Memo on potential topics for Berlin Reporting– In Syria, coffee is not just a drink, its a connection to the culture, language, and land. Strong Arabic coffee brewed with cardamom is offered to guests as a sign of welcome, poured at weddings and funerals, and shared over conversations that stretch late into the night. It is a deeply rooted social ritual that is centered on hospitality and conversation. Over the past decade, this culture of Ahweh, traditional brew, has taken root in Berlin. Along Sonnenallee in Neukölln, often called the city’s “Arab Street,” Syrian cafés, bakeries, and sweet shops opened and staffed by refugees have transformed the neighborhood into a lively hub, rich in Middle Eastern identity and Arabic signage. For many Syrians, these cafés serve as living rooms, or third spaces, away from home and work: places to speak Arabic, follow news from Damascus or Aleppo, find work, and feel a sense of belonging.
I want to report on what these cafés mean to the Syrian community now, at a moment of profound uncertainty. When Assad fell in December 2024, Sonnenallee was filled with celebrations, but Germany’s response has made the future far less clear with a rise in anti-migration rhetoric and the AfD has called for Syrians to return home. For café owners who built businesses from nothing, the question of whether to stay, return, or try to live between two countries is no longer hypothetical. With food and drink often being a bridge between identities and diverse communities, I am interested in studying how these cafes have become a third space providing refugees employment and relevant information for support networks in the surrounding area.
I would structure my reporting around this particular third space, which has been a defining feature of the Syrian community in Berlin. I hope to conduct my research in a traditional coffee house, where elders gather and where owners may import cardamom and coffee blends that recreate the taste of home. The second is a family-run sweet shop or bakery, where Syrian pastries and coffee have become popular with Germans and other Berliners, showing how Syrian culture has become part of the city itself. My guiding questions are: Since Assad’s fall, are café owners and regulars thinking about returning to Syria? How has the political debate in Germany changed the atmosphere in these spaces, or how others see them? And what would Berlin lose if these businesses and the people who run them left?
These cafés also exist in a charged political context. I want to better understand whether Syrian café owners feel welcomed as part of the city or viewed with suspicion, and how that shapes their decisions about the future. Before the trip, I plan to identify cafés along Sonnenallee and in other Berlin neighborhoods with large Syrian communities, and reach out to owners through social media and community organizations. I will also contact Syrian community groups and Arabic-speaking Princeton connections who may have contacts in Berlin to gain translation assistance for my interviews. Since many older owners and regulars may speak primarily Arabic, I will arrange for a translator or bilingual guide where needed.
The larger story may be about how a community that arrived seeking refuge has made itself part of a city, one cup of coffee at a time, and what happens when the country around it begins to question whether it belongs. Once in Berlin, I will remain open to stronger stories that emerge from conversations on the ground.
