call box

Locals, in Cheltenham just three kilometers from the GCHQ campus, believe that guerrilla graffiti
artist Banksy may have been behind this mural of authorities wiring tapping this phone booth. Area residents are delighted and the artwork has become a big tourist attraction.

kleinstaaterei

With the level of public will or involvement remaining unclear and the source of dissent an elusive factor—strange to consider in the first place that regions are careening towards the right to assert their independence with only the ultimate goal being to align themselves with another power in sight, the cities of Ukraine, though under the microscope and garnering much attention, do tend to be overlooked, imagined out of context, scale or compartmentalised.  Much is being said about psyche and exceptionalism, the economic importance of the industrial eastern part of the country, the need for stability and security thereof with also quite a bit of name-calling, like the US styling of counter insurgency efforts by the government in Kyiv as anti-terror operations or pledges to shore up debts, but there is little in terms, I think, in terms of profiles for these metropolitan cities, which have their own character and history.

Donetsk grew out of factory workers’ dormitories built by a steel and coal magnate from Wales named John James Hughes in 1869 (strangely, not long after hostilities ended), while under commission for the Russian Imperial Navy.  The settlement was originally named Hughesovka in honour of the Welch industrialist, who was a genius although functionally illiterate and could not read minuscule letters—Юз, yuz being the closest approximate sound.  Staffed with skilled and well-educated workers, the metalworks soon grew self-sufficient and with the Bolshevik revolution, the city’s name changed several times.  It seems hard for a boom town—especially one that has never gone bust, just like so many in this region, that is relatively young as well, to establish for itself an identity—and I am sure being known, by turns, as Yuzovka, Trotsk, Stalino and then after a tributary of the Don river, may have not helped with cohesion.  Looking on from outside, I am astounded by the vast swaths of land that continue to defy recognition and know there’s much unknown out there, aided and hindered by the tough schooling in geography that conflict teaches—since, although this rust belt (Donetsk incidentally won international recognition as the cleanest factory town in the world, in 1970) is emerging as the focus of attention, having of course existed all along (or at least since its founding, not all that long ago) and having existed as an independent entity even under Soviet auspices but it was easier to understand the map as a bloc, it is also a struggle to follow along with the series of contentions and we become prone to perfunctory judgments.

legend

If you travel as much as we do, you might find yourselves outgrowing the standard quiver of icons that come with Google Maps. Adding to the compliment is easy and I have re-coloured the map markers for many future adventurers, distinguished by the broadening palette. Though they are not the sharpest tacks, please feel free to use them (clicking on each icon as the source image for the symbol on your personalised map) or create your own cartographic legend. Keep in mind the parameters for the standard icons are 32 by 32 pixels and use a imaging-program that retains the transparency for portable network graphics (.PNG) format files.

dii consentes

The funny and clever site College Humor has created a pantheon of gods and goddess that patronise different spheres of internet activity. This list is pretty good and surely you've encountered all these deities embodied in some form or another. What other olympians or minor gods in residence (Ganymede, Cupid or Momus, the god of satire and mockery—Iris, the personification of the rainbow) would you include as internet titans?

timeliness, objectivity, narrative

We all would instantly recognize the iconic and candid images of photojournalist Alfred Eisenstaedt, and know them just by a caption of a few words, limning in the rest—but before Kottke shared this spontaneously happy picture, I did not realise who it was on the other side of the shutter, much less appreciate that the litany of celebrated pictures were courtesy of the same individual. Eisenstaedt had a definite excelling talent for finding himself in the right place at the right time, as well for framing a subject, and captured such unforgettable subjects for Life magazine as the couple kissing in Times Square for Victory over Japan Day, Albert Einstein, Sophia Loren, Marilyn Monroe, Ernest Hemingway, Joseph Goebbels at the League of Nations (as we know them) and the ice-skating waiters of St. Moritz.

saargebiet oder neutral moresnet

Prior to the treaties and terms that were drawn up at the conclusion of the World Wars, the German state of Saarland had no cohesive identity and did not exist as an administrative division, until after WWI, French forces governed the area as a protectorate, the resource-rich region having historic connections to both countries and, like neighbouring Alsace, dominated by each power at different times over the centuries. The goal of long term occupation was that France could recover from the industrial ravages of the Great War and prevent Germany's rearmament through the coal and mineral deposits in this land. With the end of the following war, Saarland once again became a French protectorate with the surrender and when German territory was divided amongst the Allied Forces, which was not reunited with the rest of Western Germany until 1957 with what is referred to as die Kleine Wiedervereinigung. The French also had designs on another region, to the north, the heavily industrial and more resource-rich lands of the Ruhr Valley (Ruhrgebiet) of North-Rhine Westphalia.
French negotiators felt that the Ruhrgebiet should either be managed like the Saar Protectorate or be created as a separate condominium state—like the singular case of Andorra, ruled by two co-princes, the president of France and the Spanish bishop of Urgell, or the strange compromise reached a century earlier in the sliver of land called Neutral Moresnet (Esperanto was also the official language of this tiny country), which was a shared responsibility between the Kingdoms of Prussia and Belgium. A zinc mine, the region's only significant source, was located here and the committee that redrew the map after the last spate of warring wanted to ensure that no one country could monopolise the supply. American and British representatives, however, felt that France's demands went too far and taking away the country's industrial-base would make rebuilding the war-torn land impossible. Concessions were arrived at, however, and in exchange for being able to re-establish itself as an independent federal republic, West Germany agreed to pool its coal and steel resources with the rest of Europe and impose quotas on how much it could use domestically.