Tag Archive for 'France'

A casual chat with a media industry insider

Today I had the chance of picking the mind of Achilles from the International Herald Tribune, who last year was appointed Vice-President, circulation and development. Achilles is a family friend and I took the opportunity to talk to him about the world of media and the challenges being faced.

The IHT is one of the three daily financial newspapers of the world, along with the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times. It is currently owned by the New York Times, and has a global circulation of 240,000 people. I had a great chat on a lot of different themes which could have me blog about for a week straight, but here are some of the facts I picked up from our discussion, which I will summarise below as future talking points:

  • On Murdoch’s acquisition of the Wall Street Journal: “very interested to see if he will remove the paid wall”.
  • The IHT experiemented with a paid wall for it’s opinion content, but they will be removing that later this year
  • He says the Bancroft family sold it because they are emotionally detached from the product. It was just an asset to them.
  • A lot of the content is simply reedited content from the NYT and internationalising it. For example, replacing sentences like “Kazakhstan in the size of New York state” doesn’t work well for an international reader who has no idea how big New York state is.
  • On the threat of citizen journalism with traditional media: “they are a competitive threat because we are competing for the same scarce resource: the attention of readers”
  • The problem with citizen journalism and bloggers is the validity of their information – behind a newspapers brand, is trust from readers of the large amounts of research and factchecking that occur. They have no credibility.
  • A blog may develop credibility with an audience greater than the New York Times. But this poses problems for advertising as advertisers might only advertise because of its niche audience. Blogs are spreading the advertising dollars, which is hurting everyone – it’s become decentralised and that has implications which are problematic.
  • The IHT’s circulation is spread thinly across the world. For example, it has 30,000 readers in France and six in Mauritius.
  • Their target market is largely the business traveller, which has its own unique benefits and problems. For example, a business traveler will read it for two days but when they get back home, they will revert to their normal daily newspaper. It’s not a very loyal reader.
  • Readership is a more important concept than circulation as it tells advertisers how big the actual audience of a publication is. For example, the average newspaper has 2.7 readers per copy. However due to the nature of the IHT’s readers, despite having high circulation, they have low readership.
  • IHT is in a unique position of relying on circulation revenue more than advertising. For example, a normal daily relies on circulation revenue as 20% of its total revenue; the IHT counts on it for 50%.
  • It’s hard to get advertising because a readership of university professors is less desirable than fund managers that might read the WSJ. Advertisers prefer to target key decision makers.
  • It doesn’t rely on classifieds as a revenue source – a key thing hurting the newspaper industry currently.
  • Although they place more reliance on circulation revenue, they still get some good advertising opportunities as a lot of readers are politicians and government decision makers.
  • They get a lot of advertising for fashion
  • Psychographic data is more important to advertisers than circulation and it shows what type of readership a publication has.

Nagging wife countries

Salut!

I’ve just spent the last two weeks visiting my sisters and traveling through Western Europe – the countries I have desperately wanted to avoid on this trip of mine. I call them the nagging wife countries, because I know that one day, I will be back visiting these countries when I am older, richer, and with a nagging wife. Hence me wanting to spend the least amount of time here.

So what are the nagging wife destinations? I spent a few days in London, visiting my two sisters, and seeing my new baby nephew. I left a few days before the bombs thankfully, and arrived in Amsterdam on the 4th of July. I spent three nights there, followed by a night in Rotterdam. I then moved onto Belgium – two nights in Brugge and one night in Brussels, followed by a night in Luxembourg and four nights in Paris. I leave tonight for Barcelona with my former workmate Max from Sydney, whom I have been hanging out with in Paris these last few nights.

I won’t talk about London because apart from a few typical tourist pictures and a gay pride march I stumbled on (absolutely hilarious) I didn’t do anything in London. The only noteworthy event was how much of a bitch the immigration lady was! Well, I suppose I deserved it. Basically, I arrived in London with 10 pounds in my wallet, no bank statements to prove I had money, no return ticket to Australia, and no outgoing pass to prove I was leaving the UK any time soon. The interrogation was just short of me getting in the nude and having a cavity search! In 20 minutes, the immigration lady learnt more about my sisters, myself and my trip than a girl would find out on the first month of dating! I managed to convince her to let me in the country, but only on a one month visa rather than the usual six months. When she said that, I said good because I didn’t want to spend more than a week in her bloody country. That did not go down well either.

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Amsterdam was quite entertaining. The city was not just flooded with tourists in the every-damn-type-you-can-find, but with American college students, stoned off their face. Watching people thinking out loud, on how to find their way home, should be listed as a tourist attraction. The smell of camel shit was omnipresent, and Amsterdam as an attraction, isn’t anything special. Sure you have the “coffee” houses, the prostitutes in the windows, the live sex shows, the sex museum, and Anne Franks house.

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Oh, and there are a shit load of bikes.
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But once you see all that, that’s about it. Contrast that with Rotterdam, a major city in the south of The Netherlands. The city was bombed during WWII, and so everything had to be rebuilt from scratch. So as you can imagine, the architecture is super modern. Words don’t describe it- just check out the pictures! (But don’t confuse it with Brussels, which also had some funky buildings).

Old harbour

Whilst I was in Serbia, I met this Dutch guy, and he said if I ever come to the Netherlands, to give him a buzz and he would put me up for a night. And that I did! Bas is a top bloke to hang out with, but he also is an important person: he is doing the testing on the back wings of that giant new Airbus plane (A380). So if you ever hear of an A380 falling out of the sky, blame Bas! And blame me for having a big night out with him the night before he did some testing! Bas wrote a nice lttle summary of what I did with him, which you can read here.

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Bas and I have this common interest, or rather obsession, over Serbian women. So naturally, part of our conversations were about women, and how unattractive they are in this part of the world rather than in that other part of the world. What Bas says about The Netherlands is exactly what I say about Australian women. As Bas said, sometimes he can’t tell the difference between a man and a woman on the street! Readers of my blog will notice I constantly talk about the women I see on my travels. Well I make no apologies for that. Blame the cave man in me. But secondly, I find it fascinating to see how the crux of our civilisation – relationships between men and women – are so different in these different cultures and have such a huge affect on society in general.

Bas also reckons the Euro had a large impact on the Dutch ‘no’ to the European constitution. The problem was threefold. First of all, just like in all of Europe, the changing of prices was just rude. For example in Greece, a newspaper cost 100 Drachmas. One Euro was valued at 350 Drachmas. But that newspaper was valued at one euro, or 100 cents. Everyone just did rude maths for simplicity. Secondly, shopkeepers raised their prices just before the introduction of the Euro, which the Dutch are hell annoyed. But even worse, is now that the Finance minister has just confirmed that when the Dutch currency, the Guilder, was replaced by the Euro on Jan 1 2003, the exchange rate probably undervalued the Guilder’s true strength by between five and 10 per cent.

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I left Bas for Brussels, but there was no accomodation. So I caught a one-hour train to Brugge, because they had a room and my little sister reckoned it was cool. I wouldn’t call it cool, but it was nice. As well as another three-million tourists. Brugge is described as a classic medieval city suspended in time. Now don’t get me wrong, there are some pretty churches and rabid dogs on the street, which make me feel like I am back in the 1700s (because we all remember those good all days). But seriously, how did they manage to con three million people?

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I went to one church built by some dude that worked in government, and did a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and came back hoping to recreate the big one in Jerusalem. The whole church was filled with his family ensigna, and tombs to his family and whatever. Now, I love narcissism, and feel so relieved to see some corrupt government official build a church which makes me want to worship him, when in fact he was caught out with a hooker and he was bribed into building a church so that things would be kept mum. But honestly, why do three million people seem to buy this bullshit as so special? Maybe I needed a nagging wife to appreciate it.

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Brussels was cool.

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I was expecting a boring city, but the tourist area and the main part of town was extremely vibrant. The day after I went to Luxembourg, with a German kid who was bored shitless in Brussels. The hostel was booked out, and to cut a long story short, I ended up staying at a house of 17 year old girls having a slumber/camping party. And at the party, I met these guys my age, and I went to a special event techno party, dancing with sexy Luxembourgish girls, and spending way too much money. I crashed the night at one of the guys I partied with, and then came to Paris, to be greeted by Max.

Paris is apparently the third most expensive city in the world (after Tokyo and Oslo). And damn it shows – a bottle of coke at this shitty cafe-restaurant outside our hostel cost 4.50 Euros! At the same time, nothing can be compared to Paris – it is the most amazing city I have ever been to, and you need months to explore the place. You turn the corner, and see this building decorated in stone in the most intricate detail that you wonder how they could have ever achived that. And thats just some random building on the corner. Then check out the one next to it!

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Did all the main tourist sights, and had a big night for for Bastille day. Even bumped into three kids from my school days – David Beamen, Jill Davidson, and Pip Johnson. And separately, met up with Aaron Rathmell. Went to Versailles for a day,and just spent half a day lazing in the gardens which were amazing.

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Paris was described by a girl I met as a very sexual city, and I totally agree with that. Crazy vibe. But I am dying of heat right now, so I will end this post, promising more interesting posts once I start my Eastern Europe trip.

Gallipoli

Humanity. Identity. And youth. Those were the three unspoken themes that permeated the atmosphere at Gallipoli, the site at which 90 years earlier, soldiers from Australia, New Zealand, France, Britain and Turkey fought in a battle that lasted nine months but would forever haunt the site. Militarily, this battle brought bloodshed on all sides. Culturally, however, it would come to define the modern Australian and Turkish states ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú creating a legend that would affect us to this day.

Background

Even in ancient times, Byzantium was a very influential city. It controlled trade and shipping that would pass from the Black Sea and Anatolia, to the Mediterranean ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the junction that connected Europe to the Silk Road. So strategically important was its position, that the Roman emperor Constantine moved the capital of the Roman Empire there in 325 AD ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú where it ruled the world supreme for a thousand years. In 1453, the Ottoman?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s finally invaded the impregnable city with a new technology ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú canon fire ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú and made the since renamed city ?¢‚ǨÀúConstantinople?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ the capital of her vast empire.

In 1914, the Ottoman Empire ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú now on its last legs ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú had joined the Germans in the First World War. Constantinople, like it has always been, was a strategically important city. To capture it meant that the Allied armies could eliminate the Ottoman?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s from the war, as well as control the key black sea trading route ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú ensuring a starved Russia could get supplies and support, as the Western side of her belly was cut off by the Germans. The Gallipoli peninsula led into Constantinople, and if the Allies could capture the Peninsula, they could make their way up to Constantinople and achieve their objective. The outcome of this battle had huge ramifications for all the sides fighting, as it could have broken the stalemate on the western front.

Kamal Attaturk was the commander in charge of the Ottoman army at the Gallipoli peninsula. His success in defending his homeland, made him a national hero, and no doubt played an important factor in him becoming Turkey?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s first President in 1927 ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú whereby he oversaw the remnants of the Ottoman Empire in Anatolia modernised and completely revitalised into the powerful country we see today.

Of the Australian and New Zealand forces fighting there, the battle has became a symbol that defined two young nations, as up until then, their colonial past was the only identity that they had. They were known as the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and the acronym to those words has come to represent a commemoration for fallen heroes; and for Australia, the uniqueness of her culture and people.

Ninety years later ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the memorial ceremonies
The memorial consisted of three parts. The first part was the Dawn Service, which started at 4am. Later in the morning, the Lone Pine Service was held, to commemorate the Australian troops ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú as five of the seven Victorian crosses awarded were due to acts performed at this site. And afterwards, the New Zealander?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s held their service at Chanuuk Bar, which was the highest ground reached by the Anzac?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s.

The Dawn Service was held in an area called North Beach, which was just above Anzac cove. The area was held in a space the equivalent of a football field. The crude estimate that 14,000 people were there was based on the assumption two people could fit in each square metre. A lady who was handing out programmes, said that of the 19,000 printed, 17,000 had already been handed out at 12am ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú when not even three-quarters of the attendants had arrived. Add to the fact that there were literally thousands of young Turkish people swarming in the masses – it would not be unreasonable to say that 20-25,000 attended this year?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s service.

A local Turkish girl teased me, because she had one layer of clothing and was fine. I on the other hand had three layers, and was numb, shaking and could only concentrate on breathing and keeping warm from the winds, which made the five-degree Celsius climate feel like minus five. As someone who had only recently come from Australia?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s March climate, to experience Turkey?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s April chill, I stood perplexed at how men my age and younger – a military historian claims to have discovered a soldier aged 14 and nine-months – had to jump out of boats into the water and onto these fields. And then dig a hole, where they had to eat, shit and fight out of for the nine-months that followed.

The ceremony itself was nice. It probably would have been more enjoyable had we not been in the cold for so long. Nevertheless the light show, which was to simulate the sun-rise as the Anzac?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s landed on the shore, was quite spectacular. The rugged and steep hill behind us and which was 100 metres from the shore – simultaneously lit up in portions, as a flashing multi-coloured light projected from a corner near the water on our front left. It was dark, but there was also a full-moon which gave the shore an eerie feel. The lightshow against a backdrop of darkness was surreal; and the deathly quiet during the show, with the speaker system booming the voice of the narrator, definitely made an impression to those there.

After the Dawn Service, most people climbed the hills to Lone Pine. It was here that everyone who attended would agree was the highlight of the experience. Sitting in what was like a mini stadium ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the 4,000 seats were full, and the ground was covered with people. John Howard, the Prime Minister, made an early arrival and did his rounds through the crowds. He was greeted with a standing ovation and cheering ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú which he lapped up every moment off. However when the same treatment was bestowed on Kim Beazley ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the opposition leader ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú he may had realised that it was more larrikinism than respect when he heard those cheers.

After five false starts, a Mexican wave did a complete loop, including the armed service band, whom dropped there instruments to give a very precise and uniform wave. However what had me startled was that it would not stop. Every few minutes, I would notice the stand directly opposite me stand up, again, and after the wave had passed me six times, I started to wonder if it would ever end. It did, but that?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s only because we were busy asking all the dignitaries to give us a wave, which would have a stand erupt in cheering and laughter when they did

Dignitaries were plenty. From Australia, we had the Prime Minister, Opposition leader and quite a few members of the Federal Cabinet. Victoria?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s and Tasmania?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s premiers were present, and Prince ?¢‚Ǩ?ìChucky?¢‚Ǩ? Charles was in attendance (but no Camilla). Top military brass from Australia, New Zealand, Germany, the UK, Turkey, France and I am sure a few more filled the official chairs. In fact, some many ?¢‚ǨÀúdignitaries?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ came, that they ran out of official chairs ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú much like how the entire day panned out ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú a gross underestimation of the amount of people that would come.

An interesting observation was how Australian democracy was being represented overseas. When the Prime Minister gave the speech at the Dawn Service, it was the opposition leader that was to lay the wreath for Australia. Our ?¢‚ǨÀúhead of state?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢, represented by chucky, had no role of importance other than a token prayer (and only at the Dawn Service). The Australian head of state ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the Governor-General, with the current holder of the office also a former military officer ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú was nowhere to be seen.

It became evident that the things Howard spoke about, and by the way the ceremony was organised, that he was doing more than just a memorial service ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú but was trying to shape an Australian psyche. He laboured to have us acknowledge sacrifice, mateship and courage as Australian virtues?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú but he had no trouble having us understand larrikinism, as was evident with the master of ceremonies repeatedly having trouble controlling the crowd.

The Service at Chanuuk Bar was a long walk up, which was a sobering experience to see how the New Zealand troops were able to get so far. Whilst I did not attend the service, people reflected that it was not as good. The noise generated by the Turkish children passing by to their buses, as nearby they were celebrating their own ?¢‚Ǩ?ìVictory?¢‚Ǩ? of the battle, made it apparently difficult to enjoy the moment

Overall Observations
The thing that struck everyone who attended, were the amount of young people present. Most of the crowds were Australians based in London on working holidays or GAP-year students working somewhere in Europe. An older contingent of retirees made their presence felt, and it seemed that for all except the tour-guides, it was a first-time experience. Nearly all that I spoke to wouldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t have come to Turkey had it not been for the 90th celebration. Although everyone also said, they would definitely be back again.

Another thing that struck us as strange were the amount of Turkish people there. In recent years, the battle has raised in national importance in Turkey ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú and questions are being raised by the younger generation as to the amount that died (there is no Turkish burial site). There were boys and girls there from all over Turkey. Some where there just to see what the fuss was about. Pretty much all of the young Turkish men there, came because they think Australian women are easy to pick up. Whilst it annoyed me and I am sure other people how the Turks in attendance didn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t show much respect by keeping quiet and stationary during the Dawn Service, it was startling to see so many other young Turkish children on the walk up to Chanuuk Bar. Even nicer was the warmth both nations showed each other in their interactions, a thing confirmed to me in Istanbul where all the shopkeepers who realised I was Australian, would tell me how much they liked Australians. Sure they were trying to sell me something, but they seemed genuinely respectful.

Australian poets and songwriters have long lamented that when the last ANZAC would die, the importance of the day would be lost in history. The last Australian ANZAC has died, however I wish that some of those artists could have been there, as they would realise a fresh generation of young Australians would carry the tradition on ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú although for different reasons. Being surrounded by so many Australians, in a foreign continent where some had not heard an Aussie accent since they were in Australia, gave everyone a warmth. However being in a crowd of Aussies, laughing and cheering together, and nodding our heads at things that the Turkish tour guides didn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t understand, did something else. It made you feel like an Australian. And it made you feel glad you were one.