Peacock Fall 2014 by The Peacock Magazine

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Volume 3.2 S PR I N G 2 0 1 4

E DITOR-IN- C HIEF Jordan Nadler

SENIOR EDITOR Paige Roberts MANAGING EDITOR Hilary Hinshaw CHEIF OF PHOTOGRAPHY Carenina Sanchez ART DIRECTOR Manuela Baron CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Matthew Erickson Claudia Galtes

STAFF WRITERS Matthew Erickson/Elemi Zafiroulis/Amanuel Neguede/Savannah Jenkins Claudia Galtes/Alexa Palermo/Isabella Rao/Pedro Paulo Ferraz/Ekaterina Vorobieva/ Pierre-Jean de Chambon/Ethan Carzon/Jordan Pilhal CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Stephanie Christofferson CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Matthew Erickson

ASM EXECUTIVE BOARD BOARD DIRECTOR Olivia Martin ASSISTANT DIRECTOR Carla Issa

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PEACOCK WINTER 2014

THE

GOOD

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Jordan Nadler

FORGOTTEN FILMS

One man’s passion for f ilm paves the way for the New French Wave movement.

FOUR GIRLS FOR FAMILY

Four young girls who traded in their Barbies for a much bigger cause

The plights and rights of Paris’s nude models

The story of Katherine Connor and the baby elephant who changed her life

BARE NECESSITIES

THE CATALYST IN THE ROOM

FRENCH “SUCKERS”

The French Millennials struggle to break out France’s economic chokehold

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THE

BAD

THE

CHAOS IN CRAYON

RUSH TO RUSSIA

WITHOUT RENT

THE CHANGING FACE OF MARY JANE

CONVERSATIONS WITH A CATAPHILE

A MOVEABLE YEAST

Who is the master baguette baker in all of Paris?

Syrian refugee children escape with their lives, but not their childhoods

CULTURE FOR SALE

A Different Perspective: What happens when Refugees end up on your door step?

Stories from the shadows of Paris.

France’s “indigenous” delicacies now come from third world countries.

8 10

SUSTAINABLE EATS

T WENT Y HAPPY HOURS

MILK, COCOA , SUGAR, SPY

A women on a global mission to curb malnutrition with the help of a West African miracle-plant

Weed isn’t just for stoners anymore.

Mathew Erickson takes us underground into the mysterious world of Paris’s secret catacombs

HUNGRY

Twenty Happy Hours? What you do with the next 10 days of the month is up to you. #challengeacepted

Michel Chaudun has spent decades protecting his chocolate empire from chocolate espionage

TINDERELL A

The cheap whore of online dating

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR We are living through an extremely sinuous moment in history. The fight between brutality and altruism has never been more apparent. While some cultures are hell bent on the destruction of others, individuals across the globe have been stepping up and doing extraordinary things for the world and its inhabitants. This issue of Peacock takes a look at monumental events taking place all over the world. As one million refugees flee the violence and chaos of Ukraine, Russians like Tatiana Kuzmina have opened their homes to families in need. Amanuel Neguede shines light on homelessness in Paris and brings us into the world of a Sorbonne-educated squatter. In Amman, Jordan, Eleni Zafiroulis takes us to a Syrian refugee camp where children, under the therapeutic guidance of The Syrian American Medical Society, have taken to crayon and paper to get through their experiences in an unimaginable warzone.

In the midst of this chaos, good things are also happening. Four young girls from New York have founded an NGO that gives poor Cambodian families access to clean water. Across the world in Niger, Lisa Curtis is helping to curb malnoutrition with a local miracle plant. She’s bringing the goods back to the States, too. Over in northern Thailand, Katherine Connor, owner and founder of Boon Lott Elephant Sanctuary, speaks to Peacock about the moment she met a special baby elephant and her entire life changed. She went from being a young woman backpacking across Asia to the founder of one of the most respected elephant sanctuaries in the world. Back in France, Peacock delved into the world of chocolate. Michel Chaudun, one of the world’s most famous chocolatiers, has spent decades protecting his famous recipes from industrial chocolate espionage. You know, because that’s a thing.

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Matthew Erickson leads us into the depths of Paris’s secret catacombs where his covert guide reveals what it takes to be a true cataphile. At the same time, Stephanie Cristofferson reveals where many of France’s famous delicacies come from, and it’s about as far away from France as you can get. Finally, the Peacock Team discusses the changing face of Mary Jane. With the expanding legalization of marijuana, and its prominence in pop culture, weed isn’t just for stoners anymore. Modern day women with college degrees and five-year plans roll joints, pack bowls and still wake up for their high-powered jobs in the morning. There is so much going on in the world at the moment, and Peacock has brought you stories from all over. From Syrian refugees to chocolate espionage, The Good, The Bad, and The Hungry have reared their heads and forced us to pay attention. JORDAN NADLER EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

A MOVEABLE YEAST By Jordan Pilhal

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azy afternoon sunshine beamed into the southern Paris apartment of artisan boulanger, Antonio Teixeiras, as the irresistible scent of freshbaked bread drifted from his lunch plate. It was a weekday afternoon in January like any other, until an unexpected phone call from Bertrand Delanoë, the Mayor of Paris, rang through the room. The Mayor was calling to inform Teixeiras he had won Le Grand Prix de la Baguette de Tradition Française de la Ville de Paris, Paris’s most prestigious bread competition. He would now be responsible for providing President François Hollande and the rest of the Elysée crew with baguettes and baked goods for the following year. As is tradition, each year every artisan boulangerie in Paris is invited to participate in the Grand Prix de la Baguette de Tradition Francaise de la Ville de Paris. In addition to being a mouthful of a name, Le Grand Prix is a prestigious competition in which a panel of judges names one lucky baker the master of France’s most famous loaf. The winning boulanger has the honor of supplying the French President with his daily bread for the next 365 days. Competition is fierce. On an early morning in January 2014, 187 baguettes were delivered to 7 rue d’Anjou on the Ile-SaintLouis by Paris’s many hopeful artisan boulangers. Only 137 of

these met the criteria for length and weight and were tasted. The guidelines that determine what exactly constitutes as a French baguette are pretty strict. Each baguette must be between 55-65 centimeters in length and between 250-300 grams in weight. It also must not contain more than 18 grams of salt per kilogram of flour. A Jury of three panels composed of professional bakers,

decided the home of this year’s champion was master baker, Antonio Teixeiras, of Aux Délices du Palais in the 14th arrondissement. It is the second year in a row that the 14th arrondissement has displaced traditional Montmartre, which is usually idealized for having the best boulangeries in Paris. (Last year’s winner, Ridha Khadher, hails from Au Paradis du Gourmand, also found in the 14th.) Teixerias’s story is one of humble beginnings. After emigrating from a small town in Portugal two generations ago, Antonio’s’ father started a small bakery in Paris. In the following years, the baker perfected his recipes, and soon made a name for himself. In1998, Teixeiras took the first place prize at Le Grand Prix, and enjoyed supplying then-president, Jacques Chirac, with his baguettes for a year. Sixteen years later, the success of Aux Délices du Palais rests largely with Antonio’s son, Anthony, who has continued the family baking tradition and has taken over many of the business responsibilities. When asked what separates their baguettes from all the rest, Anthony says it’s all about family spirit, but also their “secret” method of rising the bread. Teixeiras also added that in order to really enjoy a baguette properly, we should eat it within four to five hours of coming out of the oven.

The winning boulanger has the honor of supplying the French President with his daily bread for the next 365 days. prize-winning apprentices, bakers’ union bureaucrats, a few journalists, and previous winners evaluate each baguette according to aspect (appearance), cuisson (cooking), mie-alveolage (texture), odeur (smell) and gout (taste). After much deliberation, a decision is made and the lucky winner receives a cash prize, as well as the resulting media coverage, which guarantees a line of customers down the block for the unforeseeable future. For it’s 20th year, the Grand Prix de la Baguette de Tradition Française de la Ville de Paris

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CULTURE FOR SALE BY STEPHANIE CRISTOFFERSON

Many of France’s “indigenous” delicacies now come from third world countries where labor is cheap and profit is big.

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W hat do cornichons, escargot, frog legs,

and black truffles all have in common? If you’re thinking “French delicacy” you would only be half correct. All of these sought-after food items, heralded as traditional components of French cuisine, have stopped being produced in France and are instead imported from other countries. In France, globalization means more than just access to McDonald’s and iPhones. The deeper implications of technological advances in production methods, coupled with a reorganized supply chain, means that many of France’s prized cultural items can be produced elsewhere and imported for much cheaper. Suddenly, it makes little economic sense for French farmers to grow cucumbers for cornichons; the task has now been handed over to India, where labor is cheaper and production more extensive. But can this shift in production be explained by simple economics, or is there more to the story? Globalization, a broad term which refers to the developments that have served to better connect and integrate the entire world, significantly picked up speed in the 1970s. This is largely due to advancements in container ship technology, which facilitated large-scale international trade. Suddenly it was much cheaper to engage in culinary trade relationships all over the world, which opened up new markets and introduced new food items to a truly “global” marketplace. While this meant greater access and affordability to exotic goods, it also meant increased competition. “Cheap” versions of traditional products began to crowd out the originals, resulting not only in a loss of culinary authenticity, but in reduced economic success for local producers. In France, the classic escargot from Burgundy is in danger of being pushed out of the market by cheap Eastern European imposters. Snails exist in a legal gray area – they are not considered meat, and therefore are exempt from strict French law which requires the country of origin to be clearly marked. Creative labeling often leads to the impression that the snails were caught in France, when in fact they were simply a French variety. La Maison Escargot is a shop

in the 15th arrondissement in Paris specializes in all things escargot. Behind the counter are several dishes of “escargot bourgignone,” a traditional preparation of snails using garlic, butter, parsley, and the Helix pomatia variety of snail. When asked about the origin of the snails, the shopkeeper recited the information on the label, but admitted to not knowing exactly what farm in France they came from. Since the Helix pomatia variety of snail is one of the most endangered and protected species of snail in France, it is hard to imagine a small store could afford to produce daily dishes, as well as frozen quantities, from just that variety. It seems not only are authentic French snails disappearing but thanks to vague labeling, French consumers and even purveyors, are largely unaware. Low cost and misleading labels are two big factors in the loss of truly French snails; but another threat to this gastronomic tradition is the invasion of the New Guinea flatworm. Yet another effect of increased flows between countries, the New Guinea flatworm is believed to have arrived through agricultural imports and now threatens French snail populations. The worms can survive at temperatures as low as 10 degrees celsius; this explains why snails in Eastern Europe are still thriving. Another major factor of globalization is the massive increase in global population. There are simply more people in the world than there used to be, and since World War II there have been very real fears that we will outstrip our resources. While frog legs are hardly a “resource,” they are a French gastronomic heritage item, and the issue surrounding them is indicative of the negative effects of population growth. In France, commercial frog hunting has been illegal since 1980 due to near-extinction of the amphibian. This has forced the French to turn to other countries such as Indonesia, India, and Bangladesh to feed their nearly 80 million frog-a-year consumption habits, and in turn is endangering frog populations in these countries as well. As a direct result of increased export demand, India and Bangladesh were forced to ban frog hunting in the late 1980s, leaving

One of the worlds

most expensive foods is now

in danger of being

eclipsed by a cheap Chinese fake.

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Indonesia as the major Asian producer. Overhunting in Indonesia today due to increased demand is disrupting local ecosystems that rely on frogs to catch pests and tadpoles to stabilize aquatic environments. France might be protecting its own frog population, but is it really worth the destruction of another ecosystem for a product that is no longer as traditionally French as it once was? Yet another “French” product that has transformed in the face of globalization is the prized Périgord truffle, an expensive French delicacy. These are globally renowned as one of the most culinarily prestigious truffles, and a sign of France’s traditional gastronomic heritage. But one of the worlds most expensive foods (at €500 per kilogram) is now in danger of being eclipsed by a cheap Chinese fake, which goes for only €30 `a kilogram. This means a huge profit for the seller, if they presume to advertise the Chinese fake as an authentic French truffle. Of course the increasing prominence of the Chinese fake truffles is not only due to the financial incentive of shady restaurateurs and truffle sellers, but the

decrease in authentic French truffles. Production has dropped from 800 to 20 tons in the last century, driving the price up even further, and making Chinese fakes all the more appealing. In selling these fake truffles, the Chinese producers are not just selling an imposter of a high-quality food item, they are selling an idea: the gastronomic heritage of France in the elegant symbol of the highly sought-after truffle mushroom. The truffle encapsulates a legacy of French gastronomic prowess and regional significance. France’s culture is being sold and bought on the global market. The question that arises now is, is French culinary tradition really worth all of this? The French are notorious for stubbornly holding an assimilationist, nationalist view of their culture. They take great pride in their gastronomic heritage, and have put forth several measures to protect it. The AOC label designates foods that contain some kind of cultural heritage and follow high standards of traditional production; restaurants must label which dishes were made from scratch; a boulanger cannot legally call his establishment a “boulangerie” unless he has personally overseen every component of the breadmaking, from flour to baking, without any frozen or processed ingredients. Yet we still get Chinese truffles, Indian cornichons, Eastern European escargots, and Indonesian frogs legs. Is it time for France to change its tastes, or will these faux versions of delicacies be a good enough substitute, the memory of France gastronomy sufficient to satisfy French palates? Perhaps the most dangerous part of this shift in French cuisine is its subversive nature. With many of these products, the origins are obfuscated or downright falsified. Fake truffles hidden in real ones or Romanian snails falsely labeled as French are a threat to the future of gastronomic tradition in France because ultimately, consumers still believe in an imagined French cuisine. They are being tricked into contributing to the perpetuation of the loss of traditional French foods. While there are many arguments for and against globalization, the real difficulty here is that consumers are being given false information and cannot therefore make a choice for or against it. The choice is being made for them, through the culmination of various processes into an unfortunate fabrication of authenticity.

France’s culture is being sold and bought on the global market. The question that arises now is, is French culinary tradition really worth all of this?

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It is becoming more and more obvious that France to keep customers happy. But in terms of falsified is changing in light of globalization, and that some goods like Chinese truffles, he believes French custraditions will not survive. Overpopulation, environ- tomers would not buy them if they knew, even for a mental degradation, and simple economics all play into cheaper price. Magali, another producer working for the changing nature of many products and traditions “Bar Aux Saveurs,” a small farming operation operatthat were once traditionally French. One such process, ing just outside Paris that produces mostly potatoes, the French outdoor market, has been significantly af- admits that she sells Chinese mushrooms (although fected and forced to adapt its economic model to an not truffles), but keeps them underneath the table industrialized food industry. With so many grocery as a reserve when everything else sells out. She also stores and supermarkets to provide near-constant food believes that French produce is of a higher quality, access, local markets featuring artisanal, handcrafted, and admits that while the Chinese mushrooms may authentically French ingredients became a once-in- not be as good, it is necessary to buy products from a-while splurge experience rather than an everyday elsewhere in order to profit today. shopping necessity. As a result, farmers found it difGlobalization has shifted its purpose from disficult to turn a profit selling their wares. Many have tributing exotic delicacies from all over the world transformed into a hybridized model, the “producteur to exploiting products and places in order to drive maraicher” that both sells and produces food items. prices down and meet rising demands. The products One such example, Millot Didier, has a stall at the discussed here are in no way considered staples of a posh Saxe-Breteuil market, in the shadow of the Eif- basic diet for human sustenance and survival; they fel Tower, every Thursday morning. Augustin, one of are all delicacy products and presumably the demand the employees for Millot Didier, explained the shift for them comes from wealthy Western (French) conin French food culture as one of changing demands: sumers. Interestingly enough, the shift in production “We have all we need from France; the products from flows from France, a developed, Western country, to France are better. But we respond to the customers, so largely developing nations where labor is much cheapsometimes we take products from Kenya or Spain when er. In light of this observation, we should consider they are not available from France.” Augustin explained the dark side of globalization; is it simply a process that while some of the products are grown on a small that better connects our world and brings new prodfarm just outside Paris, the rest are bought at a bigger ucts and cultures to our attention, or is it simply an international market at Barbés-Rochechouart in the echo of colonialism, an economically-driven form 18th arrondissement. Augustin sees import competition of imperialism that restructures production chains not as a threat, but an opportunity to blend traditional to benefit developed societies? French production with a new economic model in order

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SUSTAINABLE EATS By Savannah Jenkin s

“I t’s not lack of food, but lack of

nutritional value...imported foreign aid food doesn’t do the trick.” Call it sustainable eats. Peace Corps volunteer Lisa Curtis’s digestive system is not immune to the malnutrition inside the Niger village in Western Africa, where the thermometer reads 31 degrees Celsius on a cold day and many of the inhabitants lick whatever residue is left from discarded wrappers they find lying around. Such is reality in this West African nation that largely subsists on millet, beans and foreign-aid food that woefully fails to satisfy the basic dietary needs of the 40% of Nigerien children suffering from malnutrition, according to the World Health Organization (WHO). “I was not suffering in anyway as badly as the locals in the village where I worked, but I was feeling really weak and really tired – you know, I wasn’t getting a lot of different nutrients in my diet.” So is there a solution to this persistent problem?

Indeed, bring on the moringa. A resilient plant which not only thrives in conditions that would kill most, but has high-levels of iron, potassium, calcium, protein and both vitamin A and C all within the surface of its tiny leaves. Curtis sought out the moringa plant

Americans have shown their willingness to pay for healthy food. But what about sustainable food? early on during her time stationed in Niger. “The nurses told me it was really nutritious and that I should start eating it so I began to include it in my diet and very quickly began to feel better.”

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The arid landscape of Niger receives as little as 2cm of annual rainfall, and that’s if it’s not evaporated by the Saharan heat before hitting the ground. The moringa tree (Moringa oleifera) has a solution for that; it’s drought-resistant. The dry climate does nothing to deter its growth, as it can reach 15 feet in its first year alone. The almost magical effects that moringa had on curing Curtis’s early stages of malnutrition have been recognized by government agencies like USAID, which actually initiated a large-scale plan to cultivate the super-food in African regions where hunger was rampant. But it was the local attitude toward moringa that prevented its wide-spread success. Moringa is seen as a poor man’s crop. Exotic, weird sounding and oddly textured foods might sell in the US with the right marketing, but the hard part was disassociating the moringa tree with hunger, famine and drought in the minds of Nigerian locals. “People still considered it very much to be a poor people’s crop because it grows during the hunger

season- which is when the last harvest is running out, before the new harvest arrives. It’s the main time when people often go hungry. By promoting the benefits of the plant, people began to see the value in eating moringa.” In effect, Curtis incentivized local women to cultivate moringa that was then in turn sourced and introduced into US markets in the form of health bars, combatting the slightly bitter taste of the vitamin-rich leaves with delicious tastes like dark chocolate, almonds or cherries. Lining shelves of grocery stores across the US, are hundreds of vitamins, pills and any other creative form that allows the average American to take all 7 of the daily recommended nutrients in one swig (that is, protein, fat, carbohydrates, sugars, sodium, dietary fibre and saturated fatty acids if you’re keeping track). Multivitamins are only quick-fixes that do little to satiate hunger. Nutritional value has become a mere supplementary aspect of American diets. It might be said, and possibly rightly so, that organic has become synonymous with expensive, but Americans have shown their willingness to pay for healthy food. But what about sustainable food? While kale, acai berries and tofu have all had their time in the spotlight as the musthave superfoods of the moment, they’re becoming overshadowed by the real superstars; foods that aren’t just good for you, but good for the planet. A terrorist attack cut Curtis’s stay in Niger short, but the seed was already planted. Curtis started her company Kuli Kuli that same year. The name of the business itself stems from a local Nigerien dish whose main ingredient happens to be moringa. The vital component that has also linked US demands with African interests under the umbrella of Kuli Kuli. Since the early days of Kuli Kuli when Curtis and her team made the bars themselves from her kitchen cum workshop, the health bars are now sold in over 200 stores across California and

ship to all 50 states. “We started really small. We all had day jobs. It took three of us 6 hours to make 200 bars which is not sustainable at all. We spent all of Saturday making them and then all of Sunday testing them and went back to work on Monday.” Sustainable. A word Curtis uses frequently and a goal she strives for in her business practices. Kuli Kuli is the first company to introduce moringa into US markets, no small feat, but perhaps its greatest accomplishment is the work being done at the local level – a level often overlooked in the process of trying to help as many people as possible, as quickly as possible. The problem with working “topdown”, as is the case with foreign food-aid, is that it cuts out the local farmers. US efforts to combat famine

are laudable in their intent, but the massive influx of corn, much of which is specifically grown for the purpose of food-aid to suffering countries, it’s only a short-term solution to a problem that will only grow the more you feed it. “We take all of this corn and dump it in places like Niger. In the US, we’ve really developed this procedure where a lot of farmers produce solely corn that we then just export as subsidized food to other countries.” Then the local farmer that did have crops can no longer sell them because now there’s a bunch of free food in the markets, making it impossible to compete.” It may contradict the image you have of famine, but in actuality famine is largely detrimental because of a serious lack of nutrients, not food. As Curtis explains, “There is still food; people are still eating around 2 meals WI N T E R 20 14

a day, however the micro-nutrients is severely lacking.” While moringa offers 7 times the amount of vitamin C in oranges, 4 times the amount of calcium in milk, 3 times the potassium in milk, and 2 times the protein in yogurt, there is still a giant gap concerning health standards between developing and first-world countries. The United Nation’s highest officials announced last year that 2013 would be the “International Year of Quinoa”, indicating a serious push towards integrating super-foods into global markets. Quinoa is a grain crop packed with nutritional value and undemanding in terms of cultivation, another one of Earth’s gifts that has largely been overlooked outside its indigenous habitat. The next step will be getting people to put down the meat knife in favour for more environmental friendly foods like quinoa, moringa and kale. The trick is doing on the sly, where people don’t feel as if they’re drastically changing their diets. Lisette Kreischer, a Dutch entrepreneur, has done just that with the creation of her “Dutch Weed Burger.” The main ingredient? You guessed it, authentic, home-grown Dutch seaweed. Kreischer stated in an interview with The Guardian that the burger wasn’t meant as a “vegan alternative,” but rather to encourage people to think twice about choosing meat. “The population is growing and so is the demand for proteins, but the Earth remains the same size; so we need to look at other sources.” Lisa Curtis, the 26 year old social entrepreneur who’s already dedicated her life to protecting the environment through sustainable business practices, echoes a similar sentiment, “We’re adjusted to a certain temperature and a certain way of living on this planet but we’re reaching a tipping point where things just won’t be the same on this planet anymore if we keep on as we are now.”

1ST ARRONDISSMENT Le Dernier Bar Avant la Fin du Monde Address: 19 Avenue Victoria Metro: Châtelet Happy Hour: Monday through Friday-16h-19h Prices: 6,50 € cocktails

2ND ARRONDISSMENT La Cordonnerie Address: 142 Rue SaintDenis Metro: Strasbourg-SaintDenis Hours: 15h-2h17h-20h.

20TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Mo’town Address: 116 boulevard de Ménilmontant Hours: everyday 10h- 2h Metro: Ménilmontant Happy Hour: 16h-22h Prices: 3,50€ pint on select beers 5€ cocktails

19TH ARRONDISSMENT Café Cheri Address: 44 Boulevard de La Villette Metro: Belleville Hours: 11am to 2am Price: pints 3,50 € 18TH ARRONDISSMENT Chez Francis LaButte Address: 122 rue Caulaincourt Hours: 8h-2h Metro: Lamarck- Caulaincourt Happy Hour: 18h-20h Prices: 5€ drink + small plate, seasonal vin chaud 17TH ARRONDISSMENT L’Orée des Champs Address: 35 Avenue des Ternes Metro: Ternes Hours: everyday Happy Hour: 18h-21h Prices: 5€ pint, 6€ Cocktails

3RD ARRONDISSMENT Le Bistrot de l’Horloge Address: 7 rue Bernard de Clairvaux Metro: Rambuteau, Étienne Marcel Prices: 3,50 pinte, 2 euro shots, and cocktails for 4,50. Hours: 15h-2h

Twenty Happy Hours? Challenge Accepted.

16TH ARRONDISSMENT Frog XVI Address: 110 bis Avenue Kléber Metro: Trocadero Happy Hour: 17h to 20h Monday-Friday Prices: 5€ pints, 20€ jugs (2.3L), classic beer and coctails are reduced 3€ euros, 15TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Comptoir Moderne Address: 26 Rue de la Croix Nivert Metro: Cambronne, Avenue Émile Zola Happy Hours: 16h-21h Prices: 3,90€ for 50cl drink of your choice

4TH ARRONDISSMENT Little Cafe Address: 62 rue du Roi de Sicile Metro: Hotel de Ville, St. Paul Happy Hour: 17h-20h Prices: 6€ cocktails, 6,50€ coupe de champagne, 5€ pinte (50cl)

5TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Melocoton Address: 10 rue Descartes etro: Cardinal Lemoine Happy Hour: 17-22h Prices: pinte for 3,50€, cocktails for 5,50€, and pastis for just 1,30€.

6TH ARRONDISSMENT La Venus Noire Address: 25 Rue de L’Hirondelle Metro: St. Michel-Notre Dame, Odéon Happy Hour: 18h-21h Prices: 5€ pint, 6,50€ cocktails

8TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Comptoir Boetie Address: 99 Rue La Boétie Metro: Saint-Philippe-duRoule Happy Hour: 16h-20h Prices: 5,50€ cocktails 10TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Comptoir General, Address: 80 quai de Jemmapes Metro: Jacques Bonsergent prices: 5€ pint, 5€ cocktail

7TH ARRONDISSMENT L’Eclair Address: 32 Rue Cler Hours: 7h-2h Metro: Ecole militaire Happy Hour: 7h-2h

9TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Bistrot du 9eme Address: 1 rue Frochot Metro: Pigalle Happy Hour: 16h-20h Prices: 5€ pinte of Stella, 5€ cocktails: mojito, pina coloda, caiprinia, margarita 11TH ARRONDISSMENT Bastille Bar Address: 14 Rue de la Roquette Metro: Bastille Hours: 9h-1h, closed Sunday Happy Hour: 18h-22h Prices: 3,50€ Pint, 4,50€ glass of house punch, 5€ champagne

14TH ARRONDISSMENT Les Artistes Address: 60 Rue Didot Metro: Plaisance, Alésia Happy Hour: 16h-19h Prices: 5€ pints, 5€ cocktails cocktails priced at a mere 5 Euros a glass.

12TH ARRONDISSMENT Le Tarmac Address:33 Rue De Lyon 75012 13TH ARRONDISSMENT Metro: Quai de la Rapée Le Samson Hours: 7h30-1h Monday Address: 9 Rue Jean Marie through Friday, 8h-0h30 Jégo Metro: Place D’Italie or Corvisart weekends Happy Hour: 17h-20h Hours: Mon- Sat 11h30-14h30, Prices: 5,50€ pints, 5,50€ 18h-23h30 Prices: 6€ drink of your choice + cocktails, 5,50€ selection of wines small plate

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MILK, COCOA, SUGAR, SPY Pierre-Jean de Chambon Goes Undercover to Unwrap the Deep, Dark World of Chocolate Espionage

Photography by Carenina Sanchez

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“You can’t patent a chocolate recipe,” Vasseur rues. “Chocolate never sleeps.”

he passageway into the on the Ginza in Tokyo, the Parisian laboratory of Michael reclusive 69-year-old chocolate Chaudun is dark, narrow and maker has established a global forbidden. confectionary empire that churns out 17 tons of chocolate “You can’t go in there,” warns Thibault Vasseur, who’s spent a year. That number may seem the past seven years guarding daunting, but it dwarfs in the secret formula that’s made comparison to the 389,000 tons Chaudun chocolate one of of chocolate France consumed the world’s most sought after last year, according to the bespoke treats. “The industrial country’s Chocolate Union. spying on our chocolate is “You can’t patent a chocolate grotesque. The big chocolate recipe,” Vasseur rues. “Chocolate companies like to use our never sleeps.” Neither does recipes.” Chaudun’s customers’ demand. “I’ve been coming here for 20 Indeed, from Chaudun’s years, and the 25 kilometres that flagship store in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, to his outpost now separates me from his store

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have never bothered me,” says a female customer who drives from the countryside to Paris for Chaudun’s chocolate despite having moved years ago. But Chaudun’s guerrilla chocolate boutique would have never been under the spotlight without an important combination of circumstances. When Chaudun’s flagship store on Rue de l’Université opened its doors in 1986, the old headquarters of Télévision Française (TF1), one of France’s most watched television channels, sat meters away. When TF1 had a story that involved

chocolate, they would go to Chaudun for his opinion, and he gradually became their goto connoisseur. The multitude of chocolate-related reports TF1 did over the years (this is France, after all) allowed Chaudun to gain recognition as a serious contender in the world of gourmet chocolatiers. The fame he gained from his new-found notoriety did not only come with advantages, however. The attention TF1 gave the chocolatier made him known not only to the French public, but to the incredibly competitive members of the cutthroat confectionary world. People within Chaudun’s own industry set their sights on his store and made it their mission to procure and replicate his meticulous secret recipes. Chaudun created the Petite

Pavé, which rocked the co- focused on chocolate makers in co world. While some define Paris says,” Chaudun’s Pavé is the delight as melting once a classic among classics, like a chocolate truffle but square.” But the Petit Pavé was the target of “grotesque industrial spies” — as Vasseur repeats — who were looking for the next great thing to pirate. To fight this chocolate espionage, Chaudun made sure his brigade was armed and prepared, forbidding access to his laboratory from anyone not part of his five member squad. 200 meters from the Eiffel Tower, two chocolatiers bustle about making sure his storefront is running perfectly. Trained and taught by the master himself for more than ten years, they in mouth, others say that it both maintain an impressively is simply “incomparable to fast pace while guarding the anything one can try.” An kitchen’s secrets. Airfrance magazine’s article

To fight this chocolate espionage, Chaudun made sure his brigade was armed and prepared, forbidding access to his laboratory from anyone not part of his five member squad.

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The soon-to-be retired Chaudun has amused himself by collecting four thick folders of international chocolate bars made from his stolen recipes. Back in 1991, Chaudun loosened the control of his production and developed his activity abroad. Following multiple invitations from Japanese investors who were interested in bringing his chocolate to Asia, Chaudun decided he could not refuse the great opportunity. A few months after his encounter with the Asian market, his first store was established in the hustle and bustle of the world-city of Tokyo. Then a second. Soon after, a third store went on to open in Yokohama, and Chaudun realized expanding his business had been a great success. His war against spies became no longer manageable; the opening of his “baby” to the Japanese peninsula marked the end of his battle against the horrific multinationals that he has been fought for the past 28 years. The only drawback is that while he is able to supervise the production of his beloved product in Paris, he is unable to do the same in Japan. Multinationals have consequentially been able to gain greater access to the “baby of his life.” As he developed his stores in Japan, he created a trademark that allowed him to receive loyalties from the sales, but also loosened the monopoly of the processes of production. “The concept is the same in Japan, they use the same recipes, the same chocolate,” Vasseur pauses, before adding that they do use their own butter and creams for “sanitary reasons.” After Chaudun’s success in the Japanese market, other French chocolatiers like La Maison du Chocolat and Hediard set their sights on the country, and gave its people a great new wealth of gourmet chocolate to choose from. “France has success in Japan,” recalls Vasseur, emphasising the infidelity of the Japanese clientele. Unlike in Paris, Japanese clientele tend not to show loyalty to one specific chocolatier, but go from store to store, finding their favorite treats in each. Although Michel Chaudun’s store is still at the top of the cocoa world, his son has decided not to take over the family business, and chose another career path. With no other frontrunners in line to take over the chocolate empire, Chaudun does not seem to have anyone willing to honor his legacy and recipes except the spies he has spent his life alluding.

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FORGOTTEN FILMS F rance is full of cinematic pioneers:

Roland Girard, Francois Truffaut, Roger Vadim. and many others. Now let us spare a moment for Henri Langlois, the man responsible for keeping the history of film intact and even helping produce a new generation of filmmaking. About a decade before Hitler invaded France, Henri in 1936 opened the Cinemathéque Française, the world’s first film archive and screening house. When the Nazis marched into town, Henri set about hiding some 50,000 reels of film from the Gestapo and holding clandestine screenings for the Resistance. It was certainly not an easy task, but Langlois had it in him to continue and eventually become recognized by film culture. This recognition, if it hadn’t been clearly shown before, materialized itself when in 1974 he received an honorary Academy Award for his “devotion to the art of film, his massive contribution of preserving its past and his unswerving faith in its future.” The award was certainly not all, for Langlois has been credited for influencing the birth of the French New Wave movement with his ideals and personal envisioning of the art of filmmaking. Langlois is credited to the French New Wave Movement through the influence

he estabilished from determining the types of screenings at the Cinemathéque. Langlois would show foreign films without subtitles and silent films without the music. He was known to show films from quite diverging origins, styles, and themes in in the same evening. So Although Langlois did not shoot a frame of film, he had influenced a new movement by presenting certain types of films and somehow joining them to created an unique mixture that many would soon enough denominate as the French New Wave movement. Before his death from a heart attack in 1977, Henri was able to create the Museum of Cinema and which gave the viewers an experience of the 70 years (age of film a the time) of film. Although also a great contribution to the study and proliferation of film culture, the Museum of Cinema had a short life due to financing issues. Henri Langlois was more than an enthusiast, was one of the first film experts to understand and value the idea of art preservation and its impact on culture. He not only encouraged the growth of film art but also kept it from losing its essence in the black-and-white and nonaudible images of film history origins.

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By Pedro Singery

LES THÉÂTRES CLASSIQUE À PARIS By Savannah Jenkins

Action Christine

While the name of theatre might be French Duchess Christine of France was the second daughter of Henri IV and Marie de Medici- the theatre only shows American films made before 1960. Where: 4, rue Christine - 75006 PARIS Price: 3.50 for students

Le Champo

You’ll feel like your back in the 1950’s as you watch French classics or modern independent films under the starry-lit ceiling, taking you back to the days of drive-up theaters. Where: 51 rue des Ecoles – 75006 PARIS Price: Flat rate of 9 euros with the option to pay a reduced price of 7 euros if you go during certain times and days

Le Filmotechque

As you enter on a red carpet, you’ll be presented with the choice to sit in the Salle Marilyn or the Salle Audrey, named after the two iconic leading ladies of the 1950’s. Afterwards, each guest is invited to retire for a cocktail. Where: 9 rue Champollion 75005 PARIS Price: 7 euros for students

Le Desperado

With 2 screens and a maximum capacity of 193 people, this intimate theater hidden in the 5th arrondissement is one of the best places to watch classical French films. Previously known for playing old American black & whites, JeanPierre Mocky, the new owner and famous French film director, has returned to the French way. Where: 23 rue des Ecoles, 75005 PARIS Price: 6 euros for students

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F OU R G I R L S FOR FA M I LY By Alexa Palermo

Four young girls from New York are changing the ways impoverished Cambodians get access to clean water. WI N T E R 20 14

wo girls are crying in the back of a Thai cab as it bumps through the Cambodian countryside. Rae and Emmy Specht sit stunned with tears rolling down their cheeks as the car turns down a dusty road. The taxi driver peers into the rearview mirror and his eyes flash, as he tells the young girls a life-changing story. An ugly tale, far removed from picture postcards of Angkor Temples and exotic nights in the capital Phnom Penh. “My whole family was killed by Pol Pot,” he says “I was 9 years old. Pol Pot’s soldiers killed my mother and father. I saw them kill my brother and two little sisters.” “I never saw my family after that day. I walked for days by myself. Hungry. Scared. Then a family found me and took me in.” Never exposed to such tragedy, these young girls from Long Island, NY are shaken by the heartbreaking tale. Though this isn’t the only survivor story the Specht sisters have heard first hand. Now four years later their

many trips to Cambodia have seen them have first hand experience and make connections with villages of survivors. Back in the United States, these stories resonated with these 9 and 11 year old girls. After that first trip they didn’t just come back from their family vacation with souvenirs and photos of Cambodia; Rae and Emmy came back with the realization that they needed to make a difference. Rae also recruited the help of two of her closest friends Maddie Joinnides and Clara Walke, who at the time were 11 and 10, respectively. “We quickly noticed the extreme poverty that the people were living in,” says Rae, founder of the non-Governmental Organization, Four Girls for Families. The girls they started researching methods to help the people of Cambodia and found that the leading cause of death and illness was from drinking dirty water. With 75% of the deaths in Cambodia caused by drinking unsanitary water, according to Internation-

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al Decade for Action, and 90% of the one who die are children under the age of 5. Their fragile bodies not strong enough to fight the diseases that consuming the water causes. “We started our NGO because we were in disbelief and wanted to try to help in anyway we could. We also were very motivated to help because even though the people we came across were so unbelievably poor, they were the kindest people we had ever met.” Once in Cambodia, Rae met a a four year old girl who was absolutely destitute. She wore rags for clothes and had nothing to eat. She walked up to Rae with two bright candies in her hand and offered one to Rae “Even though she didn’t have enough to eat she still wanted to share. It was very touching.” The girls from Long Island, NY were able to raise enough money in the first year to buy 800 water filters, which they distributed on Tonle Sap Lake and a second village outside of Siem Reap.

“It has also been a great experience to see how our efforts can help people. It doesn’t take much. A water filter can save their lives and they only cost $12. It’s pretty unbelievable to think you can possibly save someone’s life with the cost of a sandwich in the United States.” Each family is extremely grateful for the water filters that the girls hand out. “That’s such a great feeling and it makes all our efforts so worthwhile” Emmy, Rae’s younger sister, says. The ability for these parents to give their children clean, drinking water is a gift most of us will never understand. “We met a boy named Jerry who was 14 years old at the time, who was selling books to survive.” says Maddie, one of the four girls who started Four Girls for Families. When Jerry was seven years old he stepped on a landmine while he chased a frog, running into wooded areas where the landmines had not been cleared. His

parents put him out on the street because he couldn’t work on the farm and they couldn’t afford to care for him. “He lived on the streets and he carried around a box with books in it all day and tried to sell his books to tourists so he could afford to eat. He also had the dream of being able to sell enough books to go to college.” “It’s so upsetting. We saw tons of orphans, children wandering around in only a diaper, dirty from head to toe, and even children and adults who were missing limbs due to the civil war and landmines,” continues Emmy. Maddie says that Jerry was one of the funniest kids that she had ever met. He smiled, laughed and told jokes all the time. “He always had a huge smile on his face. It made everyone stop and think about how we fight and are in a bad mood at home - and we have everything and this boy has absolutely nothing. Every time we went back to Cambodia we would

look for him but we never saw him again.” “Our memories are more about how kind and welcoming the people are. How gentle they are. How they love to smile and wave to us. How the little kids like to run up to us and hug us. How they are so appreciative when we show up with water filters. How they bow to us to show their thanks. The smile on their face and the way they try to communicate there thanks to us. How we always feel welcome and safe when we are in Cambodia. How we like to play with the little kids we meet there. And even though they have no toys they find something to play, like bouncing rocks off each other, playing tag with us things that do not take fancy material toys to do” Rae expresses. The girls, four years older now, have accomplished so much. Just wait to see what the next four years bring for Four Girls for Families.

“ WE STARTED OUR NGO BECAUSE WE WERE IN DISBELIEF AND WA N T E D T O TRY TO HELP I N A N Y WAY W E C O U L D .” WI N T E R 20 14

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THE CATALYST IN

THE ROOM By Jordan Nadler

An unexpected encounter with a baby elephant led Katharine Connor down a path she could have never imagined. WI N T E R 20 14

The moment of change - the moment a catalyst steps into the room, grabs hold of us, and forever shifts our previously planned trajectories â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that is an unforeseeable moment. 32

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t was a fiercely hot week in the Thai jungle. The sun had us up around 5AM with a calm, pulsing heat that promised to steadily accelerate. A sultry breeze tiptoed through the windows and danced with the mosquito nets draped over the beds. Outside, the daily jungle-symphony of frogs, birds, and buzzing insects began to play. For a moment, it was as if all the world was paused in a state of unadulterated serenity. Then, without warning, a window-rattling trumpet exploded through the air, into our room, and shook the floor beneath us. It then started to squeak. It was late May in 2011, and for the fourth day in a row, Pang Dow, one of twelve Asian elephants living at Boon Lott Elephant Sanctuary in Northern Thailand, had nominated herself to be our pachydermic alarm clock. She had developed quite a talent. Mornings like these are standard for Katherine Connor, owner and founder of BLES. At 33 years old Katherine has spent the last ten years securing over 500 acres of land which are now home to her husband and four young children, 12 Elephants, 2 pigs, 2 tortoises, 2 cows, 40 cats and 15 dogs. She was named one of National Geographic’s Travelers of the Year in 2013. She has become a source of comfort and reliability to the local villages around her, always offering a refuge and treatment for sick animals, as well as training for the animals’ caretakers. She has been internationally recognized since founding BLES, and was formally invited the The House of Lords in London to receive an award from IFAW (International Fund for Animal Welfare) for her dedication and commitment to animal welfare. In 2002, Connor was 21 years old and thought she knew exactly who she was. A London girl, Katherine had a lucrative position in the fashion world. She was a homeowner with a serious boyfriend and a blooming career. Everything was going exactly the way she had planned. But as she settled into her life of cosmopolitan success, an emptiness began to fester; a feeling that there was something more - something far away from city lights and killer shoes - began to preoccupy her thoughts. She quit her job, sold her house, and set off to travel around Asia for the next nine months. Six weeks after arriving in Thailand, Connor joined some tourists and went to an elephant reserve in the north. She spent the day watching elephants perform in shows, and even took a ride on one. (Now, Connor is one of the world’s biggest advocates against the use of elephants for any kind of entertainment.) As she was leaving, she passed by a sign for a baby elephant. The sign pointed up a hill, and instinctively, Connor climbed the steep path until she came across an enclosure where a beautiful female elephant was standing alongside her fuzzy-headed two month old calf. Connor had no idea that when the time came to descend the hill, her life would be completely different.

We cannot choose our catalysts. We can make decisions to change. We can make affirmations and declare our intents to the universe. But the moment of change, the moment a catalyst steps into the room, grabs hold of us, and forever shifts our previously planned trajectories – that is an unforeseeable moment. Katherine Connor’s catalyst came in the form of Boon Lott, the baby elephant who stopped her in her tracks, and would go on to become the namesake of one of the most respected elephant sanctuaries in the world. Within seconds of seeing each other, Boon Lott ran away from his mother (an uncommon thing for a baby elephant to do) and right up to Connor. She recalls, “As the baby elephant began to tug at my shoelaces, tears rolled down my cheeks. I had never even met an elephant before - but suddenly, every instinct in my body was telling me I had to care for this one.” Connor did not return with the other tourists. She begged the owner of the conserve to let her stay on, for free, so that she could care for Boon Lott. The man agreed. A few weeks into her time there, it was announced

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that Boon Lott was going to be sold to a tourist animal show where he would be “forced to wear outfits and beaten mercilessly to perform in sick acts like standing on his head, walking a tightrope and riding a bicycle.” Boon Lott had been born three months premature. Connor noted he was very weak and small, and being taken away from his mother at such a crucial time in his development could have definitely killed him. She realized in that moment she would not be leaving the conserve any time soon. She frantically contacted her friends and family back home, and in a week had raised the funds, £3,500, to buy Boon Lott and keep him with his mother. In one week Connor went from being a carefree young woman traveling the world, to the owner of a baby elephant in rural Thailand. A few weeks into Katherine’s time at the conserve, Boon Lott took a terrible fall and became paralysed from the bottom down. It was determined he would never walk again. The other elephant keepers recommended Connor put him down, but that was not an option she was going to entertain. She spent the next six months doing everything in her power to rehabilitate him, including having a therapy pool built for him at the conserve, and a race-horse wheelchair/sling sent to him from the West. In time, he started to improve. He was getting stronger, and was just beginning to stand up on his own. At night, he and Katherine would curl up together, his trunk over her body, and fall asleep. Things were looking up for the little calf. But fate had other plans. Months into his recovery, during a standard X-ray, Boon Lott fell again and broke his leg so badly the bone burst through his skin. He was too weak and fragile to come back from the stress of such an injury. He died in Connors arms two days later. A lot happened in the following few years. Katherine returned to England, crestfallen, and tried to resume her old life. But that life seemed

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frivolous and empty in comparison to her time in Thailand with her baby elephant. In the midst of her unhappiness she reached out to her friend, Anon, a Thai mahout (elephant caretaker) she had met at the conserve, who had stayed there while his elephant, Somai, was being treated for severe burns after being caught in a forest fire. In that conversation he reminded her how she had dreamt of opening an elephant sanctuary of her own. He told her if she could raise the funds, he would find the land, and they would do it together. A couple years later, Katherine and Anon established Boon Lott Elephant Sanctuary in the north of Thailand. Pang Tong, Boon Lott’s mother,

and Somai, Anon’s elephant, were among the first elephants to call BLES home. And naturally, Connor and Anon fell in love, got married, and just had their fourth child together this year. To date, BLES has become a world re-known sanctuary, and the standard by which many animalwelfare organisations hold themselves. Their elephants are rescued from all types of settings, but mainly from the logging industry, and the dire situations unknowing tourists perpetuate by partaking in elephant treks and performance shows. Last month, Boon Lott Elephant Sanctuary succesfully completed a crucial fundraiser. 54 acres of land that surround the sanctuary had come up for

sale, and it was vital that the land did not get into the wrong hands. With the help of BLES’s devoted supporters they were able to raise the needed €41,000 in order to secure the land. Not only will these acres mean more space for BLES’s elephants to graze and roam, but it will just as importantly prevent unwanted businesses from deforesting and polluting the lush area around them. Even with the success of this campaign, BLES is always in need of more support. Connor’s rescued animals often require medical care and specialized food, and every donation makes a big difference. To learn more about BLES or even adopt one of their animals, visit www.blesele.org.

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An Interview with What was the moment you knew you were staying in Thailand and not returning `to England? I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t think there was a moment when I realised I would never return to England. I remember when I first met Boon Lott. He was just two months old and the most fascinating being I had ever laid my eyes on. I had never seen a baby elephant in the f lesh before and he had me completely captivated. I spent hours with him, watching him and playing with him. He would come charging up to me and lift his trunk right in to my face and blow hard. I still remember the warmth of his breath. Every time he did this to me, I would blow right back into his trunk! The first time I did it, he squealed and ran back to his mother and I thought I had done something terribly wrong. Then, when he tip toed back towards me and blew in my face again, I realised we were playing a game and beginning to bond. Instantly, I was in love! A change happened within me. I all of a sudden felt emotionally, spiritually and physically awakened. At the time, I was 21 years old and just starting out on a backpacking adventure around the world. I thought I had my life planned out perfectly. I knew exactly where I was going, who I wanted to be - I had all the answers! Boon Lott somehow made me understand I actually had no idea who I was or where my life was heading. I was lost. In that same moment, I was suddenly aware of feeling deeply lonely and incredibly loved by Boon Lott all at once. Now, when I look back at it all, it was as if Boon Lott knew I needed rescuing.

Are any such laws in the works? Have any come about in the past few years? Yes. In Thailand, the Thai Society for Protection of Cruelty to Animals (TSPCA) has already presented the Prime Minister with petitions, and a proposed law for better animal welfare. They worked together with 90 other animal welfare organisations, compiling and perfecting the proposed law.

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What needs to happen in the world politically (or legally) for real change to affect animal rights/elephant welfare? First, there must be a world-wide, complete ban on the trade of ivory, rhino horn and all wild animals. This includes the exotic pet trade. I also feel the use of animals for entertainment should be banned. Every species of animal, from crocodiles to monkeys, are beaten and abused in the cruelest circumstances, purely to entertain tourists. I have seen some horrific things over the years and they still haunt me today. We, as a global community, must stand united as one voice and make our governments finally see that we will no longer tolerate animal exploitation. There also needs to be stricter protection laws put in place for animals. Offenders should face a prison sentence for animal abuse and life long confiscation orders should be issued.

What would the general public need to do to to help elephants, if anything (besides not buying ivory)? The general public and in particular, travellers to Thailand, are the ones with the power to inf luence positive change for the animals. If we stop watching the shows, riding the elephants, posing for photographs with tigers etc, then we take away the demand. By doing this, our actions shout a lot louder than our words ever could. The people involved in the animal tourism trade will have no choice but to change their ways and improve the conditions of the animals in their care.

What is the most frustrating part about your job? I do not have a job. This is my life. It is who I am and what I was always destined to do. I can not think of anything that frustrates me greatlyâ&#x20AC;Ś

Katherine Connor How do you manage to remain diplomatic with people who so obviously have abused animals? I am a firm believer that when you know better, you do better. A lot of the people we deal with are poor and un-schooled. Most of them have never travelled and do not know how to use the internet or have televisions. I understand them (most of the time) and always try to see the whole picture. For example, the mahout community in Thailand is seen as the lowest of the low. In many camps, the mahouts do not earn a regular salary and live in poverty, surviving purely on tips. These men, are unable to provide homes for their children and pay for them to go to school and often, they take their frustrations out on their elephants. The elephant is the only source of income they have and that is why they work them to death. I believe with my whole heart, if we can help improve living conditions for the mahouts, life conditions for the elephants will in turn improve. There is a lot of work to be done, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it!

What projects are currently happening at BLES? We are currently trying to expand our cat and dog home so we can offer more support to our local community through animal welfare. We need funds to pay for the building of runs and enclosures as well as medical costs. We are also hoping to expand our acreage. The more land we can purchase and protect from deforestation, the more elephants we can rescue. Our end goal for our rescued elephants is to be able to release them on to this protected land and have them living as the wild elephants they once were. The only factor holding us back is the lack of funding….

You only buy elephants from people who promise you they will not buy another elephant. Have these people remained loyal to their promise? Is there a contract involved? Yes. BLES is proud of the fact that every single elephant we have ever rescued has never resulted in putting another elephant in an abusive situation. Sadly, Many people who sell their elephants want to buy a younger, prettier and healthier elephant. What is even sadder is that there are organisations out there who will throw money at these people, and they play a part in fuelling the elephant business and abuse. My team and I spend a lot of time getting to know the owners, and building relationships with them. In the past we have walked away from potential rescues because we felt the owners were not being honest with us. Most of the elephant owners we deal with are elderly and are ready to retire from the elephant world, be it logging or tourism. They use the funds we give them to upgrade their homes, buy tractors or land. One man paid for his daughter’s wedding with the money received by BLES. By taking our time and doing our research, everyone wins. The people, and the elephants.

What does BLES need? What hopes and wishes do you have for BLES? BLES needs funds! We are a very small, family run organisation and work on a shoestring. We have big dreams and goals for the future and we simply cannot make these happen unless we have financial support. My greatest wish is to see more facilities like BLES throughout Asia. I am currently involved with the creation of the first elephant sanctuary in Europe and I hope by establishing this, our vision for a kinder and more humane world will grow three fold.

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BARE NECCESTIES By Isabella Rao Photography By Carenina Sanchez

T here’s a naked man in the attic of the American University of Paris. Under the roof of the Bosquet building is a room cluttered with easels and dust. The cramped space is uncomfortably warm. It has to be. Those in the nude business are quick to get goose bumps. “We’re about to turn the heat up more,” says Kevin Franc, who usually prefers his rooms cold. But on a recent chilly autumn afternoon, the 25-year-old contemporary dancer cannot deny his discomfort. Franc is but one of the hundreds of nude models who dramatically drape their private parts and torsos across wooden platforms throughout Paris. They change in crawl spaces and are allowed fifteen minute breaks, during which they loosen their limbs, throw a baggy sweater or robe over their bare legs and use the bathroom. “You have to be passionate to be a nude model,” says Maria Clark, Paris-based artist and nude model. “It takes motivation.” Clark speaks from experience, as she has been in the business since the ripe age of 23. “It’s a profession that makes people curious,” says Clark, who

is also one of the members of an association called La Coordination des Modèles d’Art. The group started in 2008, after the models lost the right to ask for tips. With this drastic action made by the Ministry of Culture, many models lost up to 30 percent of their salaries. They took to the streets in the mid-

for professional recognition. Including acceptance by the government, whose President, François Hollande, knows a thing or two about models. “We meet in rooms behind cafes, in people’s apartmentsanywhere,” says Clark. In their most recent meeting, the association outlined their goals for this upcoming year, some of which were forming links with other organizations and creating more contacts. They’re also working to attain a convention collective, a document that outlines the rights of employees in a specified profession and solidifies a profession’s legitimacy within the stubborn French bureaucracy. “We want to harmonize the profession by fixing a minimum salary,” Clark argues. The document is a critical piece of paper for it can make them legitimate. Similar to a doctor who is respected for choosing to be a doctor, “Modeling is considered a profession by those who have chosen it, and as such it deserves a status and respect,” Clark wrote on the Coordination’s website. Small triumphs in the past have included minor wage raises and the requiring of cloth to protect the models from the platforms.

“Nude modeling is considered a profession by those who have chosen it, and as such it deserves a status and respect,” dle of winter, completely naked, to protest and unite themselves under the name “Les Modéles de Paris.” After their first show of action, the group disbanded and did not resurface until about a year and a half ago. Brandishing their new name, La Coordination, this coterie of some 15 dedicated nude models is currently fighting

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Clark was quick to recognize these improvements but emphasized that the fight is not over. “We truly love our profession, it’s a life choice,” Clark says. And it is clear that the models will not give up. Their work is as important as any other job in France. Although many can brush off this job as “taking off your clothes and lying there for a few hours”, the models would beg to differ. “It would be nice to clarify (what we do) because I’m sick of hearing n’importe quoi,” Clark says, using the French expression for “nonsense” to convey society’s skewed view of the job.

The soft hips of Titan’s females and the chiseled chest and petit penises that Caravaggio carved had to be inspured by someone. PEACOCK

Like anyone else in a different profession, the models are dedicated to their work, shuffling across Paris for up to three sessions each day, holding the same poses for three-hour periods all while maintaining a high level of concentration. The models can start working at 18 and continue until retirement. For some of the twentysomething-year-olds, posing stark naked in front of an art class is a more sporadic affair to help pay the bills or bring in some extra cash, and it consists of one to two sessions per week, if that. Which brings us back to the

naked man in the attic, Kevin Franc, who represents the other end of the modeling profession. Kevin models for art classes in his free time, averaging a total of 10 sessions per year. When I mentioned La Coordination, the name didn’t ring a bell, but after I explained what it was, he nodded. “That could be interesting for me to check out”. His main modeling gigs at the moment are through AUP’s Art Department and specifically with sculpture professor Clara Delamater. “I generally take dancers when choosing my models,” Delamater said. The consensus is that dancers have a fluidity and knowledge of their bodies that non-dancers

might not have. “I was at ease with nudity because of my background in dance,” adds Clark, who in mid-November debuted her film, Le modèle vivant déplié, an eye-opening feature on the profession. Dancers aren’t the only ones who contribute to the profession however. Painters, singers and actors make up La Coordination, as well as the nude community outside of it. “There is even one former circus performer!” Still, the most fascinating part of this profession is the deep-rooted history, which lends so much credibility to the difficult job that these models do. “We are here to help art,” Clark says, recognizing her job as an WI N T E R 20 14

important one. The soft hips of Titian’s females and the chiseled chests and petit penises that Caravaggio carved had to be inspired by someone. And still today, as Kevin Franc walks out of the closet where he de-robes, mounts the platform and settles into a pose, the students position themselves around their easels, ready to observe and learn from him: ready to be inspired by him. His role, and the role of hundreds of other models are deeply rooted in the art we have all come to know and love. The nude model is alive and well.

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Without Rent

By Amanuel Neguede Photography By Carenina Sanchez

From the homeless on the sidewalks, to squatters holed up in abandoned apartments, Paris is home to entire communities who live in the shadows.

aniel Merland is known by sight but not by name. He lives in the shadow of chic Avenue Montaigne. On the corner where he sleeps sits a Gucci store with a white Ferrari 458 Spider parked out front. “This model goes up to 100 kilometers-per-hour in less than three seconds,” Merland says, describing the $257,000 sports car. “I don’t want one; I want a carriage like that,” he says as he points a filthy finger at one of the many Parisian Calèches that carry newlyweds through one of the city’s most expensive neighborhoods. Merland is not new to this swanky quartier. He is an expert on street life in the 7th arrondissement. He’s spent 20 of his 63 years living on its streets, on the pavement of Rue de l’Université. “I have been here since 1994,” he says with a grim face. “But at least I know I am safe here.” His bed is a cardboard box, keeping warm in a collection of thrown-away, stinking blankets covered in stains. His roof is the entrance of a parking garage that sits across from a line of exclusive Haussmannian buildings. A few feet away, the Georges V hotel offers their clients an unforgettable experience where “Parisian Elegance Comes To Life.” Thousands of men and women in Paris live and sleep on the streets or in hidden public spaces. They are often exposed to bad weather, sickness and insecurity about personal safety. According to INSEE (National Institute of Statistic and Economic Studies), the number of homeless men and women in France has skyrocketed over the past decade. Between 2001 and 2012, homelessness rose by 50%. Daniel Merland fits precisely in with the 26% of homeless people who refuse

to be accommodated in Paris’s homeless shelters because of safety concerns. In 2013, thousands of sheltered men and women filed police reports for theft or aggression. For Daniel, living on the streets of the 7th is a safe alternative. “I don’t need to worry about people attacking me here,” he says. 2013 saw the lowest ever rates of complaints in the 7th arroundissement according to police. Police Sergeant Tivoli declared, “We only had 23 complaints [last year] compared to 66 the year before.” Merland’s preference to live on the street rather than go to a shelter is shared by 54 year old Murielle Catlin. She, too, knows all about the hardships of homelessness. Originally from Israel, Catlin has been living on the streets for the past twelve years. According to INSEE, two out of five homeless people are women. With chipped teeth affecting her pronunciation, Murielle mumbles, “People like me in Boulogne.” She picks up a dirty newspaper from the ground and continues, “I always liked everyone. I am not a bad person, and I just wished people would like me, too.” Catlin worked as a fruit and vegetable vendor on the streets of Paris. “When I was young, I would go every morning to Rungis with my mom to purchase fresh products. Today I get to eat the least fresh vegetables.” Murielle is in bad shape. Her arms and legs are swollen. Her skin is red like a lawn of rashes. Her teeth are almost gone. But she always smiles. Out of the 12,000 recorded homeless people in Paris, nine percent of them choose to squat in empty locations, or stay in hostels when they can afford it. Amongst the thousands of

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“I live here, “I live here, and everyone “I live here, and everyone and everyone knows it.” knows it.” knows it.”

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“No rent, no bills, no lawsuits.” squatters in Paris is 25 year old André Inora, a resident of a squatted house. Unlike the stereotypes by which society tends to associate squatters, André is currently an exceptional student at La Sorbonne. His professors only have commendable remarks on his behalf. Robert Jean- Francois, his geography professor describes André as a “unique individual with a unique perspective of life [who has] has never disappointed me.” André Inora is half French and half Ethiopian. He received his Baccalaureate from the Lycée Guebre Mariam in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, before moving to Paris. He is a strong and courageous man who joined the French Navy at 18 years old because he wanted to experience something different. “What’s life without a real adventure?” he asks. His first mission in the French military was to pull 228 dead bodies out of the Atlantic Ocean after the tragic Air France plane crash off the coast of Rio de Janeiro in 2009. “The first dead body I saw in my life, I had to touch,” he confessed. Today, André’s address is 4 Rue Montbrun, Paris, 75014. With a smirk on his face he says, “I live here, and everyone knows it.” Squatting is generally frowned upon around the globe, but André’s situation is unusual. Neighbors don’t only accept his friends and his decision to take over the unoccupied location, they are actually happy to have neighbors who take care of the once forgotten property. His seven years of squatting were “instructive” to him, as he explains, “Without rent to pay each month, you have more time to focus on what really matters.” Marcelle, André’s 64 year-old neighbor, owns her apartment, but believes unoccupied spaces are, and should be made available to those who do not have roofs over their heads. Hitting the table she exclaims, “I am sick and tired of hearing on the news that so many souls

are suffering in the world because they don’t have a home and that the governments won’t lift a pinky for them!” André’s house had been left in the lurch for eight years. “We found this location about four years ago, and it took us two days to move in. What kind of country do we live in? We have millions of people looking for shelter, and there are millions of people leaving empty houses to shelter roaches!” According to “Meilleursagent.com”- a famous website for French real estate pricing – the total surface of Andre’s squat would cost a little over eight thousand euros for a single square meter. That is the simplest way to explain how comfortably they live. “No rent, no bills, no lawsuits,” explains Mathieu Cosset, a journalism student at the Sorbonne who squats in the house with André. “I can’t believe all my money used to go towards my rent. And look at me now, I live in a house, in the 14th, with four bedrooms, and the only thing I have to pay is...nothing.” Daniel, Murielle and even André are regarded as “sans-abris” (the French term for “homeless”) according to French law. But in this world, homelessness is not racist or sexist. Homelessness does not have an age. It also does not have a voice. Thousands of men, women and children- people from different parts of the world, are rotting at the bottom of the social totem pole. On October 23rd, Murielle was taken to a homeless shelter against her will by the Police of Boulogne-Billancourt and few Red Cross workers. “We are taking her to the Unité Locale de la Croix Rouge on Rue Clamart,” says the young Red-Cross volunteer. “We will find her a good shelter.” The next morning, Murielle was gone.

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THE RUSH TO RUSSIA As the Ukraine smolders, Ekaterina Vorobieva chronicles one familyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passage from terror to hope.

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“I

’m so exhausted,” sighs Tatiana Kuzmina, speaking over a Skype call from her Stalinist era apartment building in Moscow. “What’s happened the past six months in Ukraine has made life more difficult.” Kuzmina’s ginger hair is tied in a bun and reading glasses are perched on her nose. Her pixelated image is transmitted without benefit of make up. She is fatigued, and there are no cosmetics that can cover up the tragedy called Ukraine. Today, a year after 100,000 Ukrainians gathered on Maidan Square in Kiev to protest Kremlin meddling in their nation’s future,

the 48-year-old auto industry executive is faced with a management challenge that she never had to contend with as the human resources manager at the German carmaker Audi. The toll on human life in the former Soviet Republic is unforgivable. The United Nations says that since April some sixty people have been dying on a daily basis. Reports from the region indicate that upwards of 7,000 people have been killed on both sides. Wall Street Journal reports add that close to 10,000 people have been wounded. Yet clearly the most devastating statistic to emerge from this PEACOCK

undeclared war is the number of refugees: One million. Kuzmina’s cousin, Inna Dushkina, 49, is one of those terrified, displaced souls, a character in what the European Union officials say, the greatest catastrophe to befall the country since the Nazi invasion of the Second World War. Through the smell of homelessness and the distinct prospect of a futureless existence, the Dushkins made their miserable way through the Ukrainian border into Russia after having watched their home— and everything they’d ever put their love and energy in— erupt in flames.

The Dushkins are terrified and have felt death, up close and personal. During one savage day of fighting, for instance, the family watched a neighbor’s house pummeled by artillery shells. None of their friends inside the house survived the onslaught. “The first time I communicated with my cousin was a year and a half ago,” says Tatiana, “and it was because my other cousin in Moscow convinced me we should finally set ties with our relatives in Ukraine, especially since they are not distant relatives. If it were not for my sudden decision to communicate with her then,” She says, “I honestly wonder how and where they would

be right now.” According to the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ukrainian government has never issued documentation to support the status of the country’s citizen refugees. Displaced by the brutality of their native Russian neighbors during what amounts to a full-scale civil war, their past and valuables burning in the flames of an exploded house, refugees like the Dushkins can no longer prove they had a life. “Refugees are most successful people because they can start everything over. Their past is closed, like a book,” Tatiana states. “While the secured families take for granted what they have, and progress much WI N T E R 20 14

slower to make their lives any better, these people are ‘digging the earth’ to survive because they simply have nothing to eat,” she continues. “The most difficult challenge faced is to help them emotionally, because they are completely broken.” A six-hour train ride away from where Kuzmina lives in the infrastructural capital lays a small town called Oryol. In its outskirts, in a one-room apartment as confining as a bird’s nest, Tatiana’s “emotionally drained” cousin Inna Dushkina currently resides with her 19-year-old daughter Nastya, and her husband Igor, 54, whom she not long ago embraced back from the Ukraine alive. “I suggest not to contact Inna,” says Tatiana, “I suppose she won’t want to give an interview. She is in severe stress— their house was burnt, there is no money to start a life from scratch, and there’s no understanding of what will happen next.” The life of Inna Dushkina as one of the 50 million refugees worldwide, according to the UN Refugee Agency, began at an abandoned summer camp. “I went there,” tells Tatiana, “it is one of those soviet camps I used to go to when I was little.” While Inna and her daughter were taken into the camp with the others displaced her husband, a miner, stayed in Ukraine to work and to look after the house. “After Igor called her in the morning,” says Tatiana, “she could never be sure he would call her back in the evening. And that is what’s terrible. I was even surprised there was any connection at all. ” With only summer clothes, 1500 rubles (30 euros), and a pair of bed sheets in hand, Inna and Nastya escaped their hometown of Debaltsevo in July of 2014, after the threated attacks started steamrolling through the region. “Inna never gave up the hope they would come back home in no more than a month,” says Tatiana, “the hope that has now vanished.” After the explosion of their house’s windows, Inna’s husband, Igor, had no other choice but to

flee, too, and finally reunite with his family in Oryol. The explosion allowed robbers to raid and finish the ‘job’ by burning the house down, the family’s livestock catching fire, too. “My mother lives in Oryol, but she could not take them in because she is old and alone,” continues Tatiana, “so she called me to tell that Inna wants to enter Russia and is searching for me.” While the Dushkins were brave enough to scramble to safety, Inna Dushkina’s 60-year-old brother Vladimir was left behind, cowering in a hastily built bunker beneath his house. Vladimir and his family were hiding in their bathroom on the summer day a bomb exploded next to his house. Shrapnel cascaded into his bedroom window and landed in his bed. Vladimir says his sister is trying to convince him to leave the Ukraine and move on with whatever life he still owns. He says there is no life to be built at his age, one year before he becomes a pensioner. People like Vladimir kept living and working, hoping for the better outcome of events. “One day,” tells Tatiana, “Vladimir’s son got sick and didn’t go to work. That same day, a bomb completely destroyed his office building.” Meanwhile, a man in Russia took in Vladimir’s daughter and granddaughter. Working on repairing apartments in the Russian periphery, he called Vladimir’s daughter and told her that they could come live with him. “But the man drank heavily,” says Tatiana, “so we were willing to take them in to live with us here in Moscow. Though we were extremely indecisive. Her little daughter is restless and very hard to control. Thus, it never happened. To be honest, it is a very painful subject for me now,” she says, “Because we didn’t sacrifice anything for them, not even a living space. Now she has returned to Ukraine to live with her mother.”

Upon arrival in Oryol, thousands of terrified Ukrainian families are satisfied with some bread, clothes, and toothbrushes donated by local citizens. After the small contribution, they are completely left to fend for themselves. “One of the main problems these refugees face is they are unable to find jobs due to their lack of paperwork and to make themselves worth trusting,” says Kuzmina. While on the other hand, the always present Russian-speaking refugee families in Paris are helped by at least four known non-governmental agencies, according to one of their volunteers.

to start from zero.” A chocolate bar was the only thing that brought a smile to Nastya’s face. “She jumped on one spot, like a little girl,” says Tatiana. “We visit them quite often, and I always try to collect clothes among the neighbors, as well as every-day-use utensils for home, or I buy food.” Tatiana has a membership to an elite gym located in a very wealthy building, and one day she decided to try her luck and talk to the director about hanging up ‘to donate’ appeal flyers. “And people more than responded,” she said, “which was when I felt like I’ve done something helpful and something good.” Just having gotten home slippers to shift around the cold, wooden floor of their tiny nest, Igor’s biggest dream is to have his own farm and cattle again, their own place, a home. While they were obliged to go through intense medical control, Nastya demanded to take a bus back to Ukraine to see her friends again and to keep studying design, as she only had one year left until her graduation. Up to today, Inna was taken into an underground dressmakers’ room, while Igor had finally found a job on a construction base near where they live, excited to be able to ‘travel’ around the Russian periphery with the trucks. “My cousin and her family have almost never left the region of Debaltsevo - all their income was enough for is to pay for the living and Nastya’s education; the farthest they ever went was 150 kilometers away from their town,” says Tatiana. “It is hard to imagine such circumstances being the reason to finally go beyond the borders.” Tatiana and her husband have invited the Dushkin family to stay with them in the capital for the New Year week. “Igor was on the ninth cloud. He told me, ‘I dream to step onto the Red Square’.”

“Apart from our financial assistance, they have no choice but to start from zero.”

“When I went to Oryol to visit them the first time,” continues Kuzmina, “even though Inna expressed how happy she was they were not abandoned and were given some food, a person who used to live in ‘normal’ life conditions would never get used to a toilet being far outside of the sleeping space.” “We were planning to go to Tibet this fall, my long-existing dream to be fulfilled,” says Liza Kuzmina, 22, Tatiana’s daughter, “but we won’t because all the spare money is going into this family.” Meanwhile, the Dushkins are making their way through survival with an option-less, portable, soviet washing machine. “Their economical situation is simply critical,” says Tatiana, “all their Ukrainian credit cards were blocked, too. Apart from our financial assistance, they have no choice but

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Photgraphy by BRQ Network WI N T E R 20 14

THE CHANGING FACE OF

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MARY JANE Weed isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t just for stoners anymore.

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T he

modern day flapper hasn’t changed much since the ‘20s, except skirts are shorter, hair is longer, and weed is the new bathtub gin. Kendall Fitch, a 22-yearold graduate student studying biomedical engineering at Tulane University has just gotten home after a very long day. She tosses a Helmut Lang blazer to the floor, abandons her bag in the foyer, and gracefully flops onto her couch. Fitch shifts her position, kicking her feet over the armrest and props her head up with two pillows. She has just clocked another full day of classes and work. Even though the day has come to an end, she has a hard time calming her mind. She didn’t do well on a midterm, her project partner bailed, and she is behind on hours in the lab. Kendall turns on the television – reruns of The Office – and opens three containers from WholeFoods. Her one bedroom apartment is ornamented with a blend of framed posters, anatomical drawings and an array of books on a wide shelving display. Everything is exact and in their proper places, even her orange cat who sleeps atop her mantel in a small, fluffy ball. While sitting on her khaki, suede couch she reaches into the drawer of the side table to her right. The drawer slides open with a slight hitch, it’s vintage, bought at a local fair, and out of it emerges an old, orange prescription bottle filled with little nuggets of weed. She plucks one out with her

manicured fingers and gingerly places it on her coffee table. Breaking it into fine pieces, the fragrant green cluster wafts its signature scent across the room. Fitch expertly rolls the white papers together, licking them and sealing them with her lighter. She pauses for a moment, rolling the joint between her fingers, admiring it. A slight smile creeps onto her face as she touches the flame of her lighter to the end of her joint. Over the next 20 minutes, she takes

does a hit or two of marijuana make one a nefarious drug user. It is becoming more and more common to find successful individuals who keep weed in their side table, and rolling papers next to their aluminum foil. The stereotype of a stoner usually depicts an unshaven man with bagel bite crumbs on his t-shirt and his mother on speed dial. However, what is less often represented in the media is the reality of marijuana users who are functional, contributing members of society. Furthermore there exists a discrepancy in the social standards by which men and women are judged for drug use. By looking at comedies like Pineapple Express, I Love You Man, and This Is The End we see a genre of film that owes its success to audiences’ amusement with the ideas around male potheads. Movies about guys getting high and their mishaps while under the influence are seen as entertainment. However, if Hollywood were to swap women in for the male characters, the tone of the plot would probably turn. Whereas the idea of a stoned man is funny, watching a mildly incapacitated woman roaming around in a high stupor tends to make audiences uncomfortable. According to the national survey on Drug Use and Health, men were nearly 50% more likely to smoke pot than women. When you think about the marijuana industry and its stereotypes, guys are usually

“Only recently have reputable women been coming out of the cannabis closet.”

two deep drags and happily anticipates the on-setting calm. After sitting in silence for a while, she takes a breath and says; “I don’t know why people are surprised that a girl knows how to roll her own joints.” Most of us know women like Fitch. They are on the fast track to success, are well-educated, sophisticated and don’t think twice about lighting up. Just like a glass of wine does not make one an alcoholic, neither

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the dealers and the buyers, and media further promote the idea of a male dominated smoking sphere. In the rare circumstances that women are seen smoking weed on camera, the mood is more rebellious than nonchalant. However, this stigma is slowly changing. Only recently have reputable women been coming out of the cannabis closet. Back in September of 2014, an Alaskan weather reporter, Charlo Greene, gave a speech on live TV in favor of marijuana legalization. Rather than follow script, she veered off and quit her news-reporting job on camera, calmly announcing that she would now be focusing all her energy on promoting marijuana legality. Her final

declaration, uncharacteristic to her public persona, was a very poignant, “Fuck it, I quit.” Greene’s statement went viral and made headlines across the world. Her decision to leave a lucrative career in order to fight for the legalization of marijuana shows a discrepancy between the reality and stereotypes of marijuana users. That being said, Greene is not exactly floundering in unemployment as she is currently the President and CEO of the Alaska Cannabis Club. Greene firmly believes that the American government has enforced a failed drug policy that negatively affects the lives of many Americans. Ironically, after her live resignation, she was chastised by her employers,

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not for being the secret head of a marijuana society, but rather, for using the word “fuck” on air. Following the event, KTVA 11 News immediately sent out a tweet saying, “Viewers, we sincerely apologize for the inappropriate language used by a KTVA reporter on the air tonight. The employee has been terminated.” Greene not only got people’s attention but gave a voice to a different brand of weed smoker. Besides being talked about worldwide, she was also listed by Elle Magazine as one of the 13 Most Potent Women in the Pot Industry in October 2014. Furthermore, the stoners’ bible, High Times, awarded Greene its Courage in Media Award. “I did this to inspire Alaskan

voters to really get up, get angry, see that right now we have an opportunity to change something, to change our world for better.” Greene said in an interview to Huffington Post. She is breaking the stoner stereotype, that weed is not just for the Wiz Khalifas or the Seth Rogens. Charlo Greene is hardly the only individual standing up for the right to get baked. Many individuals have committed a considerable amount of time and energy to improve the public perception of the emerging marijuana industry. “We work very hard to mature the messaging and vernacular

of this industry,” David Kochman told the New York Times. Kochman is a lawyer for OpenVape, a Denver-based company that manufactures vaporizers. Vaporizers are electronic or battery powered devices that heat cannabis leaves, wax, or oil until the THC turns into an inhalable vapor. He remarks that even language in the industry is changing. “Buds” are now referred to as “flowers,” and “trim” (the leftover parts of a marijuana plant once the flowers are removed) is now called “raw material.” Lawyers like Kochman are an important part of the new weed facelift. Alongside this makeover, the

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decriminalization of marijuana in the United States is helping to destroy the negative stereotypes that surround it. So far 23 states have legalized it for medical use and of those states, four of them - Colorado, Oregon, Alaska, Washington, as well as the District of Columbia - allow recreational use. New York City mayor, Bill De Blasio recently passed a law that makes getting caught with up to 25 grams of marijuana (60 joints-worth) a non-criminal act. Much like getting a speeding ticket, being caught with under 25 grams of weed simply results in a court summons to pay a moderate fee. In general, the stigma against

marijuana in the United States is starting to wane. Marijuana activists are already looking to the end of 2016 as a promising time for the plight of pot, as five more states including California, Massachusetts and Nevada will likely introduce ballot measures to decriminalize recreational

use. Six other states are also initiating creation and expansion tactics for their existing medical-marijuana programs. Or, at least, dramatically reducing penalties for small-scale possession. This, in tandem with the notion that more than half of all Americans - approximately

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54% - believe marijuana should be taxed and regulated by the government, implies the US, on a national scale, is headed in a rather green direction. On a worldwide level, Amsterdam is still the hotspot for people who want to consume cannabis products without fear of repercussion. Uruguay is

coming up as a close second. However the most surprising country we found in which marijuana is 100% legal is... North Korea! According to Darmon Richter, a 29-year-old freelance writer from England who visited the Communist state in 2013, he was able to purchase a grocery bag full of weed at an

indoor market while staying in a rural part of the country. Fitch, Kochman and Greene are all on the same side. Weed is a prominent and iconic part of modern-day culture. As the changing face of Mary Jane starts to alleviate the stigmas attached to it, what was once a forbidden fruit will soon be part of high society.

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A Collabration by: Francesca Cretella, Matthew Erickson, Claudia Galtes, Hilary Hinshaw, Jordan Nadler

CHAOS BY ELENI ZAFIROULIS PHTOGRAPHY BY ALADDIN KANAWATI

A fter wiping her baby sister’s

blood off of her face while her parents were stabbed to death before her eyes, 5 year old Razan was left alive to wander the streets of Damascus alone at 5 years old. Rummaging through the trash for weeks, Razan was finally given a second chance at life by a Turkish orphanage that rescued her. It was love at first sight when Aladdin Kanawati met Razan. “She was very depressed and quiet at first,” he comments, “but after I sat and drew with her for a while she began to open up and laugh and play like a normal child.” “Since the refugees have started coming to Jordan, The Sryian

American Medical Society has provided free therapy sessions to the afflicted,” says Kanawati, a 21 year-old activist for SAMs and producer of the up-and-coming documentary,” Her Name was Alma. With bombs dropping, it is crucial for children to recieve emotional attention in order to help elevate psychological issues they may face. Of all the different types of therapy, one of the most widely used forms for children is through art. “By using art as a medium, it creates a way to facilitate a conversation,” says Julie Cutelli, an art therapist based in Paris, France.

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“Art is helping them speak up for themselves,” she adds as she looks over the drawings of the Syrian refugees. “Children from conflict areas are probably afraid to go somewhere new,” she continues. “They are more than likely fearful to make a decision because they were conditioned early on that the military would do that for you.” The military gunfire soaring over a crumbled house in Damascus, since April of 2011, arrives promptly at 5 a.m. Ten year old, Shayma is awoken by her reliable alarm clock, a .50 caliber bullet. When a bomb unexpectedly destroyed half of her house, Shayma

in Crayon

was force to flee with her only surviving relative, Aunt Kyrima, in hopes of a better life. In the midst of that chaos, on the other side of Syria a young boy found the mutilated corpse of his fourteen-year-old cousin on the front of his doorstep. Muhammad, 9, now has post-traumatic stress disorder. Ripping out his hair every time he thinks about his best friend, a hard feat with so many reminders. Shayma and Muhammad are only two of the nearly 50 Syrian refugee children in Amman, Jordan who, with the help of The Syrian American Medical Society, SAMS, have taken to crayons and

paper to illustrate their experiences after fleeing a warzone. Yet, art therapy is not the only medium by which these displaced children can use to rebuild their lives. “Syria really needs a lot of education, and now education is our number one priority,” says Siba Al-Khadour, a native Syrian and a member Najda Now, a non-profit organization working in the aid of humanitarian relief in Syria. For over two years, Najda Now has been rebuilding and financing schools in the conflicted areas. “The challenge is many of these kids go over a year without school. And in some cases, the children only go for three hours

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a day because they have to divide the school into different age groups.” In the same amount of time a double period is held at the American University of Paris, these children have to learn an entire day’s worth school. “Around three-thousand schools are partially or totally destroyed while others are occupied by IDPs (internally displaced people),” Fadi Iskandarani, the managing director of Human Care Syria, comments over a Skype call from their field office in Turkey. “People have a big potential for the future, and unfortunately it is not being given to them.” According to UNICEF’s web-

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“Your Bullets Kill the Fear Inside of Us”

site, over 50 percent of Syrian refugee children are out of school, “there is an increase in number of child marriages, and 1 in 10 children are engaged in child labor”. We are on the verge of losing an entire generation. Of a country of 22 million, over 2.5 million refugees have sought shelter from all bordering countries: Lebanon, Jordan, Iraq, and Turkey. The problem is escalating because “on average, more than 100,000 Syrians register as refugees each month,” the United Nations re-

ports on the World Vision website. Due to the torrential downpour of Syrians flooding Lebanon, Lebanese officials have notified the UN that they have closed their borders (with exceptions to humanitarian relief ). With women and children making up three-quarters of the refugee population, children are placed at the highest degree of threat. Exposed to harsh elements while living in makeshift homes, these children are at a high risk of contracting air and water borne diseases, which

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should have been eradicated years ago. Another difficult challenge facing a paperless refugee is that Syria has closed it borders to all Syrians wishing to return after the have left, according to Siba Al-Khadour, (a member of Nadja Now.) “These women who have children in refugee camps are not able to obtain legal paperwork or birth certificates because their foster countries do not acknowledge them as legitimate,” Siba AlKhadour declares. “What would

you do if you had no identity? No nationality? Nowhere to go? These are the problems of the refugees and it’s growing.” One of the major issues concerning the Syrian conflict is that NGO’s seeking to provide humanitarian relief are facing the difficulty to allocate aid within Syria. “The United Nations considers the Syrian Arab Red Crescent as an international organization which aid can go through,” comments Fadi Iskandarani, “and they said that we can cooperate with them to distribute aid, however, unfortunately they are not realizing that in some areas the Syrian Arab Red Crescent is under the regime’s hands.” Over half a dozen cities, including Syria’s capital, Damascus, are currently under control of the regime since the war broke out. “The Syrian Arab Red Crescent is supposed to be an international organization which is not ruled or led by any government, but in the cases of countries, like Syria, no body can act in an area controlled by the regime unless the regime wants

them to act in a specific way. People who distribute aid could be in prison tomorrow, so we are distributing aid in very difficult conditions.”

“I’ve seen some people come out looking like they had just left a concentration camp,” Fadi Iskandarani sighs. “There are some parts in Syria, still today, that are held under siege by the Syrian government, and these people, believe it or not, are eating grass while others are chasing rats instead of running away from them

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because it’s considered food.” Over six and a half million Syrians are internally displaced, including over half a million displaced within Damascus. “We give aid to the Syrian Arab Red Crescent and we talk to our friends and families in this area and they said they haven’t received anything in aid, nothing at all.” Since the break of the war in 2011, the increase of Syrians in Jordan has risen from 3% to 20%. Aladdin Kanawati reports, “The main issue is that most of them live with 1015 people packed into apartments built for a family of four. Due to this influx in refugees fleeing the border, apartment complexes have increased and are too costly for families seeking shelter. Another issue is that able-working Syrians are unable to acquire jobs because they have no working permits which leads them to living on an empty check.” The UN refugee agency estimated (to BBC) that more

than â&#x20AC;&#x153;70,000 displaced families are now fatherless while 3,700 of those affected are children living unaccompanied or dislocated from their parentsâ&#x20AC;?. Just like 5-year-old Razan who came to the Turkish orphanage, completely alone in the world and having just witnessed the slaugh-

ter of her family. Only with the help of Aladdin Kanawati did little Razan come out of her tragic shell. Slowly blossoming back into the little she was before. Though, soon it was time for Aladdin to leave and head back to Jordan. Before piling on the bus with the rest of the crew from

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SAMS, the final headcount of the orphans was short one. After scoping the entire orphanage, little Razan was nowhere to be found. Aladdin Kanawati frantically stepped on the bus to put his bag down when he heard a little peep from the back row. Dressed in a pink floral print, a lump of fabric

Aladdin Kanawati

was curled up between the last two seats. With tears streaming down, Razan cried, “Please, take me with you. I want a family.” “They think the whole world hates them,” Aladdin Kanawatti sighs after telling the story, “and I feel a sense of powerlessness because you can’t save everyone.”

, 21, studies policy and non profit management at Georgia State in Atlanta, Ga. Born by Syrian descendents, Aladdin Kanawati has been an activist for the Syrian conflict for over two years. “I want to provide as many Syrian refugees services as possible,” he says over the phone. While working with the Syrian American Medical Society, SAMS, Aladdin Kanawati traveled to Amman, Jordan this summer to work with the Syrian refugees and shoot his documentary, Her Name was Alma, a collection of stories of the refugees. “I want the world to know their stories,” he says, “and to bring the Syrian conflict down to a human level because by the end of the day we’re all just humans and these kids have voices that need to be heard.” After working in art therapy sessions and visiting orphanages over the summer, Aladdin is the reason the Peacock had the privilege of sharing the stories of these three children: Shayma, Muhammad, and Razan. “He arrived in the same tattered clothes he left Syria in,” Aladdin comments as he retells the story of Muhammad. “When I started working with him he couldn’t even spell his own name. Can you imagine that? How is anybody supposed to tell their own story if they can’t even write their first name?” He has been working with SAMS for the past two years, and Peacebuilding Solutions for one. Peacebuilding Solutions is a non profit organization based in Atlanta, Georgia whose main goal is to “ensure that those living in refugee camps are treated with dignity and respect, and that refugees are given the attention and empowerment needed to become and remain, as much as they are able to return home or elsewhere.” As the assistant director of Middle Eastern operations for Peacebuilding Solutions, Aladdin Kanawati’s main focus is to provide sustainability on education, psychosocial support, and work programs for the refugees. Their work is to create a long lasting effect and to provide a sustainable environment for the refugees until it is safe for them to return home. “A lot of people in the world don’t know what suffering is like, so by getting involved with others, hearing their stories, and really taking time to value one another, you are able to build a deeper connection and understanding with yourself and the surrounding world.” To get involved with Aladdin and the work Syria, go to: http://www.solvepeace.org/

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tinder C

all me Tinderella. Some months ago - never mind long how precisely - it was time to sail the waters of Tinder, navigator of digital love and disprove the theory that the 10 million people who use the dating app have a hard time getting laid. How can I even describe my first couple of hours on Tinder? It’s like the Tortuga Island of dating apps. It’s pirate haven for the millennial generation. Men can fulfill their fantasies of them thinking that they’re Jack Sparrow and women can fulfill... well I’m not sure yet. But almost all the control was in your hands, you can steer the ship either left or right, and hope that that really hot guy you swiped right for matches with you and doesn’t end up being a creep. I can already imagine what I’ll tell my future grandkid. We’ll be living in air bubbles because the Earth is way too polluted to live in now but we can still look down. I can just picture telling them that they have it so easy because now they have installed chips that beep when you’re in the proximity of your soulmate. I’ll be telling them how in my day you had to download an app and cross your fingers that the guy was suitable to actually meet in person and for you to not end up in a butchers shop. I was and I probably still am deluded about Tinder. “I think Tinder is great if you know what you want from Tinder. I think if you expect Tinder to be something that it’s not, it is not going to work out for you. Tinder is a hook-up. There are exceptions to the rules of course”, says a fellow student, 21 at the American University of Paris, who wishes to remain anonymous. That fellow student was right as hell because not knowing what to expect I steered my navigation wheel right for almost anyone. In this experiment, I sent out messages to almost all the guys I matched up with. The most frequent question besides asking if I wanted to come over to their place was “What are you looking for on here?” Reasonable question…. it certainly wasn’t sex but it wasn’t a relationship either. These were choppy waters and the beautiful thing about online dating is getting to make shit up, that is until you meet the person. I told these guys I was a literature student, that I was here on tourism, I was Jack Sparrow and only saved the truth for those worthy. Naturally in these rough currents of the ocean, one is bound to get some interesting messages and by interesting this person was obviously raised by wolves. It makes sharks look tame. “Being a woman on Tinder men will say anything to you, like it’s hilarious but it gets exhausting. You’ll match with some dude who you think looks normal and seems normal, and then he’s like “hey show me your panties,” our fellow Tinder Anonymous source goes on to say. Some are more subtle than others about what they

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By Claudia Galtes

really after. Some like to ask me how I’m doing and ask about my life. Others like to tell you “I have big dick,” or “I want to fuck you really hard.” Charming…. “I feel like that’s always the vibe on Tinder, you’re gonna want something from them and they’re gonna want something from you and either way it’s not gonna be that great”, says my Tinder Anonymous source. At this point I just wanted to meet someone nice and go on a nice date, y’know, without the possibility of being kidnapped. Sometimes a pirate gets lucky and finds a treasure amidst online dating. My golden booty came in the form of Frenchman, age 24, who we’ll call X, and currently working on his Phd. “You can’t possibly be Parisian you’re smiling in all your pics,” this was X’s first message for me. Intrigued and actually surprised by the sense of humour we continued chatting and chatting and then chatting some more until finally we decided to take the virtual into the physical world. “You do have to know what you want. You have to go into Tinder with almost a no expectations. You have to go into it thinking the worst and then being open for a good thing,” says Daniella Capote, 21, an Art History student here in Paris. So on a chilly Thursday night I met with X at a nice restaurant in the 7th arrondissement. My stomach was plagued with nervous butterflies and slight anxiety because I didn’t make an escape plan in case he ended being a creep. But the feeling was mostly overridden with excitement and curiosity of finally meeting X. When I finally saw X, I noticed he was much more attractive than in his pictures and had kind eyes, the type that you can’t see on a photo. We sat down in a small table with little romantic candles. We looked at menu and he ordered my food for me in perfect French, along with two glasses of red wine. In between eating and drinking, I was nervous there would be awkward gaps in conversation but it flowed and we talked about a wide range of things that you’re supposed to talk about on a first date like art and families and all that other shit. It was totally like a cheesy romcom except it was my life. I wasn’t expecting for a first date to go so well especially since it started because of Tinder. After dinner and overextending our stay at the restaurant after the bill was paid, he walked me home. The butterflies returned especially since I was reminded that Tinder was a hook-up app. I was relieved when nothing happened and X’s final words for the night were, “You’re so cute. See you again soon.” The next day I recieved a text asking for another date to see an art exhibit. I don’t know if anything is going to come from this but all I know is that I found quite a good treasure in the sea of Tinder.

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CONVERSATIONS WITH A CATAPHILE By Matthew Erickson

“C all

me Cid,” says Cid, who has spent the past five years mapping the Parisian underground and whose name isn’t really Cid. Pseudonyms make perfect sense for someone who spends his nights 18 meters beneath the 13th arrondissement. Cid - lawyer by day, cataphile by night - spends his spare time dodging smoke bombs, collapsed tunnels and police detection. Keeping his name hidden is not something that catches me by surprise. After how long it took me to find a Cataphile I thought that getting him to open up would be much harder. In addition to all the perils listed above Cid says that there is also another reason for the secrecy. He lowers his head through the fractured concrete. It looks to me like just another aging building but in fact it’s a door to parallel universe. His universe. It’s a world outside the scope of things that can be sold. It is still raw and unchartered. He looks back and beckons me deeper into the crevice. So to try and better understand why this man spends evenings wandering below the earth’s surface amongst the mass graves, I ask him, “How would you describe the secret Catacombs?” His eyes almost glaze over, the way one’s eyes do when pondering a happy memory. “It’s a gigantic maze under Paris. Nearly every street has a mirror in the catacombs.” He whispers. Coming

back from his reverie he quips, “Also entrance there is free and having fun is cheap.” The statement causes me to imagine the street I live on mirrored below and where its secret entrance may be. I pose my next question, “How did the entrances get here?” His response to my question is better than I could have hoped. I’m thinking manholes and metro tunnels, but apparently hiding in plain sight is always the way to go. “The entrances are just outside of where you would look. It could be almost anything, that weird tunnel, an ivy covered wall, or even what appears to be a crack in the concrete,” says Cid with a sly smile. “The Cataphile are dedicated to our own survival. We are eager to discover more and to have the maps be as precise as possible. Maps are power because they’re constantly evolving.” “How exactly can they “evolve,” when they mirror the streets above us?” I inquire with some skepticism. “Cata (Cataphiles name for the tunnels) evolve because entrances are closed every now and then. Some of the tiny tunnels collapse or are just not usable anymore.” Right now Cid and I are up to our knees in water. He is loving every step, me, well I’m surviving. The tunnel that we face is small, wet and smells of mildew. Cid soldiers on, taking the next tunnel on his PEACOCK

stomach, wiggling his shoulders through a small gap in the wall. As scared as I am of following him my fear of being left behind is much stronger. I follow the same techniques that Cid used and plunge forward. There’s air on the other side of our tunnel. He frees himself and takes a deep breath waiting for me to catch up. His response brings some reality back to our conversation. Regardless of how much the Cataphile romanticize the tunnels the fact remains that they are dangerous. With approximately 186 miles of tunnels there is a very real possibility of descending and never returning to the surface. Fortunately my guides were experienced and knowledgeable. Cid flicks on his headlamp and the corridor seems to swallow the light. He leads me deeper into the tunnel and water begins to pool around my ankles. He told me this would happen but still it terrifies me. On and on we go only stopping to consult our maps and catch our breath. So far we have mostly avoided human remains but we have passed hallways seeming to be filled with them. Some of the tunnels have been covered in graffiti, or art, depending on your perspective. “The place really is intimidating.” Says Cid, “About 80% of the paths that you would think to take are dead ends.” For as often as Cid makes me love the Catacombs there are easily just as many, if not more, times that he makes me fear them.

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And still there is so much more that I need to know. So I press on by asking, “Besides the risk of getting lost what is so scary about them?” “You mean beside the dead bodies?” He retorts. “The chatiere are pretty rough.” Once again I am reminded that this is a separate world with its own language; cataphile, catacombs, and chatiere are just a few examples. We approach another little tunnel and my throat tightens. These tunnels are so much smaller than all the others. They are called chatiere if I have heard correctly. Cid seems to get really excited every time we come up to one. He directs his headlamp to the hole near the ground and motions for me to enter. Reluctantly I lead with my hands, wiggling into the gap. I feel the walls press against my shoulders and then my hips. I hear Cid enter the tunnel behind me and am anxious to reach the other side. He laughs at my haste and I feel a little bit lighter. This, after all, is a grand adventure. “What are chatiere, Cid?” Even after wiggling through them I still find them hard to describe and his delighted smile every time we approach one lets me know he would like to talk about them. “They are the little tunnels, the ones specially made by us Cataphiles.” His smirk seems to stretch the length of his face and he retorts, “I told you that you wouldn’t like them.” “Why are the chatiere there though? Besides to make visitors lives miserable?” Our banter is almost natural now. As if squirming through miniscule tunnels, stumbling through the mass graves and trespassing has been my initiation into the secret society. Cid glances over his shoulder and tells the group of people we met with that we are close. We found them wandering the tunnels just like we were. It absolutely scared the shit out of me when we bumped

into them. Bodies appearing out of darkness, where live bodies shouldn’t be may tend to bring that reaction. We take a break from exploration to share some wine, listen to music and cook dinner. The open fire illuminates our dirt smudged faces but those same faces are alight with grins. They talk freely amongst themselves and share maps around the circle. I sit back and try to take it all in. The mood is light and jovial here, it’s free from the pressures of the world above. “That’s exactly why the chatiere are there. Tourists and newcomers tend to trash the place,” Cid says “They are always leaving their shit

also includes smoke bombs. Not all cataphile make traps but the ones who are really territorial set them during high tourist times, like Halloween” he says matter-offactly. After what I had seen this makes sense to me. Like Cid said some of the people down there were quite friendly but some were quite hesitant. They were standoffish and sometimes demeaning. It was evident though that they had earned their place there. “How do people become accepted as a Cataphile, Cid?” I ask. “The Cataphile are the people updating maps, renovating the rooms, or making new entrances. If you do those things you’re a Cataphile.” His simple response even initiated a shrug afterwards. Cid never really announced to me that our journey would now be upward but I could sense it. After seeing some of the larger chambers and sharing our fireside meal I knew that I had spent my welcome. I was slightly sad that our adventure was coming to an end but could not wait to taste fresh air. The trek to the surface felt easier than the downward one, or perhaps some of the oppressiveness of the catacombs had lifted. On and on we went but it did end eventually. Cid approached the entrance slowly, with caution. If there is a chance of getting caught by cops it’s when trying to exit, but fortunately Cid said the cost was clear. The Cataphile and I did one last sweep and then we left the world below the world. “So it was amazing Cid, really it was. But why the hell do you do this so often? Once was more than enough for me.” I pose my final question with great weight. After our time together I know how much potential his response has. The lawyer didn’t disappoint. “For me that world defines exploration. It is a parallel universe outside the scope of things that can be owned or sold. It is a place of adventure.”

“It’s a gigantic maze under Paris. Nearly every street has a mirror in the catacombs.”

behind.” Puzzled I turn to him, “What is it that they leave behind?” These are the subterranean pits of Paris. Even after being there I never imagined that people would worry about keeping them dusted and vacuumed. But I could tell that Cid was very serious. “Its empty bottles, trash mainly. There is no system of garbage collection except us, the activists. And as most people would, we hate having to cleanup for others,” he retorts. “This is still Paris. How do you prevent tourists then?” I inquire. After being down there with a guide I can’t imagine facing the catacombs on my own. But according to the Cataphile that happens more than most would think. “It starts with the chatiere but

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FRENCH “SUCKERS” STANDING UP FOR THE MOVEMENT OF “LES PIGEONS” By Ethan Carzon

Paris may be fashionable,

but the City of Lights is no shining beacon for millennials looking to start their own businesses. It’s no secret that entrepreneurial jazz doesn’t play well in a country hobbled by the socialism of French President, François Hollande. Nearly 11 % of the country is unemployed, and 1.6 million of its citizens have skedaddled the country for better opportunities abroad. Edward Silhol, co-founder of the French internet platform Stample, bucked the odds stacked against him to create what he calls a ‘collaborative knowledge network.’ He explains, “Concretely, we’re building a tool that helps you stay on top of your digital world. It’s a collaborative digital library, which you can fill with content from anywhere. You can think of it as a social network for knowledge. As your library grows, it becomes a treasure chest of contextualized information. So when you look back using our search engine, you’ll instantly get to the essence of a subject.” France is perhaps the ultimate in entrepreneurial dead zones at the moment. Anyone looking to start a company is immediately lumbered with some of the highest tax rates in the industrialized world. Young adults looking to tap into whatever ‘cool’ opportunities France has left will find themselves haunted by the 17th century ghost-of-mercantilism-past, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, who served as the Finance Minister to King Louis XIV from 1665 to 1683. Colbert’s view of taxing citizens, while prohibiting free trade by controlling their

industries. “It’s simply, and solely, the abundance of money within a state which makes the difference in its grandeur and power.” Peter Dicken, a professor of geography at the University of Manchester in the UK, has spent years researching the effects of globalization on economic growth, and finds the notion of mercantilism detrimental to a healthy economy. “Mercantilism is based

what’s currently happening to the world. They’re trying to deal with 21st century challenges with 20th century mindsets.”. This gimmick has left French millennials tired and frustrated. That’s why some 50,000 French nationals, most of them high-tech entrepreneurs, have fled to Silicon Valley outside San Francisco in recent years. Reports indicate that thousands more are

upon the idea that a nation’s wealth and security depend upon its ability to control its external trade at the expense of others,” he says in his 1998 book Global Shift, which explores shifting economics in a digitally globalized world. Now, with Hollande proposing a plan for 60% gains tax for all startups, Edward Silhol can’t help but remark that the government is sawing the branch they’re sitting on. “They’re not seriously looking for solutions, it’s just power play,” he states. “Our politicians really have no clue

on the move to New York, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and London, as well. There’s more than a soupcon of irony that the French millennials who decided not to fly the coop refer to themselves as “pigeons” and their revolution as Le Movement Pigeons. In French, the word also means “sucker.” “France has a lot of problems,” aspiring French entrepreneur Guillaume Santacruz recently told the New York Times. “There’s a feeling of gloom that seems to be growing deeper. The economy is

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not going well, and if you want to get ahead or run your own business, the environment is not good.” As Santacruz sees it, millennial entrepreneurs in France face a bleak future. “There is a fear of failure,” he added. “If you fail, its like the ultimate shame. In London, there is this can-do attitude, and a sense that anything’s possible. If you make an error, you can get up again.” Statistics show that between 80% to 90% of all French start-ups are doomed to fail. Adding insult to injury, many of the surviving 10% are either taxed or regulated out of existence. France’s youth are tired of waiting for the political elite to become part of the 21st century. “Some teenagers are using Instagram to make more money than Hollande,” Silhoul says, voicing frustration. “A 13-year-old boy recently raised more than $2 million in crowd-funding to clean up wasted plastic from the oceans. Basically, the young generations are not going to wait for [Hollande] and his elitist friends to get off their cozy couches to fix the planet and do the things that matter.” Young entrepreneurs’ disappointment with the hostility they encounter in France has not fallen on deaf ears. Though there may not be many solutions in play yet, high ranking officials are, at the very least, aware there’s a problem. “Let’s be honest,” French Labor Minister Francois Rebsamen recently told the newspaper Le Parisien. “We are failing.” With sentiments like that, it really makes one wonder if Hollande isn’t the biggest sucker of them all.