically cover the 3,000 kilometres route in six working days.

Austria Gebrüder Weiss will be the official logistics partner to the Bregenz Festival in Austria, organising the transport of all of the stage equipment and supporting the well-known Arts event as its co-sponsor. For many years the Bregenz Festival has been one of the top cultural attractions in the Lake Constance region, not least through a pro­ gramme of operas performed on the world’s largest floating stage.

Serbia In mid-August Tehnomanija and GW decided to pool their resources. Within the framework of their cooperation agreement, GW will be taking over its partner’s vehicle fleet and transporting over 500 consignments in 25 trucks every day. The Serbian company’s webshop for household electricals ranks among the most popular and trusted in the country.

Singapore For its longstanding customer DMT Marine Equipment, GW Bucharest has organised the dispatch of a 420 × 315 × 240 centimetre, 20-tonne ship winch to Singapore. Weighing approximately 25 tonnes in total, the six parts had to be transported from the Romanian production plant in Galatin to Singapore in just seven days.

r e t f a g n i n r u t l s l r i t a S e y e s e h t l l a The end is nigh. The end of the world has been forecast for millennia – and repeatedly rescheduled.

text: Jens Mühling

T

he big question is ‘When?’

Soon – say proponents of the so-called Nibiru theory.

A planetary object by that name, they believe, is hurtling towards us. It can already be seen using special telescopes, although NASA – needless to say – is tight-lipped.

Soon, very soon, Nibiru will collide with Earth and wipe out humankind. You don’t believe it? Then try Googling ‘Nibiru’.

And don’t complain afterwards that we didn’t warn you.

During the course of this century – if a worst-case study of the US Defense Department is to be believed. Its report posits an abrupt change to the planet’s climate, the kind of thing scientists view as a possible consequence of global warming.

The scenario: the northern hemisphere cools down, the south heats up, ocean currents reverse, wind directions change, water levels rise, some landmasses are submerged and others

dry up. Wars – waged with knives, tanks and nuclear weapons – erupt over the remaining resources, energy, food, and the best human habitats. One final inferno and the cockroaches will inherit the Earth.

‘But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father’ – says the Gospel of Matthew. And Paul the Apostle concurs that ‘the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night’.

The Bible does not, however, offer up a date The ‘end of all time’ has preoccupied people throughout the ages and still does. Scenarios of the day of reckoning can be found in more or less explicit forms in the seminal writings of all civilisations: in the Greek epics, the Talmud, the Bible, the Quran, the Hindu Vedas, the teachings of Buddha. But none of them tell us exactly when that day will come. Biblical prophets

may paint Judgment Day in garish hues, that doomsday when the damned are divided from the redeemed. Isaiah, Ezekiel, Esra, Daniel and foremost John propound all manner of ‘signs’, including the soundings of the trumpet and other dire harbingers that, into our age, have fed the cataclysmic fantasies of Western civilisation. Not very long ago, the serial killer Charles Manson predicted that the world would end in 1969, believing as he did that the peace-loving Beatles were not ‘cockroaches’ lying in wait at all, but the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.

The Bible does not, however, offer up a date. Alone the Book of Revelations provides a basic time frame: God’s rule on Earth is to last ‘a thousand years’, before the final battle is fought. He will then pass judgement and the redeemed will be led into a new kingdom. One millennium: not much to go on and open to interpretation. A thousand years starting with the

66 sie bewegt sich doch noch

Not an enticing prospect: Franz von Stuck’s depiction of Armageddon (ca. 1922)

birth of Christ? Or with the Second Coming? Or, for those of the Jewish faith, with the advent of the true Messiah? Did the thousand-year reign commence when the Christian church was established? Or was a metaphorical ‘fullness of time’ meant, as the clerics rushed to explain when, at the dawn of the eleventh century, the world refused to end?

Today the various faiths still argue over the beginning and end of those 1,000 years. But the apocalyptic movements – the premillennialists and postmillennialists, the adventists, preterists and dispensationalists – do have one thing in common. Their vision of the Day of Judgement differs radically from what people associate with the end of the world today, namely the annihilation of the human race and the obliteration of Planet Earth, i. e. the final curtain, with no more last hurrahs. In the religious interpretation, the end is a necessary step towards a new beginning: not until the world of mortals

has terminated can the kingdom of God commence, and it shall rule ‘from eternity to eternity’. The end of the world in its religious definition simply marks the end of history as we know it, that unworthy preface to perpetuity. Yet only the chosen are allowed to enter eternity; their salvation constitutes the true be-all and end-all of the apocalypse.

So it’s no wonder that Judgement Day became such a potent weapon in the hands of religious leaders. The closer the end of the world was, the more dreadful the doomsday warnings were, the easier it became to encourage godliness and piety among the flock. After all, nobody wants to get on the wrong side of God with the Day of Judgement looming. Pope Sylvester II secured his followers’ avid attention by dating the apocalypse on 31 December 999. The ‘thousand year’ assumption seemed quite plausible, and mass hysteria gripped the Christian world. Some frantically atoned for every sin they

Still turning after all these years 67

could think of, while others abandoned hope altogether and sinned as though there were no tomorrow. When dawn broke on New Year’s Day and the sun rose in the sky as usual, Pope Sylvester wheedled his way out of the situation by announcing that his prayers alone had averted the calamity.

But the people’s panic was not placated. In the lead-up to the then-new millennium, chroniclers far and wide recorded a mysterious upsurge of earthquakes, floods, firestorms and strange apparitions in the sky. Because the end was nigh? Or because every natural event was viewed through the prism of the impending disaster? The now viral question ‘When’? soon spawned a new answer. The thousand years should have begun at Christ’s death, not his birth. So when, in 1033, an eclipse of the sun caused Europe’s skies to darken, ‘all those who witnessed this sight’ realised instantly that ‘it could only mean the end of the world’, as the Benedictine monk Rodulfus Glaber reported. Half in regret and half in relief, he added that the sky had begun ‘laughing’ shortly afterwards, that ‘gentle breezes began wafting past to mark the millennium of the Lord’s suffering’.

death with hot irons, but he had created an eerily modern template for those charismatic sect leaders of the 20th century who deluded their disciples into similarly suicidal submission with their claims that the end was nigh.

The apocalyptic visions of Bockelson’s age also drew their inspiration from the Crusades, in which Muslims were viewed as forebears of the antichrist, a recurring theme in the pre­ dictions of the French apothecary Nostradamus. Published in 1555, his most famous work – The Prophecies – still offers mystics an almost inexhaustible treasure trove of theories around the chronically tardy Day of Judgement. Not unlike the writings of the Mayans, in which history buffs have claimed to find irrefutable proof of their day of doom, most recently scheduled for 2012.

It was the Copernican Revolution that finally sparked the paradigm shift in apocalyptic thinking. The astronomer – Nostradamus’ near contemporary – and his followers Kepler and Galileo shifted the world from the centre of the universe to its fringes. In doing so, they removed the world from divine control. But because a godless world had no god to save it, its demise acquired a new finality.

Hardly a decade passed without an impending Armageddon

Who should occupy the judge’s seat vacated by God?

The year 1000 passed without event, as did 1033, with the world yet to go up in flames. The interest and fear subsided, and the Book of Revelations was suddenly toast. But Europe’s seers refused to surrender without a fight. And it was not in vain: ensuing centuries proved the most apocalyptically fruitful in the continent’s history. The visions of the then-prophets experienced a boom, and hardly a decade passed without an impending Armageddon being predicted. The Italian abbot Joachim of Fiore soon devised a model of history analogous to the Holy Trinity, referring to the time before Christ as the Age of the Father and thereafter as the Age of the Son – with the Age of the Holy Spirit due to begin shortly in 1260. Nice try, but the world was still not ready.

One of the most bizarre cataclysmic spectacles took place two centuries later in the German city of Münster. In 1534, two young and charismatic Dutchmen claimed they were reincarnations of the biblical prophets Elijah and Enoch. Jan Matthys and Jan Bockelson conjured up such vivid visions of the apocalypse that they captivated the entire population of 10,000 with their outlandish ideas – partly because anyone daring to contradict them was instantly executed. In a frenzy of fearful anticipation as the day of reckoning approached, people coursed through the streets screaming hysterically and the women tore off their clothes in despair. Bockelson maintained his regime of terror even after the city had been besieged by soldiers and Matthys arrested. Bockelson introduced polygamy, married 15 women and requisitioned the last remaining food for them. While he was commissioning fantastic costumes for himself, the city’s half-starved inhabitants staggered through the corpse-ridden streets, gnawing at the cobblestones. The horror show had sequel after sequel until the city was finally stormed. Bockelson was ultimately tortured to

Judeo-Christian beliefs in a final cleansing continued to inspire cataclysmic visions, with a final judgement purging the old to make room for the new. In this way, the spirit of the apocalypse planted the seeds of revolution. Who should best occupy the judge’s seat vacated by God? Man, of course, with the mission of saving people and condemning their enemies, i. e. other people. After all, wasn’t bloodletting in the name of justice – as demanded by Robespierre and Danton in France and Lenin and Stalin in Russia – not tantamount to the carnage of Judgement Day? ‘These are apocalyptic times, my dear sir’, the revolutionary Strelnikov says in Boris Pasternak’s Dr Zhivago. ‘This is a time for swords and winged beasts to rule the fields.’ Hitler launched his thousand-year reign, his reich, in even more radical terms: his purges were directed, ironically, at the people of Israel, to whom Old Testament prophesies had once accorded privileged access to the afterworld.

Complementing this trend, the Copernican Revolution also kindled the desolate visions that still underpin our concept of the world’s end today: the fear of human annihilation by the forces of Nature – or even humankind itself. With ­Copernicus’ help, Earth was removed from a god’s grasp, thus conceding power to the people who had unilaterally positioned their planet in the skies and anchored it in the cosmos.

Yet as if unnerved by their courage, they now began to fear for the stability of that selfsame universe.

On 26 April 1986, a verse from the Book of Revelations was on everybody’s lips in Ukraine: ‘And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp’ (Chapter 8, Verse 10). ‘And the name of the star is called Wormwood’. One Ukrainian word for wormwood is ‘chernobyl’.

On that very day in the city of that very name, Reactor 4 at the

68 Still turning after all these years

‘God-fearing art’, painted under the constant threat of impending doom: a fragment from ‘The Last Judgement’ by Hieronymus Bosch (ca. 1520)

Lenin Nuclear Power Plant had exploded. Apocalyptic terror mushroomed around the world, particularly in Germany: the peoples of neighbouring nations looked on in shock and awe as German parents whisked children out of their sandboxes and pored over radiation tables as though they were biblical prophecies.

In today’s doomsday scenario, rats and cockroaches are the only beneficiaries.

It was not the first time that the fear of nuclear destruction had assumed the mantle of doomsday. For decades Europe had been wedged between two geopolitical poles, a face-off in which each party threatened to press a red button with cataclysmic consequences for all. Stanley Kubrick’s black comedy Dr Strangelove is just one of many films and books to distil apocalyptic visions from this balance of terror.

The doomsday scenarios of our scientific age are many: films like Wolfgang Petersen’s Outbreak and Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later conjure up the dread of killer viruses and genetic

tests gone horrifically wrong. The Matrix movies are powered by fear of a computerised world gone haywire, as was the reallife hysteria about the Millennium Bug. Climate change too inspires the more pessimistic theoreticians to issue forecasts of imminent catastrophe. And apocalyptic visions are experiencing a revival on the political stage as well: in the Middle East ISIS is preparing for a cultural war to end all wars, while in the US and Europe right-wing demagogues are arguing that immigration from abroad is heralding the downfall of Western civilisation.

It is worth noting how much more gloomy the end of the world has become! In the good old days, the day of reckoning ushered the chosen ones into a kinder era. In today’s scenario, rats and cockroaches are the only potential beneficiaries.

But the question still remains. When?

Richard Gott, whose last name means “god” in German, thinks he has the answer. A Princeton University professor of astrophysics and the author of the ‘doomsday theory’, Gott got his original idea while pondering how much longer the Berlin

ATLAS 69

Wall would continue to stand during a 1969 visit to the divided city. There was a 50 per cent probability, he calculated, that he would be visiting the Wall during the middle half of its existence. And as it had been built eight years earlier, the eight years could represent a minimum of 25 per cent of its lifetime or a maximum of 75 per cent. Based on this sum, he concluded that the Wall would continue to exist for at least another two and a half years but no longer than a further 24. Gott also predicted that there was a 50 per cent likelihood that the Wall would fall between 1971 and 1993. And, Gott be praised, he was quite right. It fell in 1989.

The scientist then applied his experimental theory to the timeline of the human species. To render his forecast more meaningful, he raised the probability level to 95 per cent – which, of course, also increased his predicted range. We have inhabited this planet, Gott began, for some 200,000 years.

With a probability of 95 per cent we will therefore not be here for more than 7.8 million years, but we still have at least 5,100 years ahead of us.

That’s reassuring. Not least as Gott’s methods can be applied to almost anything. For example, you – my esteemed readers – have just read 2,376 words in this article. As a consequence, with 95 per cent probability, there will be between 61 and 92,664 words to come before it ends.

Sometimes, however, the end is ‘nigher’ than we think.

Jens Mühling, born 1976 in the German city of Siegen, spent two years working for the main Germanlanguage newspaper in Moscow before becoming an editor at the Berlin-based daily Tagesspiegel in 2005.

He has won several awards for his reports and essays, and his first book entitled A Journey Into Russia was nominated in Britain for the Dolman Travel Book Award. His second monograph was released in German in March 2016: Black Earth – A Voyage Through Ukraine.

70

Eastbound connections: Thonet Stories Gebrüder Weiss sponsors project studying the reception of a design object in Georgia

V

iennese coffee houses are un­ thinkable without it: the model 14 Thonet aka ‘bistro chair’.

Since the mid-nineteenth century it has been one of the most widespread and top-selling design pieces in the world.

Most continental Europeans are likely to have set themselves down on one at some point in their lives. And it is even represented in the world of art: the ­Viennese coffee house chair plays a prominent and visible role in the Georgian artist Niko Pirosmani’s most famous painting, ‘Woman With A Mug Of Beer’, which is on display at Georgia’s National Art Gallery in Tbilisi. But how did ‘Chair No. 14’ find its way into this picture?

In conjunction with the International Design School at the Georgian Technical University in Tbilisi, and with ­support from Gebrüder Weiss, the Viennese University of Applied Art’s project THONET STORIES: Tracking a Distribution Process – Deconstruction of the Thonet No. 14 is studying the cultural links between Austria and Georgia by reference to the chair and its design. On behalf of Atlas , we spoke to the project’s director Tatia Skhirtladze.

Is it still possible to work out how the Viennese bistro chair found its way to Georgia during the last century?

We are scrutinising this question within

An original 214 is easy to identify. The company emblem and year of origin are branded into the bottom of the seat. The chair was redesigned in 1960, with the round seat giving way to a trapezoid shape – a concession to comfort.

the scope of our project. Broadly speaking, there were two routes into Georgia back then, both of which started by taking the Danube as far as the Black Sea. From there, the first route then led towards the former Russian Empire, roughly to Odessa, while the second ran from the mouth of the Danube to Constantinople (now Istanbul), and then headed eastwards. To determine which was actually taken, we are currently in contact with Thonet’s head offices in Germany, while our project partners in Georgia are conducting their own research. We will be presenting the findings in Georgia at the end of October.

What influence did the Austrian ­monarchy in Vienna have in southeast Europe?

The Austrian monarchy was extremely influential, which is demonstrated not

least by the development of health resorts in Georgia. For example, the spa in Shovi was established in 1929 on the initiative of a Georgian physician who had studied medicine at the University of Vienna from 1905 to 1910; he then imported the style into the Caucusus.

Are there any efforts to revive these links?

The project THONET STORIES: Tracking a Distribution Process is seeking to reactivate these former networks. We are using art and design as the vehicles to this end. But there are also flourishing links between Austrian and Georgian winemakers. Efforts are currently underway in Austria to grow and popularise Georgian Kvevri wines which are fermented in clay amphoras.

What is the end game for the project?

What are you hoping to achieve?

The plan is for the Austrian students to undertake two journeys along rivers.

To this end, they are currently building a floating raft of sorts using recycled remnants from Thonet chairs.

The first trip will start in Vienna on the Danube and then head east, as a kind of artistic re-enactment of the old distribution and transportation channels. At the end of October, a second journey will take place on the River ­Mtkvari in Tbilisi to mark the project’s conclusion. | MH

71

Where are you going?

HARALD MARTENSTEIN on moles and popes,

perfectionists and sceptics

I

f two people are travelling together, one typically has a slightly better sense of direction than the other.

For e ­ xample, whenever I – as a young man – went out with somebody else, I always assumed I had the worse sense of direction. I simply followed my companion. He or she, I surmised, would know which way to go.

At the age of 16 I hitch-hiked with a friend right across Europe. We made our first stop in Lucerne. We wanted to see a concert hall in the historical city centre and set off chatting excitedly, kept walking for a good while, until we suddenly found ourselves at the end of a blind ­alley, surrounded by garages and industrial buildings. Then we realised that our minds were both working the same way.

Without mentioning it, we had both assumed that our companions knew the way. If one of us coincidentally swayed slightly, the other registered this as a signal and strode into and along the sidestreet leading in that direction. Needless to say, we didn’t have a clue where we were.

People who believe they have an ­unerring sense of direction represent a completely different problem. A few years after the debacle in Lucerne, I was together with a woman who was convinced she could instinctively find her way anywhere – a bit like a carrier pi-

geon. Wherever we went, she always wanted to take a shortcut, avoiding at all costs the kind of straightforward route to our destination that a sightless mole would follow. She knew, she felt, exactly where every detour led – without of course referring to a map. As a result, we frequently found ourselves exploring dead ends and hardly ever arrived on time, not that this ever shook her selfconfidence. On one occasion we were in Mainz where I grew up. It was her only visit to my home city. On the banks of the River Rhine, an elderly couple asked us how to get to the main station. I was about to explain when she took hold of my arms, stopping me in my tracks, and gave them directions herself. In my opinion she was guiding them to the marshes that ran alongside the Rhine at the city limits. At that point I realised that I had let myself in for a difficult relationship.

The physically constrained (human moles who have no bearings whatsoever), the perfectionists who always want to find the shortest way regardless of the consequences, the male and female ‘popes’ who consider themselves infallible in m ­ atters of orientation, are joined by one other species: the sceptics. These generally leave navigation to their companions, while constantly expressing doubts and criticisms. ‘Are you absolute-

ly sure we need to turn off here? I recall us going another way.’ or ‘We should have taken the dual carriageway after all, not the motorway. We would have arrived long ago.’ Sceptics consistently utter dissent but, like some populist poli­ ticians, decline to take responsibility themselves.

And if everything has gone well and you arrive on time, sceptics declare: ‘See, I told you all along’ – the same phrase they parrot if you get hopelessly lost. But if you invite one of these bleating sceptics to take the wheel, they say: ‘Now don’t play the martyr, I’m only trying to help.’ Having started out life as a mole, I have evolved over the years into a sceptic.

Harald Martenstein authors the column ‘Martenstein’ in Germany’s ZEIT Magazin and is an editor at the ­Berlin-based newspaper Der ­Tagesspiegel.

His most recent book is Nettsein ist auch keine Lösung: Einfache Geschichten aus einem schwierigen Land.

The next ATLAS : Concentration

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orientation from a to b, from south to north to the sea, the valley, the plain to rome, calcutta, home and so forth we seek our direction in vain some will always follow their heart some put the sun to the test others trust GPS to chart dogs simply run with the rest business or pleasure – it’s all the same we tire of navigation the journey itself is not the aim it’s having a destination

INGO NEUMAYER pens poetry and a German language blog entitled Twelve Lines on Time (www.zwoelfzeilen.com). He lives in Cologne.

Translated from the German by Mary Fran Gilbert & Keith Bartlett.

ATLAS No.  7: With news, views, interviews and pictures galore powered by a fascination with a world on the move.