Trinity Frontier Magazine Issue 7 by Trinity Frontier

CULTURE | POLITICS | TRAVEL

VOL. IV ISS. I | DECEMEBER 2019

A BEGINNERS GUIDE TO ROADTRIPPING - BOTANIC GARDEN TUBINGEN - LESBIAN MOSCOW - GOING SOLO IN THE ALPS HONG KONG PROTESTS & more

Message from the editor Welcome to the seventh issue of Trinity Frontier Magazine! We are a student publication that revolves around the themes of international affairs and global perspectives. Our broad range of topics and styles includes everything from political and cultural analysis to travel narratives and guides as well as photo essays. We aim to provide a space for students to question the world around them, and present their perspectives, thoughts and ideas, to create a thought-provoking platform for student journalism. We hope you will enjoy this issue as much as we have enjoyed compiling it. If you have any feedback or would like to submit a piece for the next issue, we encourage you to get in touch with us. I would like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank everyone involved in making this issue possible. It would not have been possible without the hard work and dedication of every member of the Trinity Frontier team, or the continuous support and guidance of Trinity Publications. And, of course, thank you to all who submitted articles for this issue, and for shining a light on issues ranging from the protests in Lebanon, to the experience of being a queer exchange student in Moscow, and many more... Enjoy the magazine! Hannah Rieger, Editor in Chief

Editorial Team Editor-In-Chief: Hannah Rieger Politics and International Relations Editor: Isabella Nonnen Society and Culture Editor: Eliza Meller Travel Editor: Alice Forbes Copy Editor: Caoimhe White Design Editor: Lizzy Vallely Secretary: Aoife Brennan Public Relations Officer: Jessica Howard

TABLE OF CONTENTS Society and Culture Lesbian Moscow - Anonymous

Lifting the Veil over Iran’s Prejudices - Eliza Meller

India’s Third Gender - Jessica Howard

Politics and international relations Lebanon Protests - Alice Forbes

Lebanon Protests Photo Essay - Maeve Lane

South America in Turmoil? - Hannah Rieger

Profit and Politics in Hong Kong - Isabella Noonen

Travel Serenity at the Botanischer Garten - Anna O’Connor

Going Solo in the Alps - Hannah Kunze

A Beginner’s Guide to Road-Tripping - Moya Mawhinney

Language Practice in Madrid - Alice Forbes

Society and Culture

Experience of a butch lesbian eXchange student in Moscow- Anonymous The first time I was alone in Russia I was confronted by a man in the park. “Ты мужчина или женщина? Ты мужчина или женщина?!” It took a few seconds for me to understand what he was yelling. “Are you a man or a woman?!” I ignored him and immediately called my friend to tell her what had happened. I tried not to sound too upset on the phone, but I was. This confrontation took place about a week into my year abroad, and it brought with it the realisation that I did not fit in. I haven’t been living under a rock. I knew before my arrival in Russia that it is not the world’s most LGBTQ+ friendly country. However, in the months leading up to my year abroad, I kept telling myself two things: most people have terrible gaydar when it comes to lesbians, and Moscow is a big city and probably the most liberal place in the entire country. And I was right. Moscow is huge, and there is definitely an

eclectic and interesting mix of people here. I am attending the Gorky Literary Institute, where ninety percent of the students are hardcore goths and a lot of them are definitely gay. One girl has a tattoo of the word ‘alive’ on her cheek, and another woman has random parts of her head shaved like someone attacked her with clippers. I had been expecting every woman to conform to the classic ‘Russian woman’ stereotype — long blonde hair, fake eyelashes, six inch heels, fur coat; in other words, beacons of hyper-femininity. Those women do exist and there are plenty of them here, but there are also women who don’t fit this stereotype. Many women have short hair, and nearly every two weeks I catch an elusive glimpse of a butch on the metro. I want to make it clear that I have a lot of respect for feminine women. I want to talk about my experience as a butch woman, but I don’t want it to come off as an attack on femininity. If a woman has found comfort and happiness in femininity, I think that’s great. When I was a teenager, I used to resent these women, but that was before I realised that I don’t have to compare myself to them. About two years ago

“When I do wear makeup these days I feel like I’m taking a few steps back in my young adult journey of Self DiscoveryTM. I don’t enjoy it. The thought of doing it specifically to satisfy these men makes it even less enjoyable.” I stopped wearing makeup, then I shaved all my hair off, and then I made a slow but steady transition to wearing nothing but Hawaiian shirts and mom jeans. Unfortunately, Hawaiian shirts are not ideal for Russia; but neither is being a butch lesbian. The primary thing making me feel unsafe here has been my interactions with men. Since that first incident of the man shouting at me in the park, unpleasant interactions with men have been a constant feature of my Russian experience. These interactions range from being stared at on the metro, to men randomly shoving me, to men physically restraining or assaulting me (once). Luckily, nothing has been too bad yet, particularly with the help of Netflix, self-pity, and the support of the wonderful people that are here with me. Unfortunately, the fact that men repeatedly treat me this way has made my experience feel a bit limited; I am often afraid to do things alone, and I am constantly vigilant. My mum told me to walk quickly and with confidence, so that’s what I do. My dad told me to wear makeup and a bow in my hair, but I am not quite there yet.

thought of doing it specifically to satisfy these men makes it even less enjoyable. All of this aside, Moscow is a beautiful, vibrant, and ridiculously efficient city. I would highly recommend it. You may also be surprised to know that the gay scene in Moscow isn’t half bad. There are some gay clubs, bars, and even a gay burger joint specifically for bears. My friend has had a lot of luck on Grindr. One night he managed to shift five men in under an hour; I, meanwhile, danced sadly in the techno room, with not a lesbian in sight. It was a very isolating feeling. But I guess that’s just it: being a butch lesbian in Moscow has been a bit of an isolating experience, but it’s an experience that I am happy to be having nonetheless.

The behaviour of a lot of these men seems to come from a nasty intersection of misogyny and homophobia, but I think it is mostly misogyny. The fact that I am gay probably doesn’t occur to most of them. The problem is that I am not feminine enough. This experience has come at a really weird stage of my life where I finally know who I am and feel comfortable being myself, but I have thrown myself into a culture that has a big problem with it. It would probably make my life easier if I follow my dad’s advice and start wearing a lot of makeup again, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do that just yet. When I do wear makeup these days I feel like I’m taking a few steps back in my young adult journey of Self Discovery™. I don’t enjoy it. The

the author is a 3rd year student doing European Studies, who loves veganism, environmentalism, and DIY haircuts.

Illustration by Hannah Rieger

lifting the veil over iran’s Prejudices - Eliza Meller “You know, you shouldn’t do that.” It was our third day in hot, heavy, polluted Tehran. We had spent it visiting various beautifully ornate mosques, the grand palaces of the Shah Pahlavi, the American Embassy — or what was left of it from its graffitied walls with skullfaced Liberty and slogans calling: “Death to America!” — and meandered through the spiced-infused streets of the Grand Bazar. My mum, brother, and I carried Polish passports, which made things easy for us; my dad, on the other hand, had his British passport. This meant that we were assigned a government guide to keep an eye on us throughout our stay, and particularly on my dad’s movements as a potential spy. In the days leading up to our trip, we were all itching to leave boring Brussels; my dad, however, was also wary. Not only was he going there as a British national, but also as a former journalist. And, having heard of the arrest of BritishIranian journalist, Zaghari-Ratcliffe, on her family holiday to Iran just a few months prior to ours, he felt he had reason to be. Retreating from the sensory overload and hubbub of the market, we took a short rest in a clearing outside a mosque. “You know, you shouldn’t do that”, a mullah said, coming out of the mosque and approaching my dad who had just lit a cigarette. My dad’s reaction was to immediately drop it, scrunching it hurriedly on the floor. What happened next, though, took him completely by surprise: “Relax my friend, it’s just bad for your health!” The mullah, who was young, with a hip, clean-shaven hairstyle, came over with a beaming smile and gave my dad a hug. I then exchanged Instagram names with him.

When the average Westerner thinks of Iran, more often than not they picture a stern-looking man clad in black with a bulbous beard and dark, pointed eyebrows — basically, the portrait of Iran’s revolutionary religious leader, Ayatollah Khomeini. They might recollect scenes from that American blockbuster movie Argo and think: “Iran? What a backward country, why would anybody ever want to go there?” This is exactly what our friends and family kept asking us before our trip and only half-jokingly told us to “please, come back!”. This is unsurprising considering the threat the 1979 revolution posed the globe when it established the world’s first ever Islamic republic. However, assuming that this movement characterises Iranian society back then, and today, is thoroughly wrong. It is important to be aware that the Iranian revolution wasn’t actually initiated by a bunch of old, ultraconservative bearded men, but by socialist students. They were fighting to topple a monarch who was hogging the country’s wealth and endorsing ceaseless censorship, unlawful arrests, and CIA-style torture tactics. It was after the youth stirred up anti-American sentiment on the street that the religious clerics claimed the revolution and steered it for their own means. Marjane Satrapi’s beautifully crafted graphic novel: Persepolis reveals this perspective on the revolution, recounting her socialist family’s strong engagement in the secular branch of the movement against the Shah. Mentioning her ten-year-old self begging her parents to join them on violent protests, her feverish reading of Marx and Engels - while also indulging us with her obsessions over boys and punk rock - she offers such a sobering comparison to the Western media’s black and white portrayal of Iran and its people. It reveals a thrillingly rebellious and bohemian side to Iranian society that I am so thankful to have caught a glimpse of on my family holiday there three years ago.

“The mullah, who was young, with a hip, clean-shaven hairstyle, came over with a beaming smile and gave my dad a hug. I then exchanged Instagram names with him.”

As soon as we set foot in Iran, my younger brother — blueeyed with wavy, blond hair — drove the girls nuts. Huddled around him, they delighted over how he looked “just like” Justin Bieber or Zac Efron — something he’d cringe at grievously. Everywhere we went we were proposed to have pictures taken with us and asked about a thousand questions on what it was like living in the West. Being virtually the only tourists there, we really got a sense that people had a craving to learn about the outside world. We found that the sanctions American and European powers had imposed on the country were not only felt in the economy, but socially too. Being cut off from the rest of the world must make it hard to relate to it, and feel a part of it too. One evening, our guide invited us over to his house for dinner, his wife having cooked us a lavish banquet of Iranian delicacies. As we were beckoned through their entrance, my mum and I were told we could take our headscarves off. More surprising, however, was finding a TV in their living room blaring a news report on CNN. As Western media channels are banned in Iran, we prompted our guide about it. He told us, with a cheeky smile, to “hush”, but everybody did it. This is to say that although Iranians live under strict rules, they find ways around them. I saw this in the way women would reveal a lock of hair through their headscarves, or how meticulously they applied their makeup. Most evident was one Friday evening when, upon our arrival back from a camel ride at a camp in the Bafgh desert, we crashed a mad party. Headscarves were flung off, drink was flowing, music blaring, people singing and dancing like crazy - it seemed, among the sand dunes and a canopy of stars, people were far above any Ayatollah’s reach. To view Iranians as black-clad killjoys with backward views is so diminishing for the cultural wealth they possess. In 550 BC, its Achaemenid empire was the world’s first global superpower, spanning three continents and ruling over 40% of the world’s population. In the Renaissance, it developed the most awe-striking architecture you’ll ever see as typified by the Naghsh-e Jahan Square in Isfahan. And today, though the Iranian State censors all forms of art, it boasts a booming film industry and a flourishing underground music scene. One of Iran’s big punk-rock stars, King Raam (like an Iranian-style Nick Cave), even called Tehran the “new New York” in terms of its artistic buzz.

We need to separate the image we have of the Iranian State, with its intimidating morality police and oppressive laws — not to mention its abysmal human rights record — from the average Iranian person on the street. Yes, there will always be some black-draped women telling their daughters off for staring at a boy too long, but there are also hipsters who just love to rock out to King Raam gigs in underground music bars like you or me. The country-wide protests in 2018 are a testament to the sheer amount of people who belong to the latter group. They include people like ten-year-old Marjane, our desert party-goers, our hip, Insta-famous mullah, and maybe even our government guide. We shouldn’t forget them, as they could offer so much to the world if they had the chance. And boy, would they show us a good time too.

Eliza is a second year English student. She’s big into photography and Middle East politics, has a crush on the Sunday Times war correspondent Christina Lamb, and asked which celebrity she’d choose to have a drink with, Tom Waits is her number one.

Pictured: Qom, an important pilgrimage site for Shia Muslims words and Photo by the author

India’s Third Gender An insight into the Hijras community and their origins- Jessica Howard

They entered the train and people immediately looked away. Hastily seizing their pockets, people searched for whatever scrunched up rupees they could spare. Nobody seemed like they wanted to be approached but the minute a red sari appeared in front of them, they would brandish their money in the air and the whole interaction would be over in seconds. There was no time for words. It was as if there was a secret code that everybody on the train knew — everybody, that was, except for us. I was travelling with my teaching partner from the centre of Kolkata to the remote village of Bethberia. We had been in India for almost a month and knew the route pretty well by then as it was our daily commute to the school where we were volunteering. When one of the red saris started walking towards us, I noticed that they didn’t look like any of the other people I had seen begging. They weren’t crippled or blind, but were perfectly — and even beautifully — in shape, as I could make out by their flexed muscles latching onto handrails. Their saris were also far from ragged, but were carefully positioned and boasting intricate handsewn designs. I suddenly heard clapping and felt a rush of air brush my nose from the movement of outstretched palms in front of us. We hadn’t given them money but that’s because we never gave people money on the train. The clapping continued, and people started to look at us. I heard a man mutter something in Bengali. Another red sari approached, and they started to caress and kiss the boy I was with. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about telling them to stop or grabbing him, but I didn’t know how they would react. Eventually, a man stepped in and handed them some rupees and it all stopped. They turned promptly around and proceeded to the next carriage. “You have to pay”, the man warned us in a low voice, as he too carried on his way. The people who approached us on the train that day belong to a group of over five million called the ‘Hijras’, or the third gender. Today, the community is associated with dirtiness and dangerous magical powers in many cultures the world over. The communities in India are almost as old as Hinduism itself. It is said that they have the power to bless or to curse, and have a direct link with the Goddess Bahuchara Mata. While many Hijras are born intersex and grow up within the community, the majority are men who feel out of place in their own bodies. Such feelings arise, it is believed, because they did not fulfil their dharma or obligations in a previous life and the only way to be redeemed is to be castrated and live as a woman in honour of Bahuchara Mata. Although the story of Bahuchara Mata varies between states in India, they all share elements of the following parable. Bahuchara Mata was born in the region of Gujarat into the Brahmin caste. One day, when Bahuchara was travelling with her sister, a looter named Bapiya attacked them. In response, Bahuchara cursed Bapiya with infertility, but while doing so, she cut off her own breasts, leaving her with a masculine appearance. In order to break the curse, Bapiya was made to serve Bahuchara dressed and acting like a woman. Bahuchara is present in all aspects of Hijras life, from their initiation

ceremony to how they make their living. The initiation ceremony takes the shape of a castration ritual called ‘Nivara’, where the Hijras start to understand the life of their Goddess and her universal presence. The origin of this practice is to be found in the parable of Prince Jetho. According to the tale, Jetho was infertile, so Bahuchara offered him a way to escape his suffering through castrating himself and dressing as a woman. After this, Jetho found himself blessed with many children in his next life. Many Hijras join the community because they cannot reproduce and fear that if they do not deal with the issue properly in their current life, they will find themselves in the same situation in their next seven lives. While certain Hijras may be able to reproduce biologically, sex and marriage remain strictly forbidden within most of these communities. After the Nivara ritual, the Hijras are considered as ‘Bhagat’. This means that they have received the power, or ‘bachura’, bestowed upon them by the Goddess to bless other Hindus. Traditionally, many communities across India believe that a Hijras blessing is the key to a long and happy life, which is why they are invited to births, weddings, and other important life events. ‘Bachura’ is bestowed through an ornate singing and dancing ceremony called ‘chela’, where only the most talented Hijras perform. The rest take up the role of dressmaking, fashioning exquisite bell-dotted outfits for the performers to wear during the ceremony. Unfortunately, in recent years, there has been a huge decline in the number of people inviting Hijras to family events, which has had a devastating impact on the community. In response, many turn up to events uninvited and demand their compensation. Most, however, resort to begging and prostitution. It is now pretty common to come across Hijras roaming the streets and hopping on trains in large cities like Kolkata, and if you don’t give them money, or agree to have sex with them, you and your family are left cursed. While everyone I saw on the train seemed to hand over their money almost automatically, I wonder how much longer the Hijras will be able to sustain this lifestyle. If people no longer feel obliged to have their newborns and marriages blessed, one has to wonder whether the time will come when they will no longer feel threatened by a mere curse.

Jessica is a 4th year European Studies student. She spent 3 months volunteering in India in the summer of 2019.

words and Photo by the author

Politics and international relations

Revolution in Lebanon

Words by alice Forbes

As I touched down on the runway in Beirut Airport on the afternoon of October 18, 2019, the first image that caught my gaze through the aeroplane window were the clouds of dark smoke rising high above the skyline. Inside the plane I perceived an atmosphere of nervous anticipation among the passengers — a shared inkling that something revolutionary was brewing that had no exact parallel in the country’s history. I had come to Lebanon to visit family, to take in historical sights, and to explore what Beirut had to offer in the way of culture. However, the night before my arrival, the city had, quite literally, been set alight by members of the public in protest. With the roads blocked, my fellow passengers and I were forced to walk along the motorway from the airport, taking in the sights of protestors beside flaming makeshift blockades. In the absence of cars, people rushed hurriedly along the roads, seeming bewildered and unsure of what was going on. In the hours and days that followed, my nineteen-year-old cousin, who had become involved in the protests, educated me on the reasons behind the demonstrations. The protests were a spontaneous and leaderless socio-economic revolt that had sprung up overnight in various locations throughout the country. The Lebanese government had attempted to impose a tax on internet calls through services such as WhatsApp which had become increasingly popular throughout Lebanon owing to the excessively costly nature of regular phone calls. For the Lebanese people, already suffering under intense state-enforced austerity measures, this was simply the last straw. Around a third of the Lebanese population live under the poverty line due to governmental corruption and nepotism. This statistic is an unacceptable one considering that Lebanon is generally recognised as a developed country. The small state holds the third highest debt level in the world, owing over eighty-five billion dollars, and the repercussions of this are visible everywhere. I was informed by my family upon arrival to their apartment that their power cuts off briefly every three hours, forcing them to rely on a private generator, because the state simply cannot offer twentyfour-hour electricity. Owing to a waste-management crisis, piles of rubbish lie in the streets and are often openly burned, which creates a worryingly toxic level of pollution. Additionally, the crumbling economy has been worsened by the influx of one and a half million Syrians since 2011. Initially, I felt frightened to be among the demonstrations. Perceiving the events through the tinted glasses of a western mentality, the terms ‘Middle-East’ and ‘riots’ can suggest violence and danger to European onlookers. However, my impression soon changed. It became clear to me that the revolutionary aspect of these protests is the sense of total unity and peace that they embody. Images and videos exploded over social media of demonstrators passing roses to the militia who had been sent to try and silence the protests and other protestors singing ‘Baby Shark’ to a young boy who had become frightened by the noise. My cousin, arriving back from the demonstrations late at night, excitedly passed around his phone, showing photos of the scenes he had encountered, exclaiming, “Christians and

Muslims are holding hands, standing side by side in the street. They are together against the government and are fighting for a better Lebanon”. Having grown up in Lebanon, a country infamous for sectarian divisions, he was witnessing something he had never seen before. Moreover, people of all economic classes were making it their duty to become involved. Despite the fact that a tax on WhatsApp calls would be less problematic for the city’s wealthiest residents than for its poorest, those with wealth were determined to fight alongside those without, and to create a united force against state corruption. I am reminded of the lines of a poem by Ilya Kaminsky: ‘In the sixth month / of a disastrous reign in the house of money ... / we (forgive us) / lived happily during the war’. The united outbreak of protests in Lebanon is a sign that its people are refusing to to ‘live happily’ while the most disadvantaged of the population bear the brunt of the financial hardships and are demanding an end to the ‘disastrous reign in the house of money’. Since they began, the protests have consistently managed to endure attempted governmental repression. I experienced Beirut with its roads blocked, its shops, schools, banks and businesses closed, yet buzzing with the energy of unprecedented revolution among the overwhelming majority of the population. The Prime Minister, Saad Hariri, realising the seriousness of the situation, announced a list of policy measures to address the demands at the root of the protests a mere seventy-two hours after they had begun; however, the nature of these measures fell far too short of the population’s expectations. The government proposed a reduction of the deficit without placing additional taxes on the people, but the sheer revelation that this was possible merely highlighted how corrupt and greedy the political elite had been up until this point. The people of Lebanon, completely unable to trust the current government, demanded that the sectarian political system that has existed since the Taif Accord be dismantled. This demand has already partly been achieved, with the resignation of Prime Minister Hariri on October 29 — a milestone victory for the protestors. During my visit I witnessed parents leading their families towards the demonstrations, chanting and flying Lebanese flags. People want their children to experience what they believe to be a pivotal moment in Lebanon’s history. Christians, Sunnis and Shias, from all economic and geographic walks of life are standing together and the atmosphere in the crowds is one of unity, solidarity, and a determination to provoke change. Something revolutionary is happening in Lebanon. Alice is a SS Spanish student and loves getting lost in new cities

Photo essay: A day at the anti-government demonstrations in Beirut words and photos by maeve Lane The revolution which for several weeks has gripped Lebanon is, at its most fundamental level, an act of unity and defiance by the Lebanese people against a corrupt government. My temporary residence in Lebanon has exposed me to the tragic results of the failing Lebanese government — from the garbage-filled streets in Beirut’s suburbs, to the fact that the state can only provide electricity for less than eight hours per day in certain areas. Nobody can swim in the glistening, turquoise waters of Beirut’s seaside boulevard as the state’s inadequate waste disposal services have left no other option but to pump dangerous quantities of sewage into the Mediterranean. These protests signal an utter frustration with this dire situation. The Lebanese people are saying that ‘enough is enough’ and are standing up for themselves and their country. I am honoured to be here to witness this moment of resistance, aspiration, and, hopefully, positive change. I hope to give you an insight into this momentous period for Lebanon by sharing pictures I took in Beirut on a particular day of the protests, October 25, 2019. This was one of the most eventful days of the revolution thus far, with the takeover of various derelict buildings by university students and professors and a large protester turnout. Unfortunately, it also saw an increased level of violence as clashes between the anti-government protesters and anti-protest Hezbollah and Amal supporters broke out. Having said that, the protests have predominantly been peaceful, united, and progressive; although I include images of these clashes, I want to reiterate that this is a non-violent movement.

A lecturer from the American University of Beirut holds a talk with students in a derelict structure known among locals as ‘The Egg’. The building was intended to be a public cinema and was near completion when the Civil War of 1975-1990 broke out, destroying large parts of its structure. It was neither rebuilt nor demolished, and has largely remained derelict until the outbreak of the demonstrations on October 17, 2019, when it became repurposed as a cultural space, concert venue, and, as seen in the above photo, even a lecture theatre.

A graffiti artist adorns the walls of ‘The Egg’ with a colourful mural featuring

a woman protesting. A heavy emphasis has been placed, especially by feminists and gender activists in Lebanon, on the high female participation in the protests, which many believe is indicative of a brighter, more progressive future for the country.

Political graffiti in ‘The Egg’ urging the resignation of

politician Saad Hariri, who resigned as Prime Minister of Lebanon on October 29. However, he is expected to be reinstated as Prime Minister within the next few weeks.

Another of the Egg’s murals celebrating the female participa-

tion in the protests. The Arabic script on the left reads ‘al nisaa yathurna’ and translates into ‘women revolt’ in English.

A striking piece of graffiti on a wall near Martyrs’ Square, the main hub of the protests in Beirut. The bold pink Arabic script reads ‘thawra’, or ‘revolution’ in English. By definition, a revolution is a movement that seeks an entire change of the existing regime; as these demonstrations make strong demands for the resignation of the current government as well as an end to sectarianism, ‘thawra’ is indeed an apt term to use.

Martyrs’ Square and the adjoining Riad al-Solh Square have become the central area of the Beirut

demonstrations. Campsites, stages for musicians to perform on, trucks blasting loud music, food stalls, and a large fist-shaped poster with the message ‘thawra’ have been erected in this area.

anti-government protesters gather at Riad al-Solh square, which is next to the

Grand Serail (the seat of the Lebanese Parliament). Past this group of protesters, the riot police have formed a human chain and are using riot shields in order to separate these anti-government protesters from supporters of Hezbollah and Amal, who are against the protests. The atmosphere is tense as both sides listen to a speech by Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah which is being played in the square

I climb up a derelict building to get a better view of what is going on. As Nasrallah’s speech ends, and as the Hezbollah and

Amal supporters leave Riad al-Solh Square, they charge towards the police

and begin throwing stones at the protesters. Violence breaks out.

The police manage to deter the aggressors within a few minutes using shields and batons.

The derelict building which I used as a vantage

point played host to several examples of political graffiti. The building, formerly ‘Le Grand Théâtre de Beyrouth’ was a public theatre, cinema, and commercial centre until its destruction during the Civil War. This graffiti struck me as it criticises the state’s inability to rebuild important public spaces after the war (which ended more than twenty years ago), and calls for people to begin restoring and making use of such spaces in the future.

As the night draws closer, a group of

doctors and medical professionals arrive to Martyrsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Square on an anti-government protest march, representing the solidarity of the medical sector with the demonstrators.

A teenager gives his own, witty interpretation of the situation with his

handmade sign and blunt (but insightful) slogan.

Turmoil in South America: protests spreading like wild fire? A state of emergency declared in Chile following deadly protests; violent clashes emerging in Bolivia over alleged electoral fraud during the presidential elections; the Amazon on fire — these are just some of the headlines from the South American continent that have been in the news over recent weeks. Just like the Amazon fires, political unrest seems to come in seasons in Latin America, and this year, the seasons are particularly harsh. The Chilean protests have proven to be the biggest in the country’s history, causing the deaths of more than twenty people, with at least five of these at the hands of state forces. The protests originally started in midOctober in response to a metro fare increase in Santiago, the country’s capital, but have since expanded in size and scope; Chileans are now protesting as a result of a general feeling of exploitation as costs of everyday life rise while wages remain stagnant. While protests continue amidst police crackdown on the demonstrations, a significant win for the protesters came with the announcement of a referendum to be held next year on the replacement of the Constitution.

Ecuador is experiencing unrest in the form of a changed political regime; the government was left-leaning for many years until it was recently replaced by a middle-right party. The new government under President Lenin Moreno meets

protest at seemingly every change it seeks to implement. In particular, protests were triggered in early October, 2019, when transportation unions took to the streets against cuts to petrol subsidies that had been in place for forty years. Mass protests continued as thousands of people, including students, indigenous people, human rights organisations, and labour union members, demonstrated against governmentimposed cuts and reforms. Meanwhile, in Bolivia, protests erupted following the presidential election of October 20, 2019, due to suspected electoral fraud. Evo Morales was, according to the official vote count, elected for a fourth term. However, this was only possible due to a 2017 ruling from Bolivia’s Constitutional Court that lifted a ban on presidential candidates running for an indefinite number of terms. This ruling that was seen as a “blow to democracy” by Morales’ opponents, as it came less than two years after a referendum in which Bolivians voted against abolishing term limits. First elected in 2006, the socialist Morales was seen as a great hope for Bolivia as the country’s first indigenous president. Indeed, his first reforms were quite pragmatic and proved successful. However, his enabling of steady state-driven growth has been criticised by his opponents for being unsustainable, enabling corruption, and making the country vulnerable. Over thirty people have died in the unrest since the October elections, both in

clashes with security forces and in conflicts between Morales’ supporters and opponents. Morales resigned after the armed services withdrew their support for him and he has since fled to Mexico, where he has been granted refuge. In Argentina, amidst an economic crisis that has led to a third of the population living in poverty, a centre-left opposition candidate, lberto Fernandez, was elected president. Despite being considered as a great hope for the country, he immediately caused tensions with President Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil by calling for the release of the imprisoned former president of Brazil, Inácio Lula da Silva. This move is said to foreshadow what is likely to be a complicated relationship between the two countries. Brazil and Argentina are the two biggest regional powers in South America, and if they are in conflict, it affects the entire continent. In the north of the continent, there is yet another country that has found itself in a precarious situation: Venezuela. The Venezuelan economy went into free-fall after the election of Nicolás Maduro in 2013. Political discontent has resulted from hyperinflation, power cuts, and shortages in basic necessities such as food and medicine. In 2018, Maduro was re-elected for a sixth term in a highly controversial election which was boycotted by most opposition parties. Juan Guaidó, president of the National Assembly, declared himself as acting president in January and was recognised as the legitimate president by more than fifty countries. However, the military has remained loyal to Maduro. According to the United Nations, around four million people have fled Venezuela since 2014. The main reason for the frustration evident across South America is to be found in the changing perception of the continent from the beginning of the millennium to today. In the early 20th Century, a new light shone on the continent. This led to growing economies, aided by the export of raw materials and increased co-operation and trade between Latin American countries and the wider world. Furthermore, Brazil was seen as a new political superpower, while social programmes for the poor and new opportunities for the middle classes brought hope to the prospering continent. However, by the end of the century it became clear that such economic prosperity had reached its peak and was soon replaced with unemployment, unfulfilled hope, and anger. While the history and situation of each South American country is different, there is a general, continentwide feeling of dissatisfaction leading to a precariousness and volatility that is embodied within the civil disobedience rife across the continent.

words and illustrations by Hannah Rieger Hannah is a SS Jewish and Islamic Civilisations Student and the Editor-in-Chief, whose research interest include South American, Middle Eastern and European politics.

Illustration (left): Chilean singer Mon Laferte showing a message of support for national demonstrations at the Latin Grammys. (“In Chile they torture, rape and kill”)

Profit and politics in hong kong words by isabella noonen

On June 9, 2019, more than a million Hongkongers took to the streets to protest a controversial proposal that would allow for the extradition of the city’s citizens to mainland China for criminal trial. In the time since this protest, Hongkongers have achieved a range of remarkable feats including the creation of a thirty-mile-long human chain and the attainment of their initial demand of the withdrawal of the extradition bill. The protests have become a remarkable example of what can be accomplished through persistent application of people power. At the same time, however, the players of today’s Great Power game — the governments of the United States and China, but also the powerful corporate entities interacting with these governments — have seen fit to use the fact of the Hong Kong protests as a pawn. Despite the (at least in theory) heavily pro-Hong Kong protest stance of the U.S. government, a phenomenon currently exists whereby a variety of American companies have taken actions that appear, inadvertently or not, to support the anti-protest stance of China. The controversy that has generated perhaps the most news has come from an unexpected source — the National Basketball Association (NBA). On October 4, 2019, a tweet from Daryl Morey, the General Manager of the Houston Rockets basketball team, implored his followers to ‘stand with Hong Kong’ — all things considered quite a mild expression of support for a hardlycontroversial movement in America. However, backlash from within the basketball world was surprisingly quick. The NBA as

an organisation released two official statements, in English and Mandarin respectively. The former opened by stating that the NBA recognised ‘that the views expressed by Houston Rockets General Manager Daryl Morey have deeply offended many of our friends and fans in China, which is regrettable’, while the latter, translated back into English, expressed the organisation’s disappointment with Daryl Morey’s ‘inappropriate speech’. Why such an intense sport-wide backlash for what was at most an expression of support for a movement steadily supported within the U.S. government? One has to consider that, though the NBA is an American sports league, it has significant commercial interests extending beyond national boundaries. At the time of Morey’s tweet, the Houston Nets and the Los Angeles Lakers were set to play a series of exhibition games in mainland China. Perceived support within the NBA for a cause so vehemently opposed by the Chinese government might appear a threat to profits in a way that support for other political causes popular in America might not be. Basketball is not the only sport that has experienced a Chinarelated controversy stemming from the Hong Kong protests. On October 6, 2019, in a post-competition interview, professional Hearthstone e-sports player and Hong Kong resident Ng Wai ‘blitzchung’ Chung wore a symbolic face mask and shouted, ‘Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our age’. Two days later, an official statement from Blizzard Entertainment, owner of the Hearthstone property, announced that ‘blitzchung’ had been

“Though the NBA and Blizzard cases have been among both the highest-profile and strangest, they are by no means the only instances of corporations drawing fire for perceived stances on the Hong Kong protests.” banned from Hearthstone e-sports for twelve months and ten thousand dollars of his prize money had been rescinded. Many sensed a profit motive behind this statement. While the current size of Blizzard’s Chinese market pales in comparison to its overall revenue, China’s huge population and rapidly-expanding economy presents tremendous growth potential. Blizzard may well see expansion into China as the future of their business model — a future that could be threatened should their star e-sports players feel confident enough to contest China’s politics. Though the NBA and Blizzard cases have been among both the highest-profile and strangest, they are by no means the only instances of corporations drawing fire for perceived stances on the Hong Kong protests. Apple has been condemned by both protest supporters on social media and Chinese state media for first rejecting, then approving, then again rejecting the ‘HKlivemap’ application on its App Store. The app, which crowdsources the locations of protestors and police, has been praised by protest supporters as a way to help citizens avoid police-protestor collisions that have increasingly become flashpoints of state violence. The app was in turn condemned by The People’s Daily (a pro Chinese Communist Party newspaper) for enabling users to evade and/or ambush police. Apple has settled, for the moment, on removing the app. Such corporate actions defy American moralistic rhetoric: why would a company have any reason to express support for the communist threat over business-loving, freedom-promoting America? Current events suggest that, for multinational corporations, money outstrips the value of rhetoric. Just as the governments of both China and the United States react to the Hong Kong protests in a way that might generate geopolitical benefit, corporations react to the Hong Kong protests in a way that might generate profit. The expressed political ideologies of the respective Powers matter little to corporations when both are willing to provide business opportunities. The Hong Kong protests are far more than a talking point that countries and corporations might appropriate to gain power and profit. However in the midst of this latest phase of confrontation between the United States, China, and the corporate entities straddling the line between them, one of the world’s most ambitious current political movements has been commoditised.

Isabella is a SF European Studies student studying French and Russian languages. Hailing from Reno, Nevada, she loves to be a typical American and use being a Trinity student as an excuse to travel.

Travel

Serenity at the Botanischer Garten,

Tübingen

words and photos by Anna O’Connor It was my third and final Sunday in Tübingen, Germany, where I had spent my August weeks attending a language course at the local university in the hopes of improving my cultural and linguistic knowledge. As I had come to expect, all of the shops were closed, excluding a few cafés, lightly occupied by tourists and coffee-drinkers. The two weekends beforehand, I had been busy with things to do and people to see, but this Sunday, I was alone, and honestly quite excited about it. In Dublin, it seems that no one takes a break anymore, and there isn’t really anything that sets Sundays apart from other days of the week. In Germany, things are different. The previous day had been hectic for me, involving an early train to Stuttgart for a morning of shopping, followed by some errand-running in the afternoon, and then an evening dance class which ran late into the night. The thought of a lazy Sunday sounded like a wonderful contrast. The three weeks previous had been just as busy — I had gone to class nearly every day, ventured out on trips and hikes, and met up with family. With just under a week remaining, I knew I had to start to prioritise when it came to my activities. I had been taking the bus multiple times a day and always passed a stop called ‘Botanischer Garten’ (Botanical Gardens). Although I wasn’t a frequent visitor of gardens, in that moment it seemed to be the perfect lazy day activity. I wasn’t disappointed — the garden’s open space was surrounded by ugly high-rise apartment blocks, which evoked ‘Tübingen’ in the best way possible, as even the shabby buildings afforded me a certain feeling of happiness and comfort. The gardens were luscious, green, and filled with beautiful flowers and plants. As a bonus, they belonged to the university, so I could access the WiFi. After my chaotic few weeks, I found the smells and sights so intriguing and calming.

The greenhouse featuring tropical plants was a definite highlight. The humidity inside transported me to a totally different space, this sensation aided by the slightly disconcerting bird chirps that I couldn’t quite locate. After I had explored the various sections, I went outside again and sat on a bench, taking in the freshness of it all and listening to the sound of people, young and old, chatting in German. The day was getting warmer and my legs were becoming tired from all the walking and exploring, even after my rest on the bench. I didn’t want to leave, but I had more I needed to experience during my beautiful stay in Tübingen. My time spent alone in Tübingen was hectic and fast-paced as I was trying to fit in as many new experiences as possible. While this challenged my perceptions of my abilities and pushed me to escape my comfort zone, allowing myself a morning of peace and serenity in the Botanischer Garten provided a needed respite from an otherwise chaotic month.

anna is a js english literature and german student whose interests include writing, travel and art.

Going Solo in the Alps

words by hannah kUNZE

I was no sight for sore eyes as I stood on the curb of Nassau Street in Dublin’s January frost, my suitcase clutched in hand. It bulged with an array of ski gear that I had lugged almost three thousand miles from Boston the day before to accompany me on my next escapade to Tignes, France, which was about to commence with a famed thirty-hour bus ride across two oceans and three countries. I was excited, but very much alone. Skiing the Alps had always been a dream of mine as a former ski instructor with fifteen years of experience on various American slopes. Naturally, I leapt at the opportunity to sign up for Trinity’s ski trip, despite being the only one of my friends with any interest in seeing the iconic mountainscape. And so, I found myself alone with only my bag for company on this excursion of a lifetime. Although I knew the trip would be a solo adventure when I signed up, actually being there by myself was unexpectedly intimidating, only amplified by the solitude of the bus ride. I resolved to try and befriend the girls sitting across from me on the bus. Filled with the fear of introducing myself but propelled forward by the nightmare of spending a week in misery alone in the mountains, I asked to sit down. As it turns out, I had chosen to befriend possibly the warmest group of nursing students at Trinity. My anxiety began to lift as we chatted our way through the remaining hours of the bus ride. It was the following morning when I first glimpsed the Alps, as the bus wound its way up spiraling mountain avenues. The peaks were a vision for my exhausted eyes, with rocky cliffs sparkling in the sun and snow gently puffing from the ground with each icy gust of wind. Our resort was in direct proximity to the slopes, affording me a stunning view from my room, where I would spend much time gazing at the view out the window and wistfully sighing when I got sick in the middle of the week. I may have lucked out with the girls on the bus, but my luck faltered with my roommates. Not only was I delegated the couch as a bed, but the three girls with whom I was sharing were incredibly unfriendly, despite my efforts to minimise my presence in the room. At one point, while at the height of my illness, I was awoken by one of them asking if they could take my drink, as Sweet Caroline blared for the forty-second consecutive time in the background. It took quite some selfcontrol not to lock them out and bury the key in a snowbank.

Despite the unfortunate roommate situation, I soon realised that I had one of the best social situations of anyone on the trip, being able to switch between socialising and solitude at will. I spent my mornings and occasionally entire days by myself on the mountains, exploring winding paths and feeling completely at peace. I also got myself into and subsequently out of several nearly catastrophic situations. One day, I decided to ski across three mountains into a remote valley. After getting truly lost amongst the trails, I ended up inside a crackly old gondola poring over a damp trail map and wondering how to manoeuver my way back to the safety of my couch-bed. a Another time, I unwisely elected to try a black diamond thickly furnished with moguls. The odds were stacked against me, but I made it to the bottom thirty minutes later, sapped of energy but replete with the satisfaction of being able to say I skied (or stumbled) down a black diamond in the French Alps. In the afternoons and at nights I would join my friends from the bus at various events. They turned out to be electric dancers, to be found twirling over tabletops slick with melted snow and beer at every après-ski. One day, we spontaneously ditched our skis for snowboards. Although I had snowboarded before, my skills were mortifyingly infantile and my butt became very friendly with the hard-packed snow that day. With each passing day, my fear of loneliness dissipated a bit more, and by the end of the week I had come to a satisfying conclusion that travelling without friends is actually enjoyable. With the right balance of sociality and independence, it can be more of a tranquil escape and an opportunity to meet new people than a terrifying endeavor. Future solo adventures are definitely on the cards for this girl. il hannah is a sf english student who especially loves exploring the mountains, whether on foot or on skis.

Photos by Hannah Rieger

A Beginner’s Guide to Road-Tripping Words and Photos by Moya Mawhinney

There is something romantic about the idea of road tripping through Europe: your vintage VW camper van is stocked full of fuzzy blankets, surf boards, and endless snacks, your best friend is driving, the tunes are blaring, and the afternoon French sun is belting down, kissing you through the open windows. Except, in reality, you are actually too broke to afford a VW camper van, and too young to hire a car in Europe, so you are stuck with your friend’s smelly, crumb-filled Polo that is somehow meant to take you all the way from Belfast to southern Italy and back. Here are a few things I learnt along the way on my European road trip. The cost of the road Before the trip began, I had budgeted enough for Airbnbs each night, the occasional meal out, and the ferry crossing. However, I had not anticipated the cost of the most fundamental aspect of the trip — driving. This is something for which you really need to set aside cash. Tolls and petrol are expensive, both more so than I initially thought. This was manageable at first, as we remained excited by the novelty of driving to Italy. Gradually, however, the amount of money we were throwing into machines started to take a toll — we were even charged twenty euro for a ten minute stretch along pot-holed coastal roads in Italy. It got to the point where I was selecting the ‘no tolls’ option on Google Maps every time we started a new leg. And don’t even get me started on petrol; I don’t

want to think about the amount of tanks it took to get from Belfast to southern Italy and back. Music and Podcasts There are four definitive stages to road trip music. The first is background music: you’re in a good mood, debriefing about the last place you stayed, and outlining the plan for the next few days. You’re too busy talking to care about what is playing, so it ends up being someone’s chill vibes playlist on Spotify. This merges swiftly into the next phase of feel good music; the mood is still high but conversation comes in spontaneous bursts, intermingled with singing along to a summer vibes playlist. However, energy will soon begin to fade and the music will naturally take an acoustic turn. James Vincent McMorrow or Mumford and Sons albums will soundtrack the many hours spent staring out the window, pretending you’re in an awful Netflix film where adult-looking teenagers ‘find’ themselves on a road trip. The fourth stage is the most important of all; the final forty-five minutes of the journey wherein you’re trying to prevent the driver from getting sleepy. So comes the final push — a classic crowd-pleasing playlist entitled ‘Year 8 Disco Bangers’, including hits from Jason Derulo, Pitbull and, of course, The Wanted’s lyrically complex ‘Glad You Came’. Interrupting this music saga is the occasional podcast. Turning on a podcast is a great idea, but only if executed well. After much trial and error, I can confirm that the prime road trip podcast

genre is comedy, as it proved useful in livening up the mood of the car; ancient history risked the driver falling asleep, politics was too depressing, and true crime felt a bit too close to a possible reality. The Inevitable Mess Living out of a car for weeks on end inevitably creates a huge mess. It was almost a good thing we hadn’t rented a car as it would have needed a thorough gutting by the end of the trip. I would advise being prepared for crumbs getting everywhere — endless car picnics and overindulging in pastries led to a layer of crumbs on every surface. Moreover, make sure to dry out your wet clothes in the sun before the smell of dampness takes over the car.

moya is a js art history student who loves a good skyscanner deal and finding the most instagrammable spots.

Setbacks Despite how obvious this sounds, you really don’t realise how dependent you are on your car while on a road trip until something goes wrong. Luckily, we didn’t get into any major accidents, but we did manage to get a flat tyre on one pot-hole filled countryside road between Rome and Naples. After sitting on the roadside watching Youtube videos on how to put on a spare tyre, we managed to get back on the road. Thank God for far-reaching 4G, otherwise who knows how long we would have waited for some kind Italian folk to help us out. Overall Regardless of the mess we made of my friend’s car, the endless hours wondering when the motorway was going to end, and the annoying amount of money we threw into toll machines and petrol pumps, I really cannot recommend a European road trip enough. Having the freedom of the car allowed for so many spontaneous trips, and the comfort of customising our travel plans. Just remember to pack your aux and you’re good to go.

Language practice in madrid words by Alice Forbes Despite being a language student in Trinity, my level of basic conversational Spanish has always been relatively poor. This is not helped by lectures conducted through English on the subjects of Hispanic literature, history and culture, combined with classes on how to translate a classical literary piece into Spanish from its English original. The best way to actually improve language skills is to spend time in the country where that language is spoken. It goes without saying, however, that this is difficult to achieve when you are a broke student, lacking the funds that a summer spent holidaying around Spain would require. Moreover, travelling on a budget can be tricky if you are looking to avoid speaking English, as most Au Pair agencies and children’s summer camps abroad purposely seek out native English speakers. Deciding that I should probably give up the search for paid work in Spain, I resolved to try and find a means of travelling that would at least allow me to spend next to nothing. It was a friend of mine who informed me about Workaway, an online platform that operates worldwide, offering travellers free accommodation and meals from their host, in return for a few short hours of labour, five days a week. The ‘labour’ can consist of just about anything, ranging from fruitpicking on ecological farms to reception-work in backpacker hostels. I even stumbled upon one profile in Italy with the enticing description ‘bed and board in exchange for cuddling baby goats’. Unfortunately, Italian was not the language I was attempting to master. I was pulled towards Madrid, knowing it to be a cultural hotspot, as well as the home of pure standardised Spanish, and within no time, I had a stay of four weeks confirmed with a Belgian family who needed help renovating an apartment they had recently bought in the outskirts of the city. At this point, you might wonder about my experience and skill set in the field of DIY, to which I would answer that I had absolutely zero. However, my host had assured me that no experience was necessary, and that I would be taught everything I needed to know upon my arrival. So, it was with this reassurance that I set off for Madrid some months later, excited at the prospect of a new adventure, and the chance to brush up on my language skills. Admittedly, the first week of my stay involved quite a few setbacks, and I quickly realised that my prior idyllic vision of afternoons spent chatting to locals in bustling cafes, after a few hours of light work in the mornings, was fairly delusional. The apartment that I was helping to renovate (which was also where I was living) was at building-site stage, meaning that my daily tasks involved drilling, plastering and mechanically sanding-down walls and ceilings. This was strenuous work which was difficult to carry out efficiently, especially as it was something I had never done before. It was also a lot messier than I had envisioned, this factor being exacerbated by my inherently clumsy nature and tendency to knock over full tubs of paint. I quickly grew

accustomed to my possessions (and person) being permanently coated in a thick layer of paint, plaster, and sawdust. The major low-point at this early stage, however, was the loneliness induced by solo travelling. My plan to improve my spoken Spanish was dependent on actually talking to Spanish people, which wasn’t easy to achieve in a city where I knew no one. Frantically searching for friends, I stumbled upon Meetup, a website that organises social get-togethers for people with similar interests, offering language-exchanges, along with other events ranging from discussions on literature to pub-crawls. I found these events really helpful for getting to know people, as the majority of attendees usually came alone and were generally as eager as I was to strike up friendships. Tinder, of course, is handy for making connections but you are guaranteed to end up on at least one awkward semi-date with a weirdo. I agreed to go for tapas with a Spanish man with whom I had been chatting on Tinder, but when I arrived at the bar, I realised he was at least twenty years older than in the photos on his profile. Needless to say, I quickly turned out of the door again before he could recognise me. Despite a slightly anti-climactic start to my month away, I developed a fondness for the Spanish capital in no time. Madrid is a city humming with the energy of people, yet nobody is ever in a rush. While the city has much to offer in the way of culture, boasting magnificent art galleries, much of Madrid’s charm is to be found in its public spaces; one of my favourites was El Parque de las 7 Tetas, the name literally translating into The Seven Boobs Park. Located just outside Madrid’s inner quarters, it is a mountainous green space composed of seven grassy peaks (‘boobs’), on which locals gather to watch the sun go down over the city. Madrid’s energy doesn’t die down after sunset either. Rather, its streets buzz until late into the following morning. As Ernest Hemmingway put it, ‘nobody goes to bed in Madrid until they have killed the night’. It was with a heavy heart that I left Madrid that August, taking with me with more than just improved language skills (I can’t, however, claim improved DIY expertise). Travelling alone really pushes you to act independently, both in the sense that it forces you to initiate new friendships, while also allowing you to grow assured and comfortable in your own company. There is something special in discovering an unknown place alone, and it is an experience I would recommend to all. Alice is a SS Spanish student and loves getting lost in new cities.