Libertas 20

may 2011

journeys

Published by Youth Association Creactive

l a i r o t i _ed Dear readers,

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Libertas releases it’s new issue just after a month filled with important happenings. We saw Fidel Castro getting retired, talks of reconciliation between the groups Fatah and Hamas appeared in the news, the youngest son and three of Ghaddafi’s grandsons were killed giving new hope to rebels, the british Royal Family saw another wedding, pope John Paul II was beatified and US president Barack Obama declared Osama bin Laden dead. All these are but some of the news that shocked and made the world reflect most in the last weeks, yet Libertas focuses on something that doesn’t appear on the media often: the will and the consequences of travelling.

In this issue, we would like you to dive into the magnificent world of journeys, something very common to everyone living the 21st century, but also a very important step on the growth of all of us. Traveling is fun and enjoyable, but it helps you broaden your horizons and helps you get out of the comfort zone. Why is that so important to us? Being out of the comfort zone makes you think outside the box, leading to creative and innovative solutions for home-based problems.

And, of course, learning about different cultured and getting to know new people is much easier when you’re away from home. Not to mention the feeling of freedom we all have when you get someplace no-one knows you.

Also, in this issue we are welcoming two new team members. The beautiful looks of Libertas are now in the hands of Carolina Santana, our designer from Brazil. And we can’t forget Kiko, from Macedonia, whose hard work is keeping you updated on everything new on the web. Very warm welcome to both of them!

Enjoy this issue of Libertas and stay tuned for Libertas+, coming on the 15th of May, on the theme “Living in a multicultural world”.

Daniel Nunes

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04 While I’m Flying 07 Nothing will stop him from travelling

09 Freestyle Travel 10 When travelling is something more than Sightseeing

14 Going first class on the road less travelled

16 The day Osama died 18 One solitary flight: the diary of a seagull

23 A traveller’s guide to fashion 30 Pigs in Maputo 31 Travelling away to home

Libertas 20 journeys published may 2011

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I´m writing on a plane, while travelling alone from Istanbul to London

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On the air, above the earth: people, animals, plants, the sea, the buildings, everything...keeps below. From here everything seems calm, with a peaceful atmosphere. Here you’re closer to the sun, closer to the light, the life.

I’m writing on a plane, while travelling alone from Istanbul to London, which is almost two borders away. I have just the right amount of time on my hands to write this article, surrounded by the blue sky and the sunshine through the window. In the air you take all in perspective, the problems become smaller; here you think about what really matters, who you really care about.

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text and photos:

Ángeles Lucas

Just like reading good books serves for eliminating prejudices and stereotypes, travel can help you break them up through the five senses. The plane is taking off, and so I leave Istanbul behind, while snowing on 10th March, as a paradox, because apparently it’s sunny in London. Right there, with that fact and my first experience I’m breaking clichés, even if it’s a coincidence.

Just eating a chocolate bar on the plane, I always think it’s like having a restaurant in the sky A guy told me once about the difference between being a tourist and a traveller. I’d go for the latter. Being a traveller means knowing the customs, try and learn some language, consider the social services in the area, get to know locals who will show you interesting places. Being a tourist is to stay organized in a circuit, with everything scheduled and not blending with the place you visit.

For me, travel is a deep run into the daily lives of others, and critically observing their rights, their facilities, their behaviours, food, culture... and just talking with someone from there or taking a local bus instead of a taxi. Believe me you can take it!

When I arrive to London, I will take the subway, because I enjoy observing people’s outfits and behaviours. I’ve been there before, and it happened that in only one wagon we managed gather from more than ten nationalities, all of us going into the same direction...

To me that’s amazing.

One friend of mine taught me about cultural relativism, and I really liked it. It means to accept all cultures since the human rights

are general for everyone. A trip, considering the topic under discussion, can show you many situations in the world and maybe can even make you react or take part in something you consider interesting to improve or stress, always in a respectful attitude.

And to keep in mind every detail, writing a travel diary and taking pictures are essential to me.

It helps me keep the heartbeat of what I experienced on the way. And of course, the best souvenir for me is a napkin, a food recepie, a leaf, a bird feather, a little stone, sand...

Right now I’m going to take a picture. As I look out through the window wondering what to write, I experienced another sensation. There are mountains, where the white snow is mixed with the clouds and you can’t differenciate what is what. The clarity makes me almost blind, and I can’t look back at the computer. And just eating a chocolate bar on the plane, I always think it’s like having a restaurant in the sky.

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Now I’m feeling some turbulence, but I like it. Nothing happens, just you lose a bit of the stability, although I think this is one of the aims of travel: face challenges, get to know yourself in other situations, break your daily routine, have new experiences. You try to eliminate barriers such as language, foreign currency, food, temperature... I’m making an effort to listen what the pilot informs us through the loudspeaker.

It’s always hard for me to understand.

But this is the point as well. All these situations make you stronger. Maybe in this simple case I should improve my English. Or sometimes, when travelling, you could find yourself in extreme situations. But by approaching it, you bring out your reaction skills, improvisation, how to solve a mishap, the ability to react quickly to unexpected problems...as using sign language, trying to arrange an accordance, taking strength you didn’t know from yourself or other unknown capacities.

And when you travel in group, it’s interesting to take decisions as a

I think this is one of the aims of travel: face challenges, get to know yourself in other situations, break your daily routine, have new experiences

team, respect others, taking initiatives or responsibilities for something. Or respect the group steps even if you’re hungry or sleepy. It helps you to control yourself too, which enriches your spirit.

Travel makes you aware of what you have, what we do not have, or what you are missing, and where the limits of happiness in each location are. But I also like travel within the same city or town.

Travelling is also an attitude that you can implement in your daily life. The personal enrichment gained by travel is also to be happier in your daily life.

The hotspot is making your life baggage full only with hope, openness and desire to discover everything and help as much as possible. My plane is landing, so I’m finishing this reflecting trip.

Now I will start another one on the tube, and then another visiting my friend, and then going back to Istanbul, and then listening to a song, and then reading a book... not just writing while I’m flying, but travelling while I’m living. ] ! [

Nothing will stop him from travelling Anita Kalmane photos: Barnabás Nagy

For 27 years old Hungarian

Barnabás Nagy travelling is not the same as for most of us, young people. Mostly all we need to do is decide where we have not been yet, get a ticket and be on the way to our holiday place. It is not the same for Barnabás as he needs at least one month to prepare for any trip abroad, paying the utmost attention to accommodation and public transport. Being physically handicapped and walking with two sticks, Barnabás is exploring the world in his own way.

Please, introduce yourself!

I am a 27 years old linguist majored in History and English, specialised in American Studies. I have been working as a TV editor, but I am changing my jobs quite often. I am physically handicapped in a country where one is not supposed to be handicapped. I guess I am quite unique in the sense that, in my view, it is a very small factor in my life. I like travelling and I have visited more than 30 countries until now. I am walking with the aid of two sticks.

In general, I prefer travelling alone since travelling in a group can be too fast for me.

You said that you are a linguist. Which languages do you speak?

My mother tongue is Hungarian. I speak fluent English, I have intermediate knowledge of Turkish, excellent reading skills in Latin and I can understand colloquial French. I also picked up some Korean while watching Korean soap operas. I also took Swedish lessons for a very short time, because I lost a bet against a friend. The loser had to apply for a Swedish course, but I actually gave up after a month or so.

Crazy! All those languages are so different. What is the reason behind learning them?

Turkish comes from loving a girl, English from being a fan of Hollywood, French – from respecting Louis XIV and Latin – from being keen on classical authors such as Seneca and Cicero. I have never chosen any of them only for practical reasons. I would not say that I am good at learning languages, but if I start one, I am able to do it for 16 hours per day now and again. Sometimes I forget to eat all day long while learning Turkish.

interview.

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Do you also use a wheelchair?

I have one, but I do not use it in my everyday life, I used to use it only at the university campus. When I am abroad, I am walking, and I try to use public transport for free, as a matter principle. If the public transport is not free of charge for handicapped people, then I am not willing to remember the word „ticket”. I do not speak the local language with a conductor. In my opinion, the public transport should be free for us because an able bodied person is able to “choose” walking, as opposed to a handicapped person, who does not have this freedom.

Is it harder for you to travel comparing to other people?

Yes, it is. I must organise everything at least one month before the trip. I am reading all the laws concerning handicapped people, at least five different online tourist guides, I am checking the level of the Hungarian diplomatic relations and trying to get in contact with a physically handicapped person from the place I am going – usually through a friend or Facebook. The core part is organising the accommodation. I cannot save money on that.

Have you ever noticed that people have a different attitude towards you while travelling?

It depends on the culture. Usually it is not about me but the local society. For example, Germany is perfect, in my view, but in Turkey it is very hard being physically handicapped because they are not used to people like me on the streets, living a normal, complete life. For example, one of the most prestigious Turkish airlines once did not allow me to embark, because I had not told them in advance that I am physically handicapped. I have noticed that sometimes they have the tendency for over-helping us in Austria and the Scandinavian countries, from my point of view. ] ! [

freestyle travel

There are so many beautiful places in the world and so many possibilities for travel, even if you haven’t got much money

T ravels are important part of our lives, espe-

cially for youth. For a whole year we are living for one dream – have a vacation or a holiday and leave our daily life for one-two weeks.

Everybody chooses a travel based on money, time and other aspects.

Some people usually say: “We just need a good beach, sunbathing, and a sea”. But now I want to talk about other things. Very often youth and also some adults prefer another traveling style, choosing not to depend on a guide, a tour agency, time or hotel. More and more people are visiting Asian countries: Vietnam, China, and Thailand. Almost each city has a hostel. As for food, some restaurants are not expensive, although sometimes it is not really a healthy food. Train tickets are also not expensive. As a result this kind of travel let you save money, find new interesting people and gives you a good experience.

Also many tourists would like to take a train by Trans-Siberian railway ( the biggest railway in the world). You have one week to spend on the way from East (Vladovostok) to West (Moscow or SaintPetersburg). Of course it’s really hard to travel such a long time by train; therefore tourists usually

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Artem Kirzyuk

make stops in different cities for 2-3 days. Now big cities started to open hostels.

If you decide go by Trans-Siberian railway, you must consider some aspects. An important thing to say – Russia is a dangerous country. For example, you should be careful in China from cheating sellers. In Russia you must be careful everywhere! In our country, the crime is really bad. In China there are titles in English language in many public places (subway, stations supermarkets). In Russia you can find those only in Moscow and Saint-Petersburg, but not everywhere like in Peking. As for English, it’s not too easy to find people who know foreign languages. So, if you like real adventures – welcome to Trans-Siberian railway!

There are so many beautiful places in the world and so many possibilities for travel, even if you haven’t got much money. So, let’s start to plan your travel in advance, think about your route, and search for a travel team (but it’s better if you find this team on the way), get visas, buy tickets and… hello adventures!

Many tourists would like to take a train by Trans-Siberian railway

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when travelling is something more than just

SIGHTSEEING

text and photos:

Evgenia Kostyanaya Travel has become cheaper and even students can afford that by saving money

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Buses, trains, airplanes‌No matter which means of transport is required, or for how long we are going to travel, or what thorough preparation might be needed for a journey, we feel this constant desire to MOVE, SEE other countries, MEET other people. You feel this unbearable desire to let your eyes see something new.

But what is the ground for this? Is it simply that we are so curious about other nations, cultures? Then why not just buy a book on the history of a country or a guidebook and sit peacefully in your corner? So the question remains: why do we travel?

Traveling is the best way to fight prejudices

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If we look back into history we will find out that long, long time ago people used to travel to establish economic contacts or to find place for a new settlement. It is somehow stunning to realize that it is only in the past 20 years or so that we are able to travel more or less freely! Travel has become cheaper and even students can afford that by saving money. Political events also made conditions more favorable for traveling. Just imagine – even our parents didn’t have the chance to travel as we do now.

The interconnection of markets and economies makes it possible to get a job abroad and live there for a while. And still, there are people in poor countries that cannot afford even enough food for their families!

It is traveling that makes us realize these differences in the world, helps us understand better the reality, allows us to open our eyes and indeed SEE the world, with all its good and bad sides, and makes it possible even to help where it is needed!

Whatever you may read in books or see on TV, reality is reality, and it strikes you more when you see it in real with your own eyes, when you talk to people and when you make your own judgments upon what is happening in this or that country. Traveling is the best way to fight prejudices. Working together with foreign people and sharing your ideas, views on life, discussing problems is the best way to understand that we are all the same.

Oddly enough, you get a fantastic feeling when you understand that we are all different and at the same time we are all the same. Mark Twain put it well: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.” Broad, wholesome, charitable views of people and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in a little corner of the earth all life”.

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It is well-known that “traveling broads your mind”. I think it is partly because it is a challenge, and challenges tend to crush the boundaries and help you see the real you, help you understand what you are really capable of. One of my favorite quotes about traveling is this one: “I met a lot of people in Europe. I even encountered myself” (James Baldwin). I believe this is the most valuable encounter that can happen to you.

So maybe we travel because we want to feel free? When you travel, you are yourself, you are just you; you are not a student, you are not an employee who has problems with the boss or not; you are just you with your interests and desire to explore. You are not playing any role that we all tend to play in society, you return to the original you.

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Some people would urge that it means that in that way we just hide from reality, and ourselves, from our problems at home that we are afraid to face. But I am certain it is not so. Traveling makes us more independent, we go out of our “comfort zones”, and we have a challenge. And we change, and this change is for the best.

We feel that these memories will stay with us longer than those of long working hours in the office Our self-esteem rises when we know that we were capable of finding our way in Venice at night or that we hitch-hiked all over Iceland. We feel that these memories will stay with us longer than those of long working hours in the office.

Moreover, according to some research, people who have lived abroad are more capable to solve difficult problems, because it gives you a sense of creativity! And this goes from the broadness of mind! In a very interesting article of the Observer, Jonah Lehrer states that distance does matter.

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When we stay at home, we cannot view the problems objectively, but once we look at them from distance, we might see a very easy solution which would have never come to your mind if we stayed at home. As Lehrer says, this “leaves two options: 1) find a clever way to trick ourselves into believing that our nearby dilemma is actually distant, or 2) go someplace far away and then think about our troubles back home. Given the limits of selfdeception – we can’t even tickle ourselves properly – travel seems like the more practical possibility”.

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Indeed, it does happen to me that while traveling or upon arriving back home, you start to look at ordinary things from another perspective. You feel that you are maybe no longer limited in your means of solving the problem, that it is just the brain that puts limit on that.

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In conclusion I would like to cite an Icelandic wisdom: The old Vikings used to say (about a thousand years ago): “He is truly wise who has traveled far and knows the ways of the world. He who has traveled can tell what spirit governs the men he meets� (from Elder or Poetic Edda). ]![

Festival Mawazine

Huge, successful and free, Festival Mawazine is a celebration of world music, its diversity and rhythms. Every year, some 1500 concerts, street performances and art exhibitions attract millions of spectators to venues across Rabat.

Colombian superstar Shakira, Nelly Furtado and Yusuf Uslam (once known as Cat Stevens) are all already confirmed to appear in 2011.

what Festival Mawazine where Rabat, Morocco when From May 20th to May 28th, 2011 website http://www.festivalmawazine.ma/

Going first class on the road less travelled

text and photos:

Neal Parsons

14 is there anywhere in the world that is truly unchartered, that you can go to get lost in?

We will go through at least 11 different countries, seven different time zones, cross two deserts and drive untold miles over road less terrain ‘An idea doesn’t exist unless you do something about it’ – John Petts

In my first year of university my friend Luke and I hit upon an idea, to join the Mongol Rally and drive from London, England to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. The year was 2005, and we were but 19 years old. Instead of doing it, however, we simply told everyone we were doing it and then more or less forgot about it. Somehow, in the excitement of telling our friends and family that we were going on this mad adventure we forgot to actually go on it. For the following six years this pattern has repeated itself. Until now.

In the summer of 2011 Luke and I will embark on the Mongol Rally: a charity car-rally from England to Mongolia. We have paid our entry fee, we are raising the required £1000 for charity, we have a

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website (www.firstclasstravellers.co.uk) and a car is being sourced. We will go through at least 11 different countries, seven different time zones, cross two deserts and drive untold miles over road less terrain. After the initial excitement and bewilderment settles the question that most people ask, and the one I keep coming back to, is: why would two twenty something guys with no rally experience and no knowledge of car maintenance want to spend up to eight weeks toiling to cover 8000 miles? And all for charity?

The lure of the road-trip has been well documented, be it Kerouac’s On the Road, the Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s Road-Tripping or any number of Hollywood films. But in our age of GPS , Sat-Nav and

smart phones is there anywhere in the world that is truly unchartered, that you can go to get lost in?

You see, the Mongol Rally is about more than just seeing new countries. It’s about the challenges you face on the way there, through, and back.

Let’s start at the beginning. When you sign up to the Mongol Rally you are signing up to full responsibility, for everything. You have to find your own car, do your own fundraising, decide upon your own route, apply for your own visas, sort out your own vaccinations. And along the way it’s the same set-up; if your car breaks down you fix it or you walk, if you get stuck at a border crossing you sort it or you go home, if you get lost you find your way or you stay lost. There is no support team, there is no help.

So it’s about more than just getting from A-to-B, it’s about learning to take care of yourself, to organise yourself and take full liability for your choices and decisions. And that is the true appeal of this trip for Luke and I. There are of course secondary appeals, seeing the wonders of Central Asia for one. It is a part of the world full of historical, cultural, and economic significance yet is seldom visited by Europeans and compared to South East Asia or South America, very few people have a working knowledge of the area.

Our journey will take us through both the Gobi desert in Mongolia, and the Kyzylkum desert which straddles the Kazakh-Uzbek border. We will have

to either go through or around the Altay Mountains, and a half-dozen nature reserves and national parks. Which is not to suggest there is an absence of interesting towns and cities to see too; as well as passing through the landmark cities of Tashkent, Bishkek and Almaty we will also stop off in the culturally noteworthy towns of Bukhara and Samarkand. The latter is home to central Asia’s most remarkable Islamic monuments, full golden domes and minarets, which have caught the eye of everybody from 20th century poet James Elroy Flecker (who wrote The Golden Journey to Samarkand in 1913) and Alexander the Great, who upon capturing the city remarked, “Everything I have heard is true, except that it’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

I haven’t the space to detail all of the other things that excite me about this journey, much of which can be summed up as the thrill of the unknown.

But more than just seeing things and doing stuff, this journey is about the bond of friendship too.

No matter what happens, whether we make it to Ulaanbaatar or not, Luke and I will have to support each other, look out for each other, and work together in everything we do. And this can only bring us closer together as friends. Which, in all, is why we wanted to do this back in 2005 anyway. ] ! [

more than just seeing things and doing stuff, this journey is about the bond of friendship too

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The day Osama died Katelyn Kivel

The moment I watched the announcement was surreal

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Ten years ago, there was a day that defined the American existence. I was so young when it happened, in Grade 8, that the tragedy of 11 September 2001 has been a cloud over nearly half my life. And at the start of this month, something remarkable happened: that cloud lifted. 1 May 2011, the man who was responsible for an attack that shook America deeply was killed.

There’s a catharsis that comes from hearing that, for an American. We have spent ten years learning how to fear and hate someone so deeply that we considered him the root of all evil. And it doesn’t really matter if we’re justified in feeling that way or not: we were hurt really deeply by him. We let Osama bin Laden’s attacks on America change what it meant to be an American, and not for the better. We compromised who we were to try to feel safe. Any single person to inspire that kind of fear may just as well be the root of all evil.

The moment I watched the announcement was surreal. I don’t personally believe in capital punishment, and certainly I want everyone to have a trial, even if they are already known to be guilty. I think that those things are moral. Osama bin Laden did not get that from us, he got shot in the face, and amazingly I don’t really mind. That was the power of that man, he corrupted our ideals. He changed us. I hope, deeply, that we can change back now.

President Obama told the world that this wasn’t a war on Islam, and he never once used the ambiguous phrase “war on terror”. It was concrete, the day Osama died; we were at war with a specific cell of terrorists. We were at war with Osama bin Laden. And we got him. Of course, there were going to be more bad guys to take his place, but we got the one we all wanted to get. It

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was a visceral war, it was sending wave after wave of Americans into the desert, getting lost, attacking the wrong people, but eventually finding the guy who hurt us.

My country has behaved pretty badly for the past decade, but that’s what this did to us. I consider my ideals to be very moral and humane and even I felt good hearing that we killed Osama. I don’t really say this seeking forgiveness from the world, but saying that whatever we became, it was to bring about this moment. And now, there’s a sense of healing. Maybe we can get better now, maybe not.

“I’m still absorbing it, thinking about it,” said Karl Hokenmaier, a Foreign Policy professor at Western Michigan University, “[but] terrorism is not suddenly going to go away with bin Laden’s death; the danger is still very real.”

Hokenmaier cited the fact that American media has painted bin Laden as the personification of terrorism, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. The truth of the matter is that America hasn’t done anything to combat the causes of terrorism, the equivalent, he said, of treating symptoms instead of the underlying disease. “Why is there terrorism? What is to be done? Bin Laden’s death has not answered these questions,” Hokenmaier concluded. Without being able to answer these questions, the victory is merely symbolic.

But maybe symbolism is helpful. Jesse Smade, a Business student at my university, feels confident that the death of Osama will have a strong affect on the uprising across the Middle East and northern Africa.

It was a visceral war, it was sending wave after wave of Americans into the desert, getting lost, attacking the wrong people, but eventually finding the guy who hurt us

At the end of the day, symbolic victory may be just what we needed here in the States. We aren’t really safer; in fact we probably need to worry about retaliation. As Hokenmaier said, we haven’t addressed any of the causes of terrorism, and without doing that we can only wait for the next bin Laden to darken someone’s day. But we’ve spent a decade in fear, a decade trading our beliefs for a sense of safety. We have offered most of the basic rights we believe in back to the government to protect us from bin Laden.

So maybe we aren’t safer. Maybe we won’t be until we change how we’re doing things in our fight against terrorism. Maybe that isn’t what 1 May 2011 was about. Maybe 1 May 2011 was about healing. About becoming America again. And things like really addressing terrorism, things like making ourselves the version of us we’ve always believed in, those can be the goals of the next decade.

We just needed catharsis first. We needed to heal.

Maybe that’s what we’ve done.

At the end of the day, symbolic victory may be just what we needed here in the States

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_events

Juneau Jazz and Classics

The Juneau Jazz and Classics festival presents classical, jazz and blues music at venues all over Juneau, Alaska, including onboard cruise ships. The festival also includes workshops and family entertainment.

what Juneau Jazz and Classics where Juneau, USA when From May 6th to May 21th, 2011 website http://www.jazzandclassics.org/

one solitary flight the diary of a seagull Claudia Melchiori

Dear diary,

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The city at this particular time of the year seems rather still. After a long frozen winter I managed to remain quite fat. Besides food I turned out to be the quite talented relationship consumer. Don’t think garbage, although that could be rather wanted on this frosty prairie, think medicine students or young people generally. Frustrated? How can I? My mother always told me that I could someday flourish beautifully into a gentleman but not a ladies’ man. That’s how she explained to me my precocious marriage –honeybunn, to be sure.

However, it’s been years since, now I’m just contempt with the fact that simple matters are always those that move indifferent lifetime events.

Today I get the pretzel crumbs for the show, the humans manifest a strange crossing-over of beaks and time passes by conveniently. At least the world doesn’t lack of dandies.

Family? Always complaining about the fact that there is not enough trout. It’s always about the trout with them. If life happens it’s always the lack of trouts’ fault. How can you explain the unexplainable? That’s why I started looking much more often at my powerful shrivelling wings, wondering how far they could get me. Life is just one prosy garbage, again, I’m not

brainstorming.

hungry, I’m just hearty.

I could give an eye for one more early afternoon spend in the company of the unabashed and gracious female Mallards, they’re such inaccessible creatures.

Don’t mind my lustful tone, I’m just a failure, but strangely enough there’s no frustration in that. I had all the occasions to be an asshole, instead of doing that, I got married.

The departure I’m not running away, they just don’t want me around. After my unexpected meeting with our gull chief they politely told me so. I am old and useless. We politely agreed upon the gentlemen’s retirement.

France was their only option. After giving me some references I could not understand because they have spoken without using any pauses, we politely wished our best.

On my way home, I started to think about my family. The gull code doesn’t allow during retirement any travel partners. You’re basically on your own while they try to marry your wife with somebody more

accountable. You might say I’ll be okay after returning home, but is there any palpable return we should speak of? Changing the subject, France is not a relief. The Great Lakes would have been, but then again, life doesn’t always give you salmons. Tuna isn’t such a bad start either.

Italy I have arrived to the worst case scenario ever. Thousands of pigeons pecking me away from their food. Gull-Lord, please kill all the pigeons and serve them for breakfast to the Italian gourmets. I feel quite lonely down here.

According to my plans, I must find a place to sleep and leave tomorrow after dusk to reach the destination.

Travelling alone is a pain in the tail and so much more. You have no one to share ideas except yourself. Knowing that you’re boring doesn’t boost the spree of introspective conversation either. I’ve drunk a little too much from a Leffe glass someone left on the terrace and it’s funny because I can’t focus the Millan dome. Everything seems excessively kinaesthetic for the moment.

Good evening temporary nest. To be clear, I am not drunk. As I practice bedding on the cool rock of an important construction as I’ve heard, my wings start becoming my worst enemy.

The one you know it’s there but can’t see. That’s how I stare at them and mentally challenge them to move. They just won’t listen. Probably, it’s the beers’ fault that everything in this feathery shield seems so dead.

Strangely though how death chooses to speak throughout the crippled.

France - part one Parlevous francais? Excuse me? Parlevous francais? I am not deaf you idiot, I don’t parlare francais!

How can you send a gull in France without teaching him French? Great start. I am sitting on a fountain in the middle of nowhere looking at the stupid French speaking pigeons!

I don’t know if I’m dead and this is hell, but it’s surely hot down here.

My wings still hurt that’s why I’ve decided flying was not an option for the moment. Judging from the parlare guy, here is France, I don’t understand a single word and French fountain water is excellent.

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Hello? You idiots understand English? Guessing from the adorable apish looks, there’s no illuminate idiot around to point out directions.

Whither?

By the way, I forgot to tell you, here humans play different kinds of games, pretzels are overrated, and croissants are hip.

France - part two

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She told me that my French is horrible. Her coarse annoying voice plays over and over again in my narrow mind like a sharp knife trying to blunt the terrible desperation. I am acting like a painful uncomfortable pensioner. Walking besides her is fulminantly challenging. I feel like a quiescent museum hanging there just knotted by a reason I could not explain. Her name is Marla, she’s a rock singer and a single mother that picked me up after my callous speech at the fountain. We walked and it was abominable. I guess it wasn’t a beer that pierced my force but a dozen rose spikes that caused invisible bleeding all over.

Pity was the only feeling I didn’t need so I acted playfully and skilled like a teenager. She bought it and came along telling me about her friends, how she decided to leave her life because it made no sense and took everything from the beginning without any help, shelter and food.

Strangely as it may seem, she’s quite young and fragile at a first peek but speaking from the inside, while tying up the broken strings you witness a desolated view. Gulls come to life from different experiences, as long as they’re still viable. Today we’ve managed to reach the shore, the breeze stroke my pain and numbed it like an efficient medicine. Strangely I reminiscent my old pals, the medicine students.

brainstorming.

The France - part three Never before have I put up with emotional situations. One question though that obsesses me from a point in time. Do gulls cry?

There’s no human activity over the rocky steep ferocious view that stands at my tormented body. Marla went fishing. Somewhere down, there’s a bustle of beings staring at her because she’s marvellous. Without words I see her grace floating like a feather above the sea. I feel water crumbling down from my head. It’s the rains’ attitude towards terminal depression. My vision starts trembling for one minute and the wind produces a strange change of roles.

There, in the deep of the deepest game of waves lies the most doubtless, confident and fearless character I have ever imagined, myself through the vision of the best architect the gulls described. It is here, on this trivial piece of rock that I feel just for a glimpse like an eagle between the gulls. I could have loved females like Marla with courageous and innocent perspectives, wander the crowded streets of Italy with bohemian friends in search for half-empty bottles, peck the wonderful lime that coats the narrow walls of my compelling France. Instead of doing that, I dedicated my happiness to the irrelevant needs of my dearest. And for what price?

The price of my freedom. Yet I come alone in this dreadful life with the fake feeling this will finish agreeable. So it does.

] ! [

s t n e v e _ International Human Rights Film Festival

One of the first dedicated to the cause in Latin America, the International Human Rights Film Festival puts on feature films, shorts and documentaries by local and international film-makers in Buenos Aires' Centro Cultural Recoleta and Santiago del Estero.

what International Human Rights where Buenos Aires, Argentina when From May 19th to May 25th, website http://www.imd.org.ar/

Film Festival

2011

21 Great Wall Marathon First held in 2000, the Great Wall Marathon is a race with a difference. Part of the course takes in the challenging slopes and steps of the world's largest man-made edifice, the Great Wall of China.

what where when website

Great Wall Marathon Tianjin, China May 21st, 2011 http://www.great-wall-marathon.com/

6th “Mostra de Design” The purpose of the design show, organized by Café com Letras, is to promote debates about design and other themes alike.

This year, the theme of the show is “design, politics and common interests”, and activities include exhibitions, workshops, seminars, visits to agencies, a pic-nic and much more.

what Mostra de Design 2011 where Belo Horizonte, Brazil when From April 29th to May 29th website http://www.mostradedesign.com.br/2011/

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photoshoot.

23 text and photos:

May Naomi Blank

Summer is fast approaching, the flights for your overseas backpacking trip are already booked and the air smells like adventure. If only it wasn’t for the actual packing of the bag and the inevitable question: Do you want to dress to impress or to hike mountains?

The typical backpacker’s dress code seems to be dreadlocks, cargo shorts with 15 pockets, tacky Red Bull t-shirts and a shark tooth around the neck.

Not too glamorous, thought May Naomi Blank, a photojournalist from Germany, who tried to find a way to combine high heels and travel accessories for the Libertas backpacking fashion photo series.

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photoshoot.

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photoshoot.

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photoshoot.

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Pigs in Maputo Pig cartoons of life in Mozambique

by Iris Yan

Someone from Djibouti

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In a different continent

very day: / for more, e logspot.com .b to u p a m pigsin

pigs in maputo.

Travelling away to home Ramon Martensen She carries a suitcase with stickers of destinations on it. A written address somewhere in Spain, France, Mexico, Italy... They might as well all have been little portraits of the men she hoped to love.

Now the suitcase is in my hallway and my portrait is written in signs I don’t even understand myself.

‘Hello,’ she says. I notice blue lines running down her hands. Something that belongs to a figure that stretches itself from her back, all over her body. The lines are also on the hand with which she holds the suitcase. Like it is the nose of her backanimal that tries to smell what is inside. It is on her back to protect her because she is willing to fly all over the world to find another disappointment. It is the thing that whispers positive thoughts in her ear when she is feeling down.

‘Hi there,’ I answer with a smile that is drawn from my dreamworld in which I was resting just minutes ago. She is wearing a butterfly around her neck which is caught on her necklace. I wonder if she ever puts it on the nightdesk when someone is sleeping next to her.

My clothes are all over the ground. Never been bound together by the walls of a suitcase. I never had the guts to fly towards disappointment.

The only portraits I own are the pictures on my wall of destinations I will never visit.

‘Where can I put this?’ She holds up her luggage and smiles. Her head a bit withdrawn into her shoulders. She is shy. The phoenix that whispers confidence looks wrinkled on her shoulders.

I sit up and feel how one bulb of fat wraps itself around another. Like my belly is trying to eat itself. Making itself smaller and bigger at the same time. A line is drawn between the two sides. Preventing them from attacking one another. She is staring through her glasses.

brainstorming.

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The greyness of her eyes is a lighter shade caught in the glass.

Like it caught its aura and is now holding it up for me to see and to grab maybe. Just let them stick on my fingertips so I can decorate my walls with it. To be seen by her from every angle.

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She strokes the handle of her suitcase while she pops her lips.

Like the tail of the phoenix is waiting for her final decision about whether to grab the suitcase or let go of it entirely. I put on a shirt that was lying on the ground, twirled around my pair of jeans. She lets go and the hand seeks mine. It wants to be grabbed before it will touch the void for too long. I am holding her hand and shaking it. A smile runs over her lips and she looks down to the ground.

‘This is a bit unexpected,’ I say to her. She is looking around at my posters. The one with the church on it, the ones with the mountains and the waters. ‘Huh, what?’ she asks while she draws herself from the images. I smile a bit.

‘That your visit is a bit surprising.’

She sits down next to me and let her head drop on the mattress. A small wave moves the blankets.

‘To me it’s not.’

‘Of course not, you are the one who decided to come here.’ She turns her head my way. The head of the phoenix is watching me from her shoulder. Its eyes are sharp.

‘But I like it,’ I say.

‘Really?’

‘Uhuh.’

She sits back up and jumps from the bed. She turns to face me. Her hands folded into each other. She

brainstorming.

wears rainbow coloured bracelets around her wrists. ‘So, do you think I am pretty in real life?’

She turns around for me to see every part of her. She has tucked her shirt into her pants, to hide where the phoenix ends. Her trousers are army green and her tank top is purple. The wings of her backbuddy are caged by the straps.

Only when fingers like mine let them slide off the shoulders, will the beast be fully released to give its comments.

‘Wait, you will even be prettier.’

I take her glasses and remove them. Her eyes narrow instantly, like she was using the glasses to see her surroundings more vaguely.

She looks at me through her touching eyelashes. I put the glasses back on her nose.

‘This way you can see me better like I want to be,’ I say with a smile. She says nothing in return.

She just stands there. Looking down on me with her hands folded in front of her body. She lets the wingtips touch; it is shocking a bit because with the thumb of one hand she scratches the palm of the other. Like the beast is itching her to do or think something. But her eyes are still caught staring at their own reflections. I would like a cigarette now to blow fog between our faces. To let the ashes from which the phoenix is born swirl down all over the room, because it is the kind of animal that can only rest when it is spread over many different places.

‘Can we get something to eat?’ she asks me. ‘I am really hungry.’ She didn’t bring any food because she knew we would eat together. She has forgotten all previous disappointments. In her mind they are now steps to learn to deal with the real thing.

‘Let’s go into town then. We will find a place,’ I say. She smiles and I let one of my coats slide over her shoulders. My smell, my history, My home! are covering her body. I smile while the phoenix’s eyes disappear behind my protection against the cold. It is gone and she is waiting to get out and visit the place that I call home.

She taps her steps on the pavement. The slippers she wears are only attached to her feet by the rubber bands with little pink hearts on them. She likes to be able to quickly leave her footsteps at the door when she arrives and pick them up even quicker when she leaves. Her significant sound only appears when she is moving.

She takes a bite from the sandwich she is having. Bits of meat sticking out of the sides. She lets death dance between her jaws.

Drops of ketchup land next to her feet. She gives me a kiss while she chews and smiles at me. The reflections of neon lights slide over the reflected auras of her eyes. They seem to be stretching them. Behind all the different sparkles there are other sounds to be found. Behind every arc of neon-light some different notes, behind every colour a different laughter. I know them all, the different shades of mumbled gossip and cried out sentimentality. She looks at the windows while we pass them.

‘Everything looks the same here,’ she says while she shoves the last part of her sandwich in her mouth.

‘Kind of boring,’ she is chewing and looking up to me with a smile that is marked on both sides by ketchup. She can wear food like it is make-up. The purpose of her beauty is short-termed enough for her to feed on it. I look her directly in the eyes and smile. With the tip of my tongue I lick away a drop off ketchup. ‘You silly boy,’ she says while she gently pushes me away. We start walking again with a drop of her disposable beauty still sticking to the other side of her mouth.

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I look into the distance. See the flickering of the streetlights getting more and more suffocated by the darkness of night. The further it I look, the rounder the bulbs, floating in the air. Only the light that is close penetrates the blackness with its tentacles.

‘Let’s sit down,’ I say to her while pointing to a bench. Trees are randomly spread around the square. Like players of a paused football game. Their trunks have pushed up the pavement surrounding them, and in front of it a river strokes both sides of the city.

‘Look, over there.’ I point at the bench with the statue of a goat above it. As a kid I once threw it off its socket. The next day it was up there again.

‘What an ugly thing,’ she says while looking up. Some kids have covered the statue with cigarette papers. Like it has a pack of feathers which it is losing one feather at a time. The wind is jerking on one of them. The goat does not care. He has been covered with graffiti, mud and other things. It changed only his surface. The bronze has captured its unchangeable pride.

She is still looking up to it, her lips form short words of unmelodic disgust.

‘I can understand why they tried to give it wings,’ she says. ‘So the ugliness would finally be able to move itself out of their sight.’

brainstorming.

I stare at my feet and pick a leaf from between my feet. I am holding it and stroke the curves with my fingertips. I follow the turns and twists, the gentle swirling. She watches me doing it. Only through following my finger can she see the story that is hidden at its surface.

‘What are you doing?’ she asks.

‘Touching this leaf.’

She takes it from my hand and throws it to the ground. I stare at it while it lies there, sticking to a squashed plastic bottle.

‘Just leave that alone. Even the tree found it too boring to hold up.’

She holds up my hands and stares at the palms. ‘What a shame,’ she mumbles supposedly to herself.

‘Hands that will never have the chance to feel the African sand or the water of the Atlantic Ocean.

Never feel an Australian cactus.’

I pull the hand from her comforting fingers. Like she was comforting it to get over the terrible wrong I have laid upon it.

‘At least I give my hands the chance to feel the nuances of the things I let pass through them.

I let them hold the things they love.’

She is sitting there, next to me.

Staring at the hands that are not holding her. Eyelashes are touching her glasses. Stroking their surface at every blink of her eyes. Repeatedly but never making a definite mark on them.

‘You will never try something new.

You are like the old guy who never tries to listen to new music because he keeps on saying no one will ever beat the fucking Rolling Stones. You are an old man with black hair,’ She says it while staring down the river.

‘Well, at least I am able to hear every small sound in it. You just hear beats. You are a restless dancer on speed.’

She stares at me with her eyelids pressed together. Now the eyelashes are curled by the pushing of the glass. The tail of her phoenix is stretched by the tension of her thumb pressing the skin of her hand. She stands up and takes off her slippers. She walks towards the water and throws them in.

They float for a while before the water closes itself over the top, pressing them down.

‘Here,’ she says. ‘Bare feet. I can step over any soil without being afraid of what I will find under my feet.’

I stand up. ‘But you will always have to run because otherwise things from the soil will penetrate into your feet.’

She lets the coat slide from her shoulders. The warmth and cosiness of a home I tried to give her, fallen on the ground. Her only home is where expectations and reality are still to meet.

‘Do whatever you want,’ I say. She lifts her shoulders. It looks like the first flapping of the phoenix’s wings. Every step a stronger movement. She will be lifted up soon. Carried above the streetlights. The last shatters of light lost out of sight till there is nothing left to spread visibility through the streets. Till ground and air become meaningless.

I sigh while I lie in my bed again. I turn around and close my eyes. Surrounded by posters of places I will never visit, taped to wallpaper I chose myself. ] ! [

_events

European Beer Festival

During the European Beer Festival in Copenhagen, visitors have the chance to see some of the old Carlsberg premises such as the beer cellars and the horse stables. Beer-related activities are hosted in venues across the Danish capital.

what European Beer Festival where Copenhagen, Denmark when From May 26th to May 28th, 2011 website http://www.beerfestival.dk/ Cannes Film Festival

Cannes is the biggest and most famous film festival in the world. Most of the action takes place at the famous Palais des Festivals, although screenings do take place all over town.

what Cannes Film Festival where Cannes, France when From May 1 1th to May 22nd, 2011 website http://www.festival-cannes.com/

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photo: Alexandre Fonseca Libertas Team: Daniel Nunes Vladimﾃｭra Brﾃ｡vkovﾃ｡ Dragan Atanasov Kristijan Nikodinovski Scott Pinkster Christine Moore Ivana Galapceva Carolina Santana

Contributors for this issue: ﾃ］geles lucas Anita Kalmane Artem Kirzyuk Claudia Melchiori Evgenia Kostyanaya Katelyn Kivel May Naomi Blank Neal PArsons Ramon Martensen

All texts published in Libertas represent solely the opinions of their authors, not of the magazine or of its publishers. Libertas and creACTive are not responsible in any way for the contents of the articles, or for the photos published with them.

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about us: Youth Magazine Libertas was founded in September 2009 as a project of Youth Association creACTive.

Youth Magazine Libertas aims to be a place where young people from all over the world can share their thoughts and views on topics that matter for them, in this way starting discussions and working as a means of change for the future.

Every month, Libertas is published on the 5th, featuring articles about a different main topic and other kinds of articles such as movie, book and music reviews, travel destination, interview and brainstorm.

designed by Carolina Santana