I, tazler

Yesterday, having wrapped up three months as a guest reporter at Der Spiegel, I moved down the street to the tageszeitung, better known as the taz. The paper — and yes, it is too cool for a capitalized name — has a reputation as a witty, edgy, lefty rag. It’s a cooperative, owned by over 10,000 paying members, with some funky staffers, including a middle-aged man who hasn’t worn socks or shoes for decades. And in a German media industry dominated by men, the taz charter specifies that at least half the staff, including the top editor, must be female.

But lest you mistake the taz for an agenda-feeding hippie haven, it’s one of the most respected daily papers in the country, with lots of brilliant reporters and editors (and a great cafe with half-price for tazlers, to boot).

Anyway, I started there yesterday, and today I wrote my first-ever story in German. It’s just a little thing, culled mostly from a report that came out today. But for any German speakers out there: have a look.


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