tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77228741322579220132024-02-19T14:02:28.713+03:00Everything MoscowBenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-33362690463670764732013-10-20T15:22:00.000+04:002013-10-20T15:22:09.785+04:00Glorious Taxi Driver Face-Off!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've recently returned from a short trip to South Korea, having attended a
friend's wedding in his home port city of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Busan" target="_blank">Busan</a>, bringing my Asian travel log
to an astounding two trips (<a href="http://everythingmoscow.blogspot.ru/2010/01/one-night-in-shanghai.html" target="_blank">the first being Shanghai a few Decembers ago</a>).
Disregarding the fact I barely experienced China the last time and how short
this trip to Korea was, we're still on the Internet and I am still clearly capable
of passing sweeping judgments on entire nations. Unfortunately, this is mostly
meant to be about Russia, so... hum... what do these two countries have in
common? Taxis. Boy are there a lot of taxis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nowgamer.com/siteimage/scale/0/0/258291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.nowgamer.com/siteimage/scale/0/0/258291.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And no they aren't as much fun as this.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One thing about South Korean society is - and feel free to correct me on this because this is based on second-hand knowledge - that there's apparently a
sort of quasi-institutionally forced retirement, wherein anyone
over the age of 62 with a normal job (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">whatever that is) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is immediately pensioned off
whether they want to or not. Unfortunately, as you might expect, the pension is
- to coin a phrase an old flatmate used to say frequently in a thick
Catalan accent - "nothing to write home about". Subsequently, a lot
of elderly South Koreans either start up their own storefronts selling just
about anything and everything or - as commonly seen in a lot of Russian towns
that aren't Moscow - become taxi drivers. However, in the latter case this
isn't restricted to the elderly; my own pet theory is that the surprisingly
large number of taxi companies in places such as </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekaterinburg" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Ekaterinburg </a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">has more to do
with, as with many things in Russia, the post-soviet collapse of various
industries i.e. for those reading in Glasgow "there's nae jobs,
pally".</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/42130000/jpg/_42130884_buckfast_close_203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/42130000/jpg/_42130884_buckfast_close_203.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SCOTTISH IN-JOKE.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In one respect I'm kind of glad I was woefully unprepared for
this trip - at least with Barcelona and Buenos Aires I put in some time learning
the lingo - because there is a lot of what could be called information
"noise" the moment you get off the plane in Seoul’s Incheon Airport.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ13RlNYwnJfVeJm-R00jQuWSQOaoamrLn8Q2qwtzP4nKwQA_g6bqvciCCfeIaRzcnLL1SsdiecbwKSJqjlgpdVOvjB0VQx4BRwX1tU5ZCWZNlXaTxI0aC-aLbA5RaRu26RSltdYTK7ag/s1600/085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ13RlNYwnJfVeJm-R00jQuWSQOaoamrLn8Q2qwtzP4nKwQA_g6bqvciCCfeIaRzcnLL1SsdiecbwKSJqjlgpdVOvjB0VQx4BRwX1tU5ZCWZNlXaTxI0aC-aLbA5RaRu26RSltdYTK7ag/s320/085.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...whereas Barcelona was flat out gay the moment you get off the plane</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously, bar perhaps pavements, there is so much crap
plastered over any available surface on the streets of the Korean capital which completely</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ignore the concept of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Negative_space" target="_blank">negative space</a> maybe because it's wasting potential revenue</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Forgive the bad lighting on the following picture taken with an iPhone (click to enlarge) but hopefully you get the idea.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJYN_4bDHyp_ZHEOqAI6ggRuvi2vEItGRe1WL3qxSu0oQhP0Oeyquxm8is1J2an23khteKg9Epri3ORlTT8zz9CCGIqIrvtnPhXk4NpsRa0fIuIZDL7i14JJLg8cfinP4xXxoPMwE8YU/s1600/347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJYN_4bDHyp_ZHEOqAI6ggRuvi2vEItGRe1WL3qxSu0oQhP0Oeyquxm8is1J2an23khteKg9Epri3ORlTT8zz9CCGIqIrvtnPhXk4NpsRa0fIuIZDL7i14JJLg8cfinP4xXxoPMwE8YU/s320/347.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">WHAT IS ANY OF THIS</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Regardless, with enough badly-translated <a href="http://www.engrish.com/" target="_blank"><i>Eng-uh-rish</i> signs</a>, free wifi, menus with pictures on them, and an above average level of education among locals means that most ignorant foreigners such as myself can eventually brute force their way to their destination without starving to death. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm hesitant to continue this entry as it seems we're on a bit of a low note, something I try to avoid in posting anything on the Internet, but there was a surprising point during my two weeks off where I was actually </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">missing</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the chaos of Moscow. Why?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGjr9t8YoQDAJVYhm8b_hvTToj6pnMUwxJ3z_qEHXhcJ1e_2SSrR9RnLjAQXwkcV1-LsgY7m_n38TXfe3wTltou_RiPPmNhUxuia4ZpSRsdh4n82LdL1BusBInGUCjGlc1U_mP5BL5MU/s1600/question+mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGjr9t8YoQDAJVYhm8b_hvTToj6pnMUwxJ3z_qEHXhcJ1e_2SSrR9RnLjAQXwkcV1-LsgY7m_n38TXfe3wTltou_RiPPmNhUxuia4ZpSRsdh4n82LdL1BusBInGUCjGlc1U_mP5BL5MU/s1600/question+mark.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To use a video game analogy, imagine </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">mixing some awful user-created Duke Nukem 3D level and at the same time </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hitting the "random terrain"
button from Sim City 2000's map generator. With the former, assets tend to be thrown in haphazardly. Comparing that to Korea, we see that most
businesses will pretty much display all their wares right up front. At the same time poor design rears its head in various ways like common conveniences such as waste bins being completely absent on the streets. Astute followers of </span><a href="http://instagram.com/dudeglove/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">my instagram feed</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> will notice that, yes, there are waste bins to be found in places such as train stations, but even then they're rare and </span><a href="http://thedailykimchi.blogspot.ru/2006/08/koreas-amazing-recycling-initiative.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">geared towards recycling</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdBYsIO3LY6B-2Cl-VVuoj1IBBMDaYJgER8l-NKRpcESgFsu3yyUuBcRdKY39FqgAIseLRjxluFXsifz-mTih7fiWAXjdsY4PcaRTNgb3I-zRWM-FkClWQ4W20_s8Pt4mkl7l0639_ac/s1600/331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdBYsIO3LY6B-2Cl-VVuoj1IBBMDaYJgER8l-NKRpcESgFsu3yyUuBcRdKY39FqgAIseLRjxluFXsifz-mTih7fiWAXjdsY4PcaRTNgb3I-zRWM-FkClWQ4W20_s8Pt4mkl7l0639_ac/s320/331.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PET?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The reason for this is that the Korean government </span><a href="http://thedailykimchi.blogspot.ru/2007/06/where-are-garbage-cans-in-seoul.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">developed a new garbage disposal system back in 1995</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, aimed at curbing waste. Lifting a quote from the previous link:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The new system was found to have decreased the nation's waste by almost 20 percent in a decade, according to the Ministry of Environment. The amount of garbage per person fell to 0.95 kilograms per day last year in Korea, meeting the standards of developed countries. The figure was 2.3 kilograms per person per day in 1994, when South Korea had loose regulations on waste management.</b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Makes sense, given the hyper-industrious tendencies of the nation, but then another problem emerged and maybe this official amount of garbage per person per day is, well, garbage. How was the new level of waste accounted for? Only by the amounts that are picked up by municipal services from designated areas? That's not a good metric. It's fine and dandy introducing recycling, but given the amount of vending machines, fast food and 7-11s strewn across Seoul, you're probably already guessing<a href="http://anageonism.wordpress.com/2012/05/22/lost-garbage-bin/" target="_blank"> what a deficit in waste cans leads to</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should probably post a picture of those weird vending machines you always hear about? Here's one in a park.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimexrkXvuTzwKKfbklJmwvDqdbWycQdpss29HyJjQck5aHvb1zHg9A8lVScOorQ7P3OzwUY0-R_s42bM4M-pw5y6Tfdl94puUlH8-RYVLUjhLSRuNOsCfiSH4ndBku98IBJUA3Ns4mozg/s1600/165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimexrkXvuTzwKKfbklJmwvDqdbWycQdpss29HyJjQck5aHvb1zHg9A8lVScOorQ7P3OzwUY0-R_s42bM4M-pw5y6Tfdl94puUlH8-RYVLUjhLSRuNOsCfiSH4ndBku98IBJUA3Ns4mozg/s320/165.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And usually a garbage can would be planted beside them, but nope</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The garbage issue doesn't just affect the streets either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Seoul city faced further criticism from citizens in 2005 for abolishing 780 trashcans in 263 subway stations. The city removed all the trashcans on the platforms, only leaving the ones near the ticket windows.</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So not exactly something I'd consider ideal, and in comparison to Russia, I've never had much trouble disposing of waste here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the same time, continuing Sim City 2000's random terrain idea, The train ride from Seoul to Busan showed me that Korean geography is pretty wild. Roads in both Seoul and Busan seem to nod towards Gaudi’s design philosophy and abhor straight lines. An answer to the question as to why the terrain hadn't been completely leveled for the sake of straight roads and uniformity escaped me, but it did make me wonder how much a challenge civil engineers face in South Korea. In addition, buildings are - how to put it?
- "tiny big" or maybe "big tiny".</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kCDFaQh_7vpBlkCYRKlJCgWQAoJLdpNoTUw_9Bz3R2N2ydayREvVesiim2qZB8wX7unJcVGh91zaA-Fwhv4C0N7EhvhsKlLZBeFAm4OG-zLANymAbu6IWmqQBZJruHBvVzs3jXsBsAM/s1600/274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kCDFaQh_7vpBlkCYRKlJCgWQAoJLdpNoTUw_9Bz3R2N2ydayREvVesiim2qZB8wX7unJcVGh91zaA-Fwhv4C0N7EhvhsKlLZBeFAm4OG-zLANymAbu6IWmqQBZJruHBvVzs3jXsBsAM/s320/274.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny cars for big kids can, however, be purchased in Busan</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of all things, the tower blocks of Seoul immediately reminded me of one art class
from secondary school. We were asked to draw the outside of a house with a
certain number of floors specifically with large windows and a front door.
Essentially the point to the prepubescent mass of blazer-wearing oiks was to
demonstrate the first-time error of <a href="http://designreboot.blogspot.ru/2010/02/level-design-primer-starting-new-level.html" target="_blank">poorly-established scale</a>, in that despite
seeming okay from the outside, windows are not the whole "floor" and
putting them too close together vertically implies that - if you inhabited this
imaginary house on A3-sized paper - you'd be hunched over most of the time
because each floor was only about a meter high due to how close you'd packed
the windows on top of one another. Although I didn’t suffer from any lower back
problems anywhere during my time in Korea, aside from having to periodically
duck here and there (I'm only about 5' 9" in real life) to avoid whacking
my head off signs and trinkets hanging from shop windows and the roofs of food
stalls, from the outside, most "large" buildings at the same time
look extremely dinky here in Korea. It's a hard visual effect to express with
words, but it's certainly there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Were I an architect, I might be able to explain things
better. It's not oppressive, really, it's just that the skyline from what I've
seen is as if someone had previously choked on some colorless Lego bricks
covered with the Korean alphabet and then barfed the contents onto a mountainous landscape. Busan was especially indistinct and didn’t seem to follow any “grand
plan”, and as such may contribute to the point I’m (eventually) getting to. At
least to Moscow's credit, despite its atrocious drivers and quality of roads,
several "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postconstructivism" target="_blank">stalinka</a>" skyscrapers dominate the center’s landscape and,
depending on where you are within the city, you can usually orientate yourself
accordingly within the range of some prominent landmark such as the Soviet
gothic high-rises as well as various ring roads, metro stations and main thoroughfares. This is also seen in places like London, which actually has legal requirements limiting the building of any construction that may potentially
obscure the view of St. Paul’s Cathedral for instance - something known as "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Protected_view" target="_blank">protected view</a>".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back in
Korea, yes, there are certain landmarks I could have probably relied on –
certainly in Seoul. Parks and statues dedicated to various glorious (they’re
always glorious) military figures are dotted around the city. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbh3xsJbwswqL9rRai2uPUZD15jjB0T8hpiKEDFckVo3G65Yu8YMDo8003zWDatL-t-YK_LaiDh8ZZ1SS7MKwAAG-iGaHJG68G-SNoTkoioUMCy7WaHa5V05eF1L4R9yJ9Ntl_m70o9hE/s1600/283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbh3xsJbwswqL9rRai2uPUZD15jjB0T8hpiKEDFckVo3G65Yu8YMDo8003zWDatL-t-YK_LaiDh8ZZ1SS7MKwAAG-iGaHJG68G-SNoTkoioUMCy7WaHa5V05eF1L4R9yJ9Ntl_m70o9hE/s320/283.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Korean admirals enjoy being surrounded by skyscrapers in Busan too</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead I made
the foolish error of having the exact address of certain places typed in Korean
to show to the drivers who are all equipped with advanced GPS devices that,
again with the “information noise” point, stop short of literally screaming
all sorts of real-time info to the driver such as adhering to speed limits, camera locations, traffic density etc.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Consequently, if you recall that the automatic retirement age mentioned earlier, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the overwhelming majority</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of drivers I encountered in both Busan and Seoul were pretty much unable to make full use of their devices.
By full use I mean “physically inputting the address into a device primarily
designed to direct you to your location of choice”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, of
course, hijinks ensued. The following is a bastardized transcript of a
conversation I had in Busan with some taxi drivers. As context, the day before I
had already taxied up and down Busan, a port city which is long and narrow much like
</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volgograd" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Volgograd</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, and my vague awareness knew that we had to go north get on to the main
coastal “Interchange” highway for about 10 kilometers. By the way, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had already hailed down two
drivers prior to this conversation. The first said he wasn't</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> going that
direction because he wanted to go home and eat. The second stared blankly, crossed his arms as if to flatly say “No”. Joy.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>====</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Third taxi pulls up)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>I
need to go here [zooming in showing address on phone in largest font possible].
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi driver
3:</b> [stares blankly through reading glasses]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> [sitting
down, shutting door] Haeundae-gu, yeah? [pointing to navigator and to phone]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(I
believe “-gu” means “area” or “district”, which Busan is split up into a number
of and is where I was roughly going)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 3:</b> …Call friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> [not
sure whether it was a question or a
demand] Umm… Can I use your phone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 3: </b>Uhh… English! Call friend!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Err…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Taxi
driver begins driving <b>south</b>)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUErBNXD8y8T6a__C2acqcipCtOMsp_3tBFWFKVckB3AJQjGjeGKsS5A1odZ7UvYQG4uYovQqTrvzbo1wMvFiHzOZ5l1L1HlJQ_XlZfGjFTzhc0HKol717SDAe_CQhwYxQZrXr_bPsDo/s1600/wrong-way.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUErBNXD8y8T6a__C2acqcipCtOMsp_3tBFWFKVckB3AJQjGjeGKsS5A1odZ7UvYQG4uYovQqTrvzbo1wMvFiHzOZ5l1L1HlJQ_XlZfGjFTzhc0HKol717SDAe_CQhwYxQZrXr_bPsDo/s320/wrong-way.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>Look
[pointing to address]. Haeundae-gu, yeah?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 3:</b> I call friend! English! [starts using his phone]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> What?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(After a
minute or so of conversation with “friend”, and me beginning to quietly fume
knowing full well we should have turned around by now, taxi driver comes to a
halt by non-descript bus stop.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 3: </b>Friend!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b>
[silent rage building] Look, can I use phone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 3:</b> Here! Friend! [taps on shoulder]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(As it
transpires my taxi driver had called <i>another</i>
taxi driver who he claimed could speak English, we both get out and I get into
another taxi)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b>
[opening door] ...English?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 4:</b> Japanese?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> ... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Taxi
driver 3 drives off, having successfully driven me half a kilometer in the wrong direction, I set
about going through same rigmarole of showing address on phone in largest font
possible and then try a different tactic)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Can I
use your phone? Your phone. Please [mimicking with hands]. Call friend? He
speaks Korean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 4:</b> Uh… [hands phone over]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> It’s
okay. [start to dial in international code for Korea which is +82]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi driver
4: </b>[sees number that isn’t something he’s used to] No no no!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:
</b>[impatient] Seriously, it’s fine! Korea number!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Taxi
driver 4 returns to fruitless task of attempting to input exact address into
hyper-advanced screaming navigation device)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Just a
minute please. [phone rings]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(We sit,
motionless, already sat in the wrong area. My friend’s phone is, of course,
engaged, but I persist.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Friend:</b>
[eventually answering the phone in Korean] Hello?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:
</b>[already frustrated] Kostya, it’s me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Friend:</b>
Oh hey! Can I call you back? I’m at the beach with some ladies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> [on
the verge of snapping] No you fucking can’t! This isn't my phone, it belongs to
the taxi driver and it’ll take just a few seconds for you to tell him where to
go, alright?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Friend:</b> Uh…
okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b>
[exasperated] Thank you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Taxi
driver 4:</b> [speaks to friend for about a minute, nodding and tone of voice
indicate that “oh it’s that way”, hands phone back to me]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Friend:</b>
Okay he’s going to take you to the Haeundae Grand Hotel, I’ll see you in the
lobby in ten minutes. *click*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Okay but it’s going
to take a lot longer than ten minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Unfortunately,
Kostya didn’t catch that last part as he had already hung up leading to more
confusion at the hotel, but the main debacle ended here and we set off on a
forty-minute journey through rush hour traffic to probably the largest hotel in
Busan, which sits right on the waterfront and is impossible to miss in spite of
all the other factors I've already mentioned.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">====</b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taxi driver 3’s claims weren't</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> complete bullshit, the “friend” he called did speak a handful of English words, but they were mostly Anglicized Korean words like “kim chi” and “Kim Jong-il”.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Also, d</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">on’t get
me wrong, my trip to Korea wasn't bad at all. The people I met were all extremely welcoming. Shops, hotels and restaurants are more than happy to serve foreigners (unlike another country I might have mentioned several times). </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The quality of seafood and produce is outstanding and not overpriced either.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wandering through parks past groups of schoolchildren usually led to dreadfully cute cries of "hello!" from the kids. Aside from the taxi issue, I can't recall a single moment where I was particularly uncomfortable even after the culture shock wore off. The wedding itself was wonderful and I couldn't be more proud of Hong for finally tying the knot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To cut a long story short, South Korea is well worth visiting and I barely scratched the surface of what there is to do. War nerds will surely get a kick out of checking out the De-Militarized Zone, something I failed to see, but I did see Busan's Korean War memorial on top of a very steep hill.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WYvRUFftYdqtZ7JZrVjdrXOzlh-BM3Y2VNYSIy6KU5Fm_QMa_yDY06oQJf7lCLY70FrCoLm80iqTrFYO_OSpOgXsCg1h11J30J2oeX02ujZfV6GnpK7kPfZynbRTOJNh0v1jq58jnew/s1600/325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WYvRUFftYdqtZ7JZrVjdrXOzlh-BM3Y2VNYSIy6KU5Fm_QMa_yDY06oQJf7lCLY70FrCoLm80iqTrFYO_OSpOgXsCg1h11J30J2oeX02ujZfV6GnpK7kPfZynbRTOJNh0v1jq58jnew/s320/325.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All I'm saying is that, when you're in Korea, it </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">might</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> be better to use the subway.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-82482573622809378762013-05-14T23:49:00.001+04:002013-05-14T23:49:05.813+04:00About Last Night...<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mN0mnHCAcvM" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So last night was the first time I performed a tango dance in front of a crowd of people. Admittedly, just friends and students from the school were in attendance, but still. Enjoy. The song is Francisco Canaro's waltz "Corazon de Oro", which translates as "Heart of Gold" (I think).</div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-8023224079999440702013-05-11T15:54:00.002+04:002013-05-11T15:54:55.187+04:00No Pain, No Gain Pt. 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupX8bg3fpripAOZlY2tzCGvjxhsZrfplgiJS4Zo8BLXDJnyGerIYZDF9LyqeZBnBb5DFk7YXgTJ1W4HCcQyiqqj4k5TksU5C6ccJ_9ykibZH-FkAV7Avs1l-LMtUYgYENTAGNS65DVvTl/s1600/Charles%252520Atlas%25252001.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupX8bg3fpripAOZlY2tzCGvjxhsZrfplgiJS4Zo8BLXDJnyGerIYZDF9LyqeZBnBb5DFk7YXgTJ1W4HCcQyiqqj4k5TksU5C6ccJ_9ykibZH-FkAV7Avs1l-LMtUYgYENTAGNS65DVvTl/s400/Charles%252520Atlas%25252001.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is an expression in Russian - Какая муха тебя укусила (<i>ka-kaya moo-kha tib-ya oo-koo-seal-ah</i>) - which literally translates as "What bug bit you?" but means something closer to "what's the matter with you? or "what bit you on the ass?".</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I <i>wish </i>I knew what had sunk its fangs into me while I was walking around the Moscow Country Club's golf course one evening last summer, because it surely couldn't have been an insect, or букашка (<i>bu-kash-ka</i>). One potential suspect is the слепень (<i>sleh-pen</i>) or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horsefly" target="_blank">horsefly</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Horse_fly_Tabanus_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Horse_fly_Tabanus_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go away</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Getting bitten by a horsefly isn't pleasant. I last encountered these assholes back in Sarapul, my friend's Siberian home town, several years ago. Unlike a mosquito (комар - <i>koh-marr</i>), which just sort of stings a moment after it's long since buggered off, you can actually feel (well I certainly did) these arrogant bastards digging into your flesh. A victim's vengeance can be swift, however, as they don't fly very fast.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nonetheless, it didn't seem as though a horsefly was the culprit, because I ended up feverish that night. A couple of days later I had to go to the doctor's for antibiotics (антибиотики <i>anti-biotiki</i>) as my right hand (правая рука - <i>prah-va-ya roo-ka</i>) ended up swollen to the point where my knuckles were no longer visible. So yeah, don't go anywhere near Russian nature.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Also contributing to last summer's countryside hijinx was a trip out to a place called Ruza. It's roughly a hundred kilometers west of Moscow, and you have to grab a train out to the small town of Tuchkova first before getting a taxi the rest of the way.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQbvJVUWR-E17yF3y8Io0PsmbgCJzRO_feBfyiTJvxOLWjMkawDIDnzJU-Vdc_8dX-Rw8TBSLlHnj6powAUSeauY2eQfnH8zB_FsJk3pP581ylPDK0kQii-eKEWjhMZ6ET7RusvsbSd0/s1600/080.PNG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQbvJVUWR-E17yF3y8Io0PsmbgCJzRO_feBfyiTJvxOLWjMkawDIDnzJU-Vdc_8dX-Rw8TBSLlHnj6powAUSeauY2eQfnH8zB_FsJk3pP581ylPDK0kQii-eKEWjhMZ6ET7RusvsbSd0/s400/080.PNG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Once at Ruza, the local kids summer camp, or лагерь (<i>lah-ger</i>), was hosting a tango marathon called "El Huracan".</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4r1qLnOi6Hc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There some other bloodsuckers decided to feast solely on my feet, which is exactly what you want when you're dancing for three days straight. Regardless, the three days I spent there were marvelous and exactly the kind of weekend I needed. If it's not clear from the previous video, the dancing was all outdoors in a marquee at this summer camp.</div>
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But not content to limit my injuries to mere insect bites, I managed to screw up my left shoulder (левое плечо - <i>leh-vo-ye pleh-cho</i>) briefly. Way back in 2003, I did a magnificent job of yanking my left arm out of its socket (вывих плеча - <i>vy-vikh pleh-cha</i>) with the help of a cartwheeling pratfall on a dry ski slope. For those who live in countries with snow, this is what a dry ski slope looks like.</div>
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Dry ski slopes are a series of hard plastic spikes arranged in a diamond lattice with water sprayed on top, letting you (barely) slide over them. They are also the most miserable things you'll ever see and nothing like proper snow (снег -<i> snyeg</i>). </div>
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Since that time, like Mr. Pringle said, <a href="http://youtu.be/F9U0zn2jIOY" target="_blank">once you pop, you can't stop</a>, because dislocations don't work the same way as broken bones do. In most cases when a bone (кость - <i>kost'</i>) is broken, it grows back stronger, but dislocations don't get that Wolverine luxury. The glenohumeral joint is not load-bearing, which makes it inherently unstable. Get yourself into the right position like, I dunno, tumbling face forward downhill after tripping over a slalom pole and breaking your fall with your left arm, and ta-dah! Your muscles in that arm are now screaming in agony and you're not allowed any morphine until the x-ray is done. To top it all off your muscles are now weaker, increasing the chances of it happening again next time you decide to windmill your arms about.</div>
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I did eventually get surgery, leaving me with an awesome scar, followed by months of physiotherapy <a href="http://everythingmoscow.blogspot.ru/2012/11/no-pain-no-gain-pt-1.html" target="_blank">not unlike in the previous post</a>. Of course, in my idiocy I ended up popping my arm out again a few years later.</div>
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Since then there's been one or two close calls - at tango class of course - but nothing requiring a trip to the hospital with me screaming like a girl. As much fun as it is, I think I'll stop talking about my medical ailments for now.</div>
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<a href="http://instagram.com/dudeglove/" target="_blank">I'm on instagram nowadays</a>. I don't post anything artsy. Mostly posters for shitty bands who - <a href="http://everythingmoscow.blogspot.ru/2010/09/singing-in-rain.html" target="_blank">as mentioned in the U2 concert post</a> a while ago - can only make money nowadays by touring countries who for some baffling reason still have some misplaced nostalgia in them. </div>
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Failing that it's pictures of my neighbor's sweet ride.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI7GGD27B-1-sC5obRKn2xZWC9dVngwHLqLjNMzjtrc4LvVQHQn-N2sJKgKENRw9i7x6uVBv5q-iuiv1Zjkqee-LJGtiphHxSG4AU9LEp6mCvmDRLT5VgldpfykzOsVim2LsrwJ2h78s/s1600/125.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpI7GGD27B-1-sC5obRKn2xZWC9dVngwHLqLjNMzjtrc4LvVQHQn-N2sJKgKENRw9i7x6uVBv5q-iuiv1Zjkqee-LJGtiphHxSG4AU9LEp6mCvmDRLT5VgldpfykzOsVim2LsrwJ2h78s/s320/125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Periodically I end up leaving my umbrella hanging on the handlebars while I unlock the front door and then forget to pick it up again. To date, the umbrella (зонтик - <i>zon-tick</i>) has still not been stolen away from me those nights I've forgotten about it, which only goes to show how bad ass his bike is.</div>
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Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-51965606876162712342012-12-12T12:51:00.000+04:002012-12-12T12:56:02.203+04:00Let's Dance<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not me, I'm afraid.</td></tr>
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In light of International Tango Day, I was interviewed (again) over the phone by Voice of Russia about Moscow's tango scene. Click the following link to listen to me prattle on for about fifteen minutes.<br />
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<a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/radio_broadcast/35614392/97661017.html">http://english.ruvr.ru/radio_broadcast/35614392/97661017.html</a><br />
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And as is tradition, take a listen to Zum by Osvaldo Pugliese.<br />
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<br />Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-47288915322364238352012-11-09T23:50:00.001+04:002013-05-27T22:26:16.684+04:00No Pain, No Gain Pt. 1<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a paradoxical twist of fate, or “</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ирония судьбы</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">” (ee-<i>roniya sood-bee </i>lit. "irony of fate"), my physical problems that I made mention of last post have likely arisen from tango classes, but coincidentally the terminology used <i>in</i> tango is extremely useful for explaining your problems to Russian doctors. So how about another long overdue language lesson?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">First up – although this took place last year and isn't all that exciting – I was having problems with my muscle (мышца<span lang="EN-US"> – <i>myshtsa</i>) in my </span>calf (</span>голень<span lang="EN-US"> – <i>goh-len’</i>) or икра </span><span lang="EN-US"> (<em>i-kra</em>). Officially, it should be </span>икроножная мышца<span lang="EN-US"> (<i>ikronozhnaya myshtsa</i>) - although to be even more accurate the calf muscle is actually made up of three different muscles, and therein lay the problem.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">My technique in the way I was stepping – in tango one of the key elements is a толчковый шаг (<i>tolch-kovy shag</i>), a “pushing” or “thrusting” step (derived from толчок – <i>tol-chok</i>) – was slightly off. Ideally, you are meant to propel yourself forward using your thighs (</span>бедро <span lang="EN-US">– <i>bed-roh</i>, which for some reason I keep getting mixed up with </span>ведро <span lang="EN-US">– <i>ved-roh – </i>which is “bucket”</span><span lang="EN-US">). </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For whatever reason I was using my heel muscles more than my thighs, stemming perhaps from not wanting to stand on my partner's feet (столкнуться - <i>stawlk-noot-sya</i>) as I moved forward. The proper technique involves making sure you stand on the inside part of your feet, which is referred to as внутренняя часть стопы (<i>v-noo-trenyaya chast’ stop-iy</i>), and that you have </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">открытые </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">стопы (<i>otkrytiye stop-iy</i> – open feet), and that your heels are together (пятки вместе – <i>pyatki vmes-tye</i>). If you’re lucky, after a few weeks you’ll have blisters (волдыры <i>– vol-dyr-ee,</i> though rarely used in speech) on your big toes (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">большие пальцы ног </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">– <em>bol-shiye paltsy nog</em>) that will later become calluses (мозоли –<i> maw-zawl-i</i>).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">As a result, muscles in my right calf were getting used more than they should and, if I understood the physiotherapist (</span>физиотерапевт <span lang="EN-US">– <i>fizio-terra-peft</i>) correctly, the way those muscles met led to spasms (</span>спазм<span lang="EN-US">) because of a build up of lactic acid or whatever. This manifested itself when I was suddenly struck by a painful cramp walking around the center of Moscow one summer day. Being a big girl, I instantly thought I had a torn muscle, or </span>разорванная <span lang="EN-US">(<i>razorvannaya) </i></span>мышца<span lang="EN-US">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">Thankfully it turned out there was no injury</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;"> and I was prescribed some stretches (</span><span style="font-family: arial;">вытягивание </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">– <i>vy-tyag-ivan-iye</i>), <a href="http://everythingmoscow.blogspot.com/2011/12/perfect-drug.html" target="_blank">that ointment stuff back in a previous post</a>, and a few massage (</span><span style="font-family: arial;">массаж </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">- <i>massazh</i>) </span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">sessions during which the physio poured </span>paraffin<span style="font-family: arial;"> wax over the affected area. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not pictured: my foot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second thing to give me grief was my back (спина - </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">spi-na</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) for similar reasons, although of course my instant conclusion was that I had slipped a disc and would be forever crippled. Ironically, probably much to the joy of my parents who had berated me for slouching, the MRI (магнитно-резонансная томография </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">magnito-rezonansnaya tomografia</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">,</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or just </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MRT</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) revealed that my back was, in fact, almost completely straight (прямая - </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">pri-maya</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) as a result of a year's worth of constant dancing.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The issue lay in the fact that along the length of your spine (позвоночник - <em>poh-zvo-noch-nik</em>) there are a whole bunch of muscles connected to the vertebrae. Now ideally the muscles in the lumbar region before meeting the rib cage (грудная клетка - <em>grood-naya klet-ka</em>) should only flex back and forward, while the turning stuff is done further up. Somehow I was breaking that rule and twisting the muscles that should not. So, of course, back to the doctor to get a referral for the physio.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It only dawned on me later at the medical center I use that the reason their physiotherapy department has the slightly odd title of травматология (<em>trav-ma-to-log-i-ya </em>- traumatology) is because it's a warning. The main word in травматология is <strong>trauma</strong>. Mood music and soothing wax were no longer going to cut it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The words "massage" and "therapy" in this context are misnomers; those two are meant to evoke the idea of relaxation. In my first stint at traumatology I was held face down while an unsympathetic small woman jammed her elbow (локоть - </span><em style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">law-kawt</em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) into my backside. My wails did nothing; "</span><em style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, I know, just a little bit more</em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">," as she pressed harder down on the back of my thigh for another ten minutes. And then <i>more</i> stretches. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This time round they involved me mostly lying on the floor thrusting my hips into the air while another small woman demanded I keep sticking my ass up higher and my head tilted forward. "<em>Look at belly!</em>" she commanded in broken English while making me hold an exercise ball with my arms and legs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Catch-22 here is that, while an hour's worth of such exercises every day might seem torturous and make you look like a prat, the thing is that, even though they hurt if you do them, your back or leg will still hurt if you don't. The upshot is that you keep up with the former in the hope that it will eventually <em>not </em>hurt any more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those three months of dry humping an exercise mat do eventually result in a happy ending - but unfortunately it's a slow one with no fanfare. The reward comes gradually, like when you sit back up after spending the past five minutes making your pelvis (таз <em>- tazz</em>) and chest point opposite directions for the umpteenth time to find that, hold on, that one thing in that bit there doesn't feel off any more. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">And then once you've fixed yourself all up, you go and do something stupid like crack one of your toes off a metal chair leg...</span></div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/SdOwGHpekd4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next time: the dangers of the Russian countryside</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> and the secret to seducing women. </span></div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-25156731851673288142012-08-27T00:27:00.001+04:002013-05-11T14:09:58.422+04:00Venturing Down the Pussy Riot Rabbit Hole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.a-w-i-p.com/media/blogs/articles/Articles23/RUS_pussy_riot_in_court.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://www.a-w-i-p.com/media/blogs/articles/Articles23/RUS_pussy_riot_in_court.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.a-w-i-p.com/media/blogs/articles/Articles23/RUS_pussy_riot_in_court.jpg"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I should
preface by noting that my word is not law. My only resources are basically what
I can find on the Internet, which isn’t a guarantee that the following is
completely accurate. The use of links to Wikipedia is more often for the
benefit of English readers with no knowledge of the Russian language, rather
than posting the Russian-only links. The various pieces of information I’ve
gathered ultimately all seem to point in the same direction and hopefully give
the narrative I've teased out of them a vague semblance of veracity. By all
means I invite readers to point out any inaccuracies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Secondly,
this entry is not a debate of the symbolic merits (or lack thereof) of five women
causing a ruckus in a Moscow
cathedral for a couple of minutes, or the state of equality and liberty in
post-Soviet Russian society. There are plenty of other staffers out there far
more capable of tackling such topics, some of whom will be referenced.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Finally,
apologies for the months-long period of silence; I know that some folk out
there have actually asked me why there haven’t been any updates in a while, for
which I’m touched. This is down to being plagued by physical problems, dragged
into bureaucracy, and just being plain busy. Sitting down for a couple of hours
to write something was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> low down
on the list of priorities over the past few months.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But I’m
back now, so are we good to go? </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.savethestudent.org/uploads/borat-thumbs-up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.savethestudent.org/uploads/borat-thumbs-up.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.savethestudent.org/uploads/borat-thumbs-up.jpg"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Cool.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A friend
wrote the following to me approximately around the time when three members of
Pussy Riot – (seen from left to right at the top) Yekaterina Samutsevich, Maria
Alyokhina, and Nadezhda Tolokonnikova – were staring down a judge in a Moscow courthouse:</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Can you,
like, provide a good explanation of what's going on? Swedish media is making
them look like these fearless freedom-fighters, with noble causes, fighting
Sauron himself. And that just seems way too simple.</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Truth be
told I had wanted to avoid the topic of Pussy Riot altogether. I am neither for
nor against the group’s activities, but as I’ve delved into the history of the
characters involved, I find myself becoming less and less sympathetic towards
their supposed plight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In response
to the question, I suggested reading this <a href="http://nsfwcorp.com/dispatch/pussy-riot">marvelous piece written by Mark
Ames</a> to start with, because the man has an amazing ability of frequently
pointing out how often the West is utterly ignorant or misinformed when it
comes to everything Russia.
The presentation of his remarks – certainly during his tenure at <a href="http://exiledonline.com/">the Exile</a> (NSFW) – may come off as extreme
or solely designed to shock, but there are very few North Americans out there
with as deep a knowledge of Russia
out there as he. Ignoring him is ill-advised.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Exile
was a freely distributed expat newspaper in Moscow
for about 15 years that got <a href="http://exiledonline.com/final-days-of-the-exile-mark-ames-blogs-the-kremlin-crackdown/">shut
down in 2008</a> and, if you read the Ames
article above, it was partly because of one of the members of Pussy Riot.
Despite appearances of a rag and the fact it was littered with adverts for
strip clubs – which was an extremely smart move on their part, because every
other free English-language newspaper like The Moscow Times, The Moscow News,
or Element, seem to not understand that these are an ad revenue goldmine – it
was one of the most well-written periodicals I've ever had the pleasure of
reading. The Exile was essentially one big contrarian editorial with a
libertarian satirical slant that was well ahead of the curve, and ridiculously funny
to boot.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://exiledonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/exile240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://exiledonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/exile240.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://exiledonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/exile240.jpg"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Getting
back to the question, the "fearless freedom-fighters" line immediately
stood out for me. I find it increasingly absurd – and extremely worrying – that
almost no one in the West has bothered to take a closer look into who these
three "innocent", "progressive", "intelligent",
and "every-other-adjective-the-Guardian-can-come-out-with"
"girls" actually are. The deeper I’ve looked into this affair, the
more it seems that they are anything but. Another friend wrote:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have some
friends dislocating their arms trying to pat themselves on the backs about
supporting Pussy Riot, and yet like you say, most of us have never heard of
before and have no easy way of gaining vital context.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That single
sentence does a good job of capturing my attitude towards this entire farce. The
longer the Pussy Riot debacle was drawn out, the more I was reminded of the pretentious
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kony_2012">Kony 2012/Make Kony Famous</a>
campaign and the initial reaction it generated. Remember that?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://wvoutpost.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/kony2012-video-560x314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://wvoutpost.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/kony2012-video-560x314.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://static.fjcdn.com/pictures/Willy%2BWonka%2Bkony%2B2012.%2Bsoz%2Bif%2Bre-post_d52073_3708253.jpg"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Then recall
how <a href="http://visiblechildren.tumblr.com/">only one person (a second-year
politics student!) bothered to look into the Invisible Children bunch for
slightly longer than the time it took</a> to watch their <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc">30 minutes of obnoxious
YouTube garbage</a> and revealed them to be significantly less-than-legit? And
then just a week or so later public opinion turned against them and the
Internet started calling the filmmakers everything under the sun, leading to
director Jason Russell losing his mind and exposing himself on a San Diego
street?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/TjdH2LDH5LM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Well, I'm
getting the same vibe from the Pussy Riot case. But with this entry by no means
am I even attempting to be the guy that outed Invisible Children as a bunch of
ne’er-do-wells lacking transparency over how they spent donations – nor do I
even want to be. My motivation for finally approaching this affair is that
(among other things) I am concerned that folk around me have jumped on the
Pussy Riot bandwagon without even questioning the group's origins, as if to suggest
that this is just another case of the good underdog vs. the evil establishment –
one that lets us neatly fall into two camps, and the mere idea of proposing
anything to the contrary is absolutely horrifying.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With that
in mind, shall we meet <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/17/us-russia-pussyriot-profiles-idUSBRE87G0HU20120817">the
three “young” ladies</a> who have just received a two-year sentence for an act
of hooliganism?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">First up is
Maria Alyokhina, 24, mother to a five-year-old son.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://en.rian.ru/images/17292/20/172922062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://en.rian.ru/images/17292/20/172922062.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Together
with Samutsevich and Tolokonnikova, the three allegedly formed Pussy Riot in
September 2011 to supposedly fight against the "Putin junta".
Alyokhina is the so-called "Writer" of the trio due to her studies at
the <a href="http://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%98%D0%BD%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B8%D1%82%D1%83%D1%82_%D0%B6%D1%83%D1%80%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%BB%D0%B8%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B8%D0%BA%D0%B8_%D0%B8_%D0%BB%D0%B8%D1%82%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B0%D1%82%D1%83%D1%80%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%B3%D0%BE_%D1%82%D0%B2%D0%BE%25">Institute
of Journalism and Creative Writing</a>. Her background is in humanitarian voluntary
work, as well as a spell at Greenpeace Russia getting anti-logging
petitions – a grand total of about 4,600 signatures – to send to Medvedev back
in 2008. Before she was arrested she was in her fourth year of journo studies</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">. Allegedly Alyokhina is a vegan
and ended up reportedly malnourished in prison because she was not being fed
appropriately by the authorities.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b>[edit: The following was not Alyokhina's doing, but is instead attributed to one of the individuals involved in Voina's museum orgy who shall remain unnamed. Details of some of the actions by Voina, which are not worksafe, from 2006-2012 <a href="http://plucer.livejournal.com/266853.html" target="_blank">in English can be found by clicking here</a>] </b>It has been claimed that in 2010, Alyokhina
allegedly released an infamous video of herself <a href="http://bigstory.ap.org/article/anti-putin-feminist-punks-trial-moscow">masturbating
in a St. Petersburg grocery store with a frozen chicken</a> (just an article,
not the video in question), which was subsequently stolen from the supermarket, but this is misattributed and deemed just another part of a smear campaign against the three. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Next we have
Yekaterina Samutsevich, the so-called “Artist” and oldest of the trio at 29.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://blogs.artinfo.com/artintheair/files/2012/10/pussyriot-release.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://blogs.artinfo.com/artintheair/files/2012/10/pussyriot-release.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She
graduated at the top of her class at the Rodchenko School of Photography.
During her student years she got acquainted with Tolokonnikova, roughly around
2008, when Samutsevich was seen <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/16/us-blog-pussy-riots-idUSBRE87F0PW20120816">clutching
onto the back of a Moscow</a> train <a href="http://en.free-voina.org/">with
art activist group Voina</a> founders Natalya Sokol and Oleg Vorotnikov in June of that year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643120807&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AH00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643120807&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AH00" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In that
instance the three refused to pay for the train, as apparently tickets are for
the self-centered urban population blind to society's ills hidden in plain
sight (or maybe they were just cheapskates). Strangely enough, students in Russia
get enormous discounts on public transport and occasionally free entry into
museums and the like.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Despite
being relatively quiet during the trial, Samutsevich’s previous actions dictate
otherwise. As part of the Moscow “faction” of Voina – a group that we will come
back to in detail later – in July 2010 Samutsevich allegedly released <a href="http://www.lenta.ru/news/2010/07/12/roaches/">3000 live Madagascan giant
cockroaches in the corridors of a Moscow courthouse</a>, although there are
claims that she didn’t succeed and that the police confiscated them at the
court’s entrance.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.lenta.ru/news/2010/07/12/roaches/picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://img.lenta.ru/news/2010/07/12/roaches/picture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(My Russian
friend had one of these in his student halls for some reason. If you rub one on
its back, it makes a creepy hissing sound.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This insect-infestation
move by Samutsevich was because a couple of curators were on trial for
organizing the "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/13/world/europe/13moscow.html">Forbidden
Art-2006</a>" exhibition, which came under scrutiny in March 2007 when a
Christian organization filed a lawsuit against them for purportedly defacing
religious symbols and fueling national hatred. Said exhibition featured images
of Mickey Mouse as Jesus...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://thejesusquestion.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/mickey-mouse-sermon-on-the-mount_alexander-savich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://thejesusquestion.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/mickey-mouse-sermon-on-the-mount_alexander-savich.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">…and Lenin
on the cross.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3144/2625113962_c8c3c11dd6.jpg?v=0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3144/2625113962_c8c3c11dd6.jpg?v=0" width="271" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ironically,
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very same</i> courthouse that
Samutsevich tried to infest with cockroaches is the one that recently handed
down a verdict on the three. Samutsevich also took part in "Operation:
Kiss Garbage" («Лобзай мусора» <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lob-zai
moo-sore-ah</i>) where female members of the so-called Moscow faction of Voina in February 2011 went running around the Moscow metro kissing
young female police school students seemingly in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_police_reform">protest of Medvedev's
impending police reform</a>.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Last and by
no means least is Nadezhda “the Philosopher” Tolokonnikova</span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/multimedia/archive/00322/110693022_01_322083b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/multimedia/archive/00322/110693022_01_322083b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Twenty-two
year old Nadya (short for Nadezhda; other examples of such diminutives of
Russian names are Dima for Dmitry, and Vova for Vladimir) is if not the apparent leader of
the three women behind the glass, then certainly the most well known to the
international public. Part of the reason for this is that her slightly hardier makeup-less
sisters-in-arms don’t contrast well in split screens against tough guy Putin on
TVs. Roll out the frail, gentle, allegedly hunger-struck brunette brave enough
to stand up to the establishment fist-in-the-air instead.</span></div>
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<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643198829&w=460&fh=&fw=&ll=&pl=&r=CDEE87F1E3U00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643198829&w=460&fh=&fw=&ll=&pl=&r=CDEE87F1E3U00" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A lot has
been said about her, but there’s plenty more. Some of you by now probably know
that she is, in fact, <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/2012/08/should-canada-intervene-in-the-pussy-riot-case.html">a
permanent resident of Canada and even holds an Ontario health card.</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/pussy-riot-card-460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/pussy-riot-card-460.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This is due
to the fact that her husband Pyotr Verzilov is a Canadian citizen. What some
people might <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> know is that Nadya
is not even from Moscow.
She’s originally from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norilsk">Norilsk, Northern
Siberia</a>, which is mostly known for being freezing cold nine months of the
year and incredibly polluted due to extensive nickel ore mining (some of you
might have heard of “Norilsk Nickel” in connection with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oleg_Deripaska">billionaire oligarch Oleg
Deripaska’s </a>business ventures).</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">About the
most publicized factoid about Tolokonnikova is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuck_for_the_heir_Puppy_Bear%21">her
participation in a group sex orgy</a> at a Moscow Museum of Biology in April of
2008 when she was a heavily pregnant 17-year-old.</span></div>
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<a href="http://exiledonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/russia4-470x313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://exiledonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/russia4-470x313.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pictured to
the right is husband Verzilov desperately trying to stimulate his censored-out
limp self into life. Nadya gave birth about four days later. When Nadya’s
mother saw the video, she threw her daughter out of the house, while other
group members faced disciplinary measures from their respective universities. The crass
incident was orchestrated by the aforementioned group Voina (meaning “war”),
and this is where things start to get particularly intricate.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To fully understand
Tolokonnikova, and consequently Pussy Riot, we need to take a closer look at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voina">Voina</a> - especially considering <a href="http://en.free-voina.org/post/11432689542">an absolutely damning interview
about Tolokonnikova and her husband with the group by Russian philosopher Vadim
Rudnev</a> from October 2011.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Voina was formed in the fall of 2005 by Oleg Vorotnikov…</span></div>
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<a href="http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/5818/122215466.e/0_6f0da_9041cd1d_L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/5818/122215466.e/0_6f0da_9041cd1d_L.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">…and
Natalia Sokol.</span></div>
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<a href="http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/6105/122215466.1b/0_80151_54772615_L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/6105/122215466.1b/0_80151_54772615_L.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Its alumni
are made up of students from the Rodchenko School of Photography and Moscow
State University (MGU) among others. The latter is one of Russia’s
answers to the Ivy League, and at the time of Tolokonnikova’s arrest, Nadya was
in her fourth year in MGU’s philosophy faculty.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The group
is known for hit-and-run performance art actions. Some of them are vaguely amusing,
like childishly spray-painting a massive phallus on a St. Petersburg bridge in
2010 (called “Dick Captured by KGB”) that couldn’t be taken down for several
hours because the boats have to get through.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYlQ-ecwzQyIRVh0e2dFXrrFKFHM0lYh1S14Rf18urJqNBHfam9kH5DeT3RFGaRv9BDnkuSZym9rg0w12s4Kfn9F27d3CECJafJv3rE4bzeZXkk8JT0145xiTq2iVW76uHAs1TfLU3-Y_/s1600/penis-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYlQ-ecwzQyIRVh0e2dFXrrFKFHM0lYh1S14Rf18urJqNBHfam9kH5DeT3RFGaRv9BDnkuSZym9rg0w12s4Kfn9F27d3CECJafJv3rE4bzeZXkk8JT0145xiTq2iVW76uHAs1TfLU3-Y_/s320/penis-bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/755205/voina-explains-why-firebombing-a-police-tank-is-a-piece-of-art">Other
times they throw Molotov cocktails at police cars</a>.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.artinfo.com/sites/default/files/voina_policevan.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://www.artinfo.com/sites/default/files/voina_policevan.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As a result
of such actions, Vorotnikov and Sokol are now in hiding from the police. The
former was actually put on an international arrest warrant back in 2011 for his
“Palace Revolution” <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uBQBtnkmec">where
he helped overturn several police cars in St. Petersburg</a>. In the period of
2008-2009, Tolokonnikova and Verzilov became primary figures in Voina.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Following
the orgy stunt and being kicked out of house and home, Tolokonnikova spent the
summer of 2008 <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/16/us-blog-pussy-riots-idUSBRE87F0PW20120816">living
in an unheated garage</a> with her husband alongside Vorotnikov and Sokol</span></div>
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<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643121092&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AL00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643121092&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AL00" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643121095&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AM00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643121095&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AM00" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">From this
point on Nadya’s story becomes intriguing. In the interview with Voina’s <a href="http://en.free-voina.org/post/11432689542">Oleg Vorotnikov, Leonid
Nikolayev, Natalia Sokol and Alexei Plutser-Sarno</a>, the “progressive”,
“intelligent”, “innocent” Tolokonnikova and her Canadian husband are accused by
the four of being bumbling idiots, as well as thieves and liars who betrayed the
group on numerous occasions.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">These
unflattering remarks don’t just lie in simple “ideological differences” between
the artists. Over the course of their two years in Voina, Nadya and Pyotr
seemingly pursued self-interests at the expense of the rest of the group. According
to Plutser-Sarno, “[Tolokonnikova and Verzilov] didn’t suggest a single idea
for an action. They never did creative work. They were occupied with
self-promotion.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One
particular instance that draws the group’s ire is a September 2008 action in a Moscow megastore that the
couple was involved in, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">wherein the fake execution of a gay man and a
migrant worker was staged</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">.</span></div>
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<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643122418&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AQ00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643122418&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AQ00" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643122419&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AR00" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20120816&t=2&i=643122419&w=&fh=&fw=&ll=700&pl=390&r=CBRE87F13AR00" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">While the
above photos taken by Reuters photographer Tom Peter show Nadya and Pyotr as the brains behind the action, an excerpt from the interview states otherwise: </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alexei Plutser-Sarno:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Let’s take a look at how one of the
Voina actions, say, Decembrists Commemoration, was planned. Brainstorming
started with Natalia’s idea to stage something horrifying with a lethal outcome
in the end. Oleg suggested the whole group should hang themselves in public.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Plut (Alexei Plutser-Sarno’s nickname) said
then that the effect would be more dramatic if we’d be hangmen – not “suicide”
victims. Koza (Natalia’s nickname) and I agreed. Plut told us that it would be
great to dedicate this action to Decembrists and suggested a slogan “No one
gives a fuck <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavel_Pestel">about Pestel</a>!”</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yana</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Sarna:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
Pyotr Verzilov didn’t participate in this creative work. As usual, he came to
the action to show off in front of the photo cameras. As usual, he drew
supermarket security by his silly behavior and nearly ruined the action.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Nadya Tolokonnikova was told to go up the
ladder, attach a loop around the neck of one of the “victims”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Well, she
went up the ladder all right, but she completely forgot about the loop. That’s
why one part of the photo shoot failed. Usually we tried not to give her two
tasks at a time, but that time we hoped that she could handle it. Apart from
that, all she could do was march in front of the cameras with a
“revolutionist-like” face.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yana</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Sarna:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
After the action in various interviews Pyotr and Nadya called themselves the
authors of this action, as well as leaders and ideologists of the group. They
always plagiarize and take the credit for other people’s works. But you know,
an apprentice can’t take credit for his teacher’s masterpieces even though he
helped him to mix colours and handed him brushes.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Natalia Sokol:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Four activists were arrested within this
action. Plut and Vor (Oleg Vorotnikov’s nickname) went to liberate them from
the police office in the supermarket. Among them there were two photographers.
Plut secretly managed to take away all the memory cards with photo
documentation.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alexei Plutser-Sarno:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Pyotr and Nadya disappeared from
the place immediately. They didn’t help anyone.</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A “split”
in the group came in December 2009 – or, as claimed by Vorotnikov et al, Pyotr and Nadya were
unanimously expelled from Voina. In November of the
same year, Tolokonnikova and Verzilov were meant to go down to Kiev to help Ukrainian
artist-activist Alexander Volodarsky organize an action outside the houses of
Ukrainian parliament.<b> [edit: Volodarsky actually <a href="http://shiitman.livejournal.com/703694.html" target="_blank">disputes the following accusation in a blog post, </a>and that he's sick of being "a bargaining chip" between the two camps]</b> The plan was to strip naked and simulate public sex by
the walls of government, but… </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov: </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pyotr ratted out Volodarsky to the cops and
informed us about it with joy and satisfaction.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> He tried to
convince Koza and me that it’d be a good PR move for the Voina Group. He is so
immoral that he didn’t even understand why we were so outraged by his words. He
said to us: “Are you insane! It’s such a good opportunity and an incredible PR
move for us. I’ve already given a dozen of interviews!”</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In another
LiveJournal entry, written by Plutser and titled <a href="http://lj.rossia.org/users/plucer/205841.html">Alexander Volodarsky: “Pyotr
Verzilov Fucked Us All and Betrayed and Robbed Me”</a> (in Russian but NSFW) - a statement that Volodarsky refutes - the
incident resulted in Alexander getting <a href="http://sptimes.ru/index_bp.php?action_id=2&story_id=34592&section=4">six
weeks in pre-trial detention, followed by three months in a labor camp</a>. As if it weren’t enough that the couple supposedly fed Volodarsky to the Kiev cops, as the title of the LJ entry suggests, Nadya and Pyotr
also stole Volodarsky’s belongings and money.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The group was not amused by the couple’s move. To mask the fact that they had
been unceremoniously booted out, Pyotr reportedly spread a rumour that the group had in
fact split into “two” Voinas: the "real" rabble-rousing Voina i.e. Vorotnikov, Sokol, Plutser,
etc. and the Moscow “fraction” of Voina – or, as Plutser refers to them, “<a href="http://sptimes.ru/index_bp.php?action_id=2&story_id=34592&section=4">Verzilov
and his girlfriends</a>”.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Adding
insult to the injuries of Voina, Pyotr then broke into one of the group’s
secret storages, stealing banners and various materials from the group’s
actions over the years before traveling around Europe
exhibiting the works in various galleries, taking credit for activities he had
no hand in. Because most of the group members were either in prison or in
hiding from the authorities, they couldn’t approach the various gallery owners over the false
representation. Furthermore, according to the group, just a few months following
the expulsion, Pyotr and Nadya pulled off another far more damaging theft:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> In May 2010, Pyotr Verzilov and Nadezhda
Tolokonnikova broke into our storage and stole the whole Voina archive:
banners, my personal library, original video footage of the actions, disks with
various info, our music library, equipment, including amplifiers, loud
speakers, DVD-players, projectors etc. They stole my desk top with all the info
on Voina. They denied the fact of burglary, but a bit later their friend Katya
asked us to take some of the stolen stuff from her balcony – things that Pyotr
and Nady left there as useless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Natalia Sokol:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> I caught Peter once when he was downloading
all the data, including a Voina photo archive from my laptop. He didn’t return
anything and insisted he didn’t do anything. Later I realized that his theft
was much more extensive than I thought before. For example, he also got all my
usernames and passwords to various websites. He changed passwords to several
Flickr accounts, where I uploaded photos of Voina actions. In happened in
January 2009. Now I don’t have any access to them.</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Furthering
the group’s accusation that the two are nothing more than a pair of
plagiarists, Plutser noted that the cockroach incident that Pussy Riot convict Samutsevich
tried to pull off in 2010 had been discussed the previous year at a meeting. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alexei Plutser-Sarno:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Peter stole the idea of the
“Cockroach court” action from Oleg. The idea of using insects, such as
cockroaches or bees, was discussed at the group meeting in 2009, when Peter was
still in the group.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At the
“Cockroach court” action Peter didn’t manage to get the cockroaches inside the
courtroom. But he lied about it to journalists. You won’t be able to find any
pics or video of this co-called action as they don’t exist – cockroaches were
confiscated by the court security at the entrance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Natalia Sokol:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Pyotr tried to compensate this total failure
by his usual clownery, posing and lying to the cameras in front of the court.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov: </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is only one glamorous pic of this action –
<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4118/4793202948_43ba720c98_b.jpg">a
naked Nadya lying with cockroaches on her breasts</a>. That’s not Voina style.
That’s a disgrace. Pyotr simulates protest and counts on gutter press.</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To top it
all off for Vorotnikov & co. the whole time Nadya and Pyotr were claiming to
be leaders of Voina.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alexei Plutser-Sarno:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Our slogan, “Anyone can make
actions!” is still alive. But if Oleg, Natalia and Leonid make new risky
actions, Pyotr and Nadya only use this slogan as a cover to steal our ideas and
make feeble copycat actions.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Leonid Nikolayev:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> When they try to do their own actions it turns
out to be a complete disaster. Take for instance, their latest shallow action
in which they hugged cops and fed them with chicken. Previously, they <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0A8Qf893cs">once again discredited
Voina’s name by frenching young female police school students in the Moscow
metro.</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alexei Plutser-Sarno:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Their actions are a mere clownery
that has nothing to do with heroic art of the Voina Group.</span></div>
</blockquote>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ultimately,
Vorotnikov is not happy with Tolokonnikova’s husband:</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oleg Vorotnikov:</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Verzilov is a liar, a thief, a police provoker
and dexterous deceiver.</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I’m going
to have to resist regurgitating the rest of the Voina interview – which, if you
didn’t click on the link earlier, <a href="http://en.free-voina.org/post/11432689542">you can read here</a> – as
this lengthy post needs to come to a close.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In conclusion it should probably be noted that the people involved in Voina and Pussy Riot mostly come <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/16/us-blog-pussy-riots-idUSBRE87F0PW20120816" target="_blank">from more or less privileged middle-class backgrounds</a>. The majority of people featured here both in Voina and Pussy Riot all studied at some of Russia's most prestigious institutions. None of them were poor or found wanting until they decided to abandon home comforts and resort to a romantic lifestyle of digging out clothes from the trash, squatting in garages, and shoplifting.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">...Or maybe it's not important who or what the members of Pussy Riot are, and maybe this post is ultimately worthless in the grand scheme of things. But it should be important, because unless Tolokonnikova & friends had suddenly changed their ways in the short time since the split from the original Voina, then they didn't jump around in front a church altar for the good of society - they did it for themselves.</span></div>
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<br />
<b>Update</b>: I highly recommend reading the following two links written on <a href="http://mercouris.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">British lawyer Alexander Mercouris' blog</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://mercouris.wordpress.com/2012/08/07/pussy-riot-2/">http://mercouris.wordpress.com/2012/08/07/pussy-riot-2/</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://mercouris.wordpress.com/2012/08/28/pussy-riot-after-the-judgment/">http://mercouris.wordpress.com/2012/08/28/pussy-riot-after-the-judgment/</a><br />
<br />
Long but extremely thorough and well worth a read. Unfortunately, some folk have already made their mind up about the case.</div>
Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-88622990514998888932012-05-17T13:13:00.000+04:002012-05-17T13:14:44.537+04:00Flash (Food) Mob<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="284" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/umTDLZHlXmo" width="500"></iframe>
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So what’s <a href="http://www.kitchenparty.org/EN/" target="_blank">Kitchen Party</a> then? If you’re familiar with <a href="http://www.couchsurfing.org/" target="_blank">CouchSurfing</a> (which you aren’t), it’s the same thing - sans the couch. Rather than sleeping on some stranger’s sofa, you’re dinner-partying at some stranger’s place, meeting other like-minded (and hungry) individuals. The theme of the parties can be anything you’d like.</div>
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In fact, it doesn’t even need to be held at some glamorous penthouse apartment. There have been picnics in the park in Buenos Aires, rooftop barbeques in Rome, and even simple potluck dinners in flats across the globe.</div>
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The reaction I’ve faced when attempting to explain this whole thing to folk is usually along the lines of “<i>Benjamin, you’re insane. Why would you invite random, completely unknown people into your home?</i>” But that’s a false assumption.</div>
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See, the thing is, these people<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>aren’t</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>random. The folk who attend these things are already predisposed to this sort of behaviour – especially among couchsurfers. The way the system is set up isn’t like some public social network where anyone can join within a few clicks and casually turn up without notice. It requires activity on their part (people on the Internet are rather lazy). This slightly left-field branch of society aren’t freaked out by the idea of unfamiliar encounters, because they’ve already gone out of their way in the past to take part in such things offline. Ultimately it’s less about how good the food is and more about gathering together.</div>
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Inevitably the next question I’m usually faced with is “<i>Okay, but you’re feeding these people for free – what do you get out of it? Also, you’re still nuts.</i>” Well, the proposal put to guests is that they should bring something, much like any other normal shindig. It could be something simple as BYOB, but you can request that folk tell you a story. The most incredible thing I’ve heard so far at one KP is that a couple of guests put on a short three-act play for everyone in attendance.</div>
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I’ve held several so far in Moscow, starting with a potato party (cuz I’m Irish, geddit? Hilarious, I know), wherein I just served a huge pot of mashed potato, and it was a roaring success – although a few bottles of wine did loosen things up somewhat.</div>
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Given that it was the winter, I turned my attention to making soup instead. Chicken Vegetable is piss easy to make in huge quantities, as all you’re doing is throwing things into one big pot (recipe available on request). The only issue was coming up with a vegetarian option, which I’m not very good at – but therein lies another facet to how wonderful this idea is. It has encouraged me (and could encourage you too) to cook more. As for my request to the guests, I asked them to “bring something warm”. One guest brought a traditional spicy paste called<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adjika" target="_blank">аджика</a> (</span><i>ad-zhi-ka</i>), while another made us all mulled wine.</div>
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As to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>why</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I got involved with it, it ties into my tango trip to Buenos Aires. There I met my long-time friend Mike, who helped start up the venture with his Italian friends. “<i>Oh, that’s a pretty cool idea</i>,” I said. And then there was a slight pause and I just<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>knew<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>what would happen next.</div>
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“<i>Hey Ben, why don’t you kick things off in Moscow? I’m certain that the Russians would love this.</i>”</div>
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Mike has an extremely magnetic personality (and if you ever meet him, which is more likely than you think because he’s constantly travelling the world, he can regale you with fascinating stories) and is tremendously difficult to say no to. But I genuinely like the idea.</div>
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The whole thing has garnered a lot of press attention lately too, and we have groups and accounts on all the major <a href="http://www.facebook.com/KitchenParty.org" target="_blank">social network sites</a>. And yes, even Google+.</div>
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Unfortunately, I’ve had my soup parties on hiatus for a couple of months already because of various personal issues I’ve had to deal with. Also, I’m kind of stuck for ideas on what to make, because it is<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>roasting</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>hot now. Soup was good for the winter; not so appealing for blazing Moscow heat.</div>
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So maybe, dear reader, you might like to take part in this social revolution but still don't feel like inviting people you've never met before in your life round for a meal? Well, you're in luck. Across the rest of the globe, flash mobs <a href="http://www.facebook.com/KitchenParty.org/posts/296408480444604" target="_blank">are being planned for the end of this month on May 27th</a>, wherein folk will bum-rush their town square to have a picnic.</div>
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I have to pass on organizing that myself; Moscow's administration doesn't tend to view unsanctioned gatherings in the city kindly.</div>
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<br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-87270198673848131612012-03-26T12:32:00.007+04:002012-04-02T16:06:42.469+04:00United (Inter)Nations<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">So here's the two main announcements:<br /><br />- You may notice something sitting in the top right corner of the page that wasn't there previously. It turns out that someone other than myself reads this thing and they liked it so much they have featured me on their site, which is called <a href="http://www.internations.org/">InterNations</a>. It's a sort of social/business network between expats in different cities across the world and is really rather nifty. So, InterNations folk, if you've got any questions about Moscow life, I am more than happy to answer. Heck, I'll even take requests for topics.<br /><br />- I mentioned in the previous post that I have been hosting <a href="http://www.kitchenparty.org/EN/">dinner parties</a> - the origins of which goes all the way back to, of all things, my trip to Buenos Aires...<br /><br />...which we'll cover <strike>tomorrow</strike> soon!<br /><br />Also, Game of Thrones trailer - because it's shot in Northern Ireland.<br /><br /><br /><object width="500" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOzXsqoJhtE?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOzXsqoJhtE?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="284" width="500"></embed></object><br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-38245705505522218942011-12-11T17:27:00.016+04:002012-02-02T01:28:24.151+04:00The Perfect Drug<div style="text-align: justify;">Russians have, from the outset, a slightly bewildering obsession with the аптека (<em>ap-tye-kah - </em>pharmacy, drugstore; possibly Greek in origin). The set up involves a typically <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">long</span> queue (очередь <em>oh-che-red</em>) - the type seen everywhere else from the metro ticket booth (касса - <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">kah-sa</span>) to a toilet (туалет) at a nightclub (ночной клуб - <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">noch-noi cloob</span>). With the exception of the latter, such queues usually lead to a woman behind a small window with a wafer-thin gap to pass money through. They tend to look something like this.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLE7dV1zfpsF3t-5MmhEKQNrwNy3yeLyKo9HXWJyL5eIafFjFOu8yNxFlHFyEaxCqUwUrHtf4h2-vPdvn3cNIPsnP6-vpG0OM9TpuaZfWhVl9_sgVfuN2WrYgC3AObHQi1l8fNH5X0Czs/s1600/chemistwindow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLE7dV1zfpsF3t-5MmhEKQNrwNy3yeLyKo9HXWJyL5eIafFjFOu8yNxFlHFyEaxCqUwUrHtf4h2-vPdvn3cNIPsnP6-vpG0OM9TpuaZfWhVl9_sgVfuN2WrYgC3AObHQi1l8fNH5X0Czs/s320/chemistwindow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704271107840509378" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nowadays there are more Boots-esque style stores where you can wander about as you please and take stuff to the till. The old school variant has you in a mostly empty room with glass cases showing off the oddly-named and mysterious substances available for purchase - providing, of course, if you know <span>exactly</span> what you want.<br /><br />The funny thing is - some of the time the patrons <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">don't</span> know what they want, and will grill the poor pharmacist for at least ten minutes detailing their exact condition - going as far in places as to go over the instructions packaged with whatever product they may or may not need. As you might expect, by the end of this, some might not even make a purchase. And yes, this has happened to me.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Now most of what I've said so far is bitchy and whiny but, in a roundabout way, I'm trying to highlight a rather unfortunate aspect about the healthcare industry in Russia. Along with teachers and lecturers, doctors and therapists are treated dreadfully here. Why? Along with a bunch of other reasons, there exists a belief that Russians know their own body better than anyone else, and they are the ones best qualified to deal with any ailment.<br /><br />The mere <em>idea</em> of having to pay someone else (let alone asking them!) for medical assistance verges on blasphemy. Admitting you could be suffering from depression is rare to see among Russians, but it might just be a contributing factor to <a href="http://www.who.int/mental_health/prevention/suicide_rates/en/">the staggering suicide rate among Russian males</a> (setting aside the effects of post-Soviet poverty, alcoholism, general living standards etc.), not to mention the <a href="http://www.rferl.org/content/Moscow_Cop_Gets_Life_In_Prison_For_Supermarket_Shooting_Rampage/1962911.html">occasional instance of a police major going on a drunken rampage and shooting three people dead in a Moscow supermarket</a>.<br /><br />As a result, psychotherapists do not get the same respect (or money) as their Western counterparts, so it's not clear how widespread genetic mental disorders are in this country - especially those that may be as a result of alcohol abuse, and good grief this post has taken a dark turn.<br /><br />Enough of that - let's look at some cool shit you can pick up in the pharmacies here! First up is this awesomeness called Nicoflex.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTFYku9akAPirJj4bKT9LTetLWIiqzgw8bcyqgDiEyB9fuQP_4xYdL3rIjWC6bYM-pvZ2wZdU1kk3Fjj7HWf1CA-I4FWcs5dhWlEOcmuCIdR_C545w7YcucJba0c3tpglvvd3r4_0gJo/s1600/DSC02722.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTFYku9akAPirJj4bKT9LTetLWIiqzgw8bcyqgDiEyB9fuQP_4xYdL3rIjWC6bYM-pvZ2wZdU1kk3Fjj7HWf1CA-I4FWcs5dhWlEOcmuCIdR_C545w7YcucJba0c3tpglvvd3r4_0gJo/s320/DSC02722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704266915381251650" border="0" /></a><br />It comes in a tube and in Russian is called a мазь (<span style="font-style: italic;">mazz</span> - ointment) If you're an idiot like me who has been dancing too much and ends up using muscles you didn't even know you had then Nicoflex is for you. It's basically Soviet strength <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deep_Heat_%28heat_rub%29">Deep Heat </a>and it works a charm. Stiff back? Nicoflex. Cramped calf muscle? Nicoflex. Eyes not watering enough? Forget to wash your hands after applying Nicoflex.<br /><br />On a similar theme is... Ketonal!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjFSxTs8xVmdvWIS6f-VU70407jmiK7A3GndLzr_HqyFxjWHiBB-AmFntD7iJILPK4Sg1CJe0WK_DZVNY_Aa4TxpWYdw_aaxMxbKzHmWmO1nWTDyqmTVrWfxH6j03aUsZk4UED2paCuM/s1600/DSC02723.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjFSxTs8xVmdvWIS6f-VU70407jmiK7A3GndLzr_HqyFxjWHiBB-AmFntD7iJILPK4Sg1CJe0WK_DZVNY_Aa4TxpWYdw_aaxMxbKzHmWmO1nWTDyqmTVrWfxH6j03aUsZk4UED2paCuM/s320/DSC02723.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704268550535373858" border="0" /></a><br />Now that your ligaments feel as though they're on fire, it's time to pop some Ketonal for any leftover joint pain. Forget those shiny packets of neatly arranged Nurofen tablets; these bad boys come in a non-descript brown glass bottle. You just know that the dodgier it looks, the more effective it's going to be.<br /><br />And what about something to keep your immune system going in the winter? I should note that, as of time of writing, it's currently -23 Celsius. Enter Аскорбинка (<span style="font-style: italic;">As-kor-bin-ka </span>from ascorbic acid - y'know the vitamin C stuff).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27_bOzv2Hc_OqJjycZbqxn7QiYPZpEeXv_4cL6wqQvVyJ3TrRoozZetSNRUophuSFs4BJKtCNU7wQoOg1lvEPrYQ61x9Eu9Ees9TeNi2fkXezEOcbV_wTH1YcKgLQq-CAy5CWX7TPDqM/s1600/askorbinka.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27_bOzv2Hc_OqJjycZbqxn7QiYPZpEeXv_4cL6wqQvVyJ3TrRoozZetSNRUophuSFs4BJKtCNU7wQoOg1lvEPrYQ61x9Eu9Ees9TeNi2fkXezEOcbV_wTH1YcKgLQq-CAy5CWX7TPDqM/s320/askorbinka.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704269418187831442" border="0" /></a>Askorbinka are mostly aimed at kids and, naturally, completely laced with sugar. But it's okay because it's got vitamin C in it. They're fairly cheap as well, and make for a crappy treat at kids' birthday parties.<br /><br />============<br /><br />In other news I've been at milongas non-stop since returning from Argentina, and slowly working my way towards becoming a local legend in the Moscow tango community. Also, one of the instructors celebrated her birthday at the school. No prizes for guessing where I am in the video.<br /><br /><object width="500" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8VY6KxP1aio?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8VY6KxP1aio?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="284"></embed></object><br /><br />As a result of my trip to Buenos Aires, I've also started hosting dinner parties here, which I shall elaborate on in the next post (no really, because it's high time I shamelessly promoted this stuff).<br /><br />Umm... what else? Oh yeah, <a href="http://thefuckingweather.com/?zipcode=Moscow%2C+Russia&REMEMBER=checked&CELSIUS=yes">it's cold.</a><br /><br /><br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-49409824727879780402011-11-26T10:37:00.011+04:002011-11-27T01:25:15.425+04:00Buenos Diaries Pt. 2: Diary Harder<div style="text-align: justify;"><span>The</span><span> exciting conclusion to my adventures in Argentina</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Day 8 The lessons begin</span><br /><br />Decide to be gross and eat at mcdonalds for lunch. Wouldn't accept credit card. Hmm. Try to find a citibank. Also no go. Tried to go to Disco supermarket - card worked there before - but place is completely friggin' packed. Sunbathe for an hour. Head to meet maestro Damian, who taught me various bits about the close embrace. A bunch more lessons with him await.<br /><br />Return to Disco later. Card isn't blocked, just can't withdraw cash it seems, or pay for Big Macs (not that I need to). Before evening of dancing I post the first week's worth of blog stuff.<br /><br />Two milongas (yes, two!) were complete washouts. Ended up practically performing in front of a crowd on an empty dance floor with Irina in a place called La Catedral. Someone was taking photos, I think, so I'm probably on someone's facebook wall by now. Floor there sucks. Thumbs down. Studenty BoHo crowd more interested in watching people than actually getting up themselves.<br /><br />Early-ish start tomorrow.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 9 Cleaning up my act</span><br /><br />Damian is an unbelievably nice guy who, aside from dancing, also plays the piano, teaches at the Fine School of Arts, and used to paint - so much so that his house is strewn with his works. His place is also totally awesome. His main room has an enormous mirror and a perfect solid wooden floor for dancing on.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhFDBto6Ug0cJyK5V0zyIJVIDedlQi3BDObNri7gv6zw9Tid0TRpcnxM_JcXD-YdJ2Zp0DkmoUxqEVYl4IcKTacd7XmeZaBJ5oz7FLAE2DyrvZPZI5FmEcLGGr2xmBas1wge67NSfdas/s1600/DSC02635.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhFDBto6Ug0cJyK5V0zyIJVIDedlQi3BDObNri7gv6zw9Tid0TRpcnxM_JcXD-YdJ2Zp0DkmoUxqEVYl4IcKTacd7XmeZaBJ5oz7FLAE2DyrvZPZI5FmEcLGGr2xmBas1wge67NSfdas/s320/DSC02635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679413404047216882" border="0" /></a><br />After a couple minutes of dancing, Damian sets about picking apart various issues I have. Doing the basic figure called the sandwich (wherein the leader closes his feet over one of his partner's, performing a kind of 180 turn and ending up on the other side), he noticed that I'm switching my weight too soon. You should always "plant" your partner before doing any particular movement to avoid losing balance and falling over like a prat.<br /><br />As (sort of) said before "leader" and "follower" is misleading when talking about the actual actions. As a leader, you aren't just dragging your partner about where you so please. You have to "invite" the movement and, if she accepts, you follow *her* and *then* lead her - if that makes any sense. It's not so much caveman "me - go; you - follow". It's more "My darling, would you kindly accompany me on this horse drawn carriage and we can hold the reins together?" You're also translating this idea into your hips. I know this analogy makes no sense.<br /><br />MOVING ON. The next chief issue was contact in the open and close embrace, and switching between the two. Problem with open was pressure in right hand on shoulder blade, problem with close was the lack of support by the right hand and the elbow interfering. Also, breathing out at the end of a figure.<br /><br />Figures worked on included ocho cortado (walking around leg to pretty much force it into a cross), entrada/salida(?) with the left after a cross leading into a forward ocho with another entrada/salida on the right, step to the left placing right foot between partner's (thick in the middle!) turning their hips with the foot (and a bit of the upper body) closing feet and shortcutting into a cross, step to the left switch weight into a sandwich contact on the shins don't lean away from partner, back step with right sidestep left plant both feet lead partner into cross system and follow into a cross. Most figures focused on simply closing the feet, rather than trying to keep step with the partner. <span style="font-weight: bold;">[Editor's note: upon review of this it makes no sense.]</span><br /><br />Always the whole time in close embrace maintaining pressure on chest (but not too much! opening and closing doors!). Bad habit of side-stepping on my part.<br /><br />Try to pick up suit on return home - still not ready, should be tomorrow. Back at flat, sunbathe for a bit. Snooze. Zhenya brings me money (woohoo!). Milonga later. Hopefully it won't stink like last night's.<br /><br />Meh. Knocked Germany and Austria off the list. Returned home early, getting too busy. I think I'll go to Villa Malcolm tomorrow like last week. Good crowd there the last time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 10 Miercoles Milonga</span><br /><br />Class with Damian at noon. Focus on milonga style music. Three styles of music are danced to in Argentine tango: tango, waltz (3/4), and milonga (kind of 2/4 but over the course of 8 beats with stress on the 1st, 4th, 5th and 7th - not to mention an alternative 3-beat syncopation). Milonga therefore is faster. Quicker, smaller steps required. Learned five figures in total (consult scrawled notes made in coffee shop afterwards ad memoriam, might be able to force Anton into teaching them back home). Maybe tackle waltz tomorrow.<br /><br />Despite recommendation, nearby coffee shop did not boast best of service. Finally acquired tailored suit. Set me back some 700 pesos in total (divide by 4-ish for price in dollars). Fabulous new shoes the other day cost me about 550 pesos.<br /><br />Tried to go to another group class in afternoon, place was bare except for one couple, turns out dude giving private class, listing is out of date. Consult El Tangauta magazine more carefully next time.<br /><br />Eat at another restaurant dad recommended <span style="font-weight: bold;">[Editor's note: wrong one entirely, but still good]</span>. Called El Establo. Large hunk of cow again. Will gladly fly halfway across the world again for meat of that quality.<br /><br />Contemplating another milonga to break suit in. Another glass of malbec is required for decision-making.<br /><br />What a waste of taxi time, at least I got a free ticket to Friday milonga at the place. Armenian cultural center is not that good a venue.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 11 Thursday Waltzing</span><br /><br />Didn't sleep at all. People like making noise in this city. Short blasts of sunbathing for barely half an hour has left me red. Sun is very strong here. Wash other clothes. Too hot and stuffy.<br /><br />Class in evening with Damian. Nearly turn up late because of traffic. I suggest a waltz figure. Damian takes it and expands on it. Also sacada followed by in-step for follower into a cross.<br /><br />Main focus was on the lapis and how I should (probably) be getting used to the idea of returning to the neutral position. Consult post-session scrawled notes for fuzzy details. Damian says I should bring my camera tomorrow, so we'll record every figure we've done this week. Will probably post this as a second part of the diaries on Friday<span style="font-weight: bold;"> [Editor's note: fat chance]</span>.<br /><br />Small party at Mike's tonight.<br /><br />Party is great fun. Heading to milonga tomorrow at Fundacion Tango Argentino (hopefully).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 12 Filming Friday</span><br /><br />Taxi to Damian's is a bit messed up. Slightly psychotic old git who at one point was humming really off-key to Radiohead (no, seriously). Swerved dangerously in front of everyone. Arrive in one piece. Definitely more terrifying than Moscow. <span style="font-weight: bold;">[Editor's note: Mike told me at one point that Buenos Aires has one of the highest car accident fatalities in the world.]</span><br /><br />Get camera set up, no need to scribble down notes, except for the title of my new favourite milonga track called "Papas Calientes" (literally "hot potatoes") by Juan D'Arienzo. Class is pretty draining. Crappy lunch in nearby cafe again. Now in possession of about 50 minutes of footage that may or may not cause the netbook to explode during the transfer :/ At least now I have a record of the major stuff.<br /><br />Milonga starts at 10-ish. I have been informed that I should go to the venue Confiteria Ideal at some point. Apparently it's famous *shrug*<br /><br />Milonga at Fundacion totally blows. Small and very stuffy. Head to La Catedral to meet Mike & co. Ends up being awesome. Live orchestra in attendance with some French beatboxer joining them as part of his "tour" (or whatever the announcer said). Whirled a Polish girl about for a bit in front of the crowd. Almost certainly photos of me on some website now somewhere making an arse out of myself. Eventually in bed at about 4ish?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 13 Moar souvenirs</span><br /><br />Didn't sleep for shit. Apparently, if I understood Andrey correctly, 16 people were stuck in the lift. The max is 6, so I probably misheard that figure <span style="font-weight: bold;">[Editor's note: no, this is actually correct upon chatting to the parties in question later]</span>. Either way, they certainly spent half the night banging the elevator in an attempt to move/escape. Allegedly somewhere between the 3rd and 4th floor they managed to crawl out.<br /><br />Afternoon we head to La Boca. Birthplace of tango allegedly (photos somewhere), so big on tourist shite.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfl_lQv0VYWspG1U-BNULdB8-uCIz7Z-yOLMkSAoo-Eco10-ci7yUITT8jDpnwDjOPXdoiq59h8x8RbjQnCqJ89gy_XOmMNHO7bjzf79v_4mL9Z3xFrI57yUX_oA6d2cQpNwhYlU6w5M/s1600/DSC02658.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfl_lQv0VYWspG1U-BNULdB8-uCIz7Z-yOLMkSAoo-Eco10-ci7yUITT8jDpnwDjOPXdoiq59h8x8RbjQnCqJ89gy_XOmMNHO7bjzf79v_4mL9Z3xFrI57yUX_oA6d2cQpNwhYlU6w5M/s320/DSC02658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679414497183302210" border="0" /></a><br />More Russians have arrived to the group. Buy some fridge magnets. Lunch involves a huge amount of meat.<br /><br /><object height="284" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KkUr0xj0E7g?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KkUr0xj0E7g?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="284" width="500"></embed></object><br /><br />Everyone else is tired in the evening. Shrug my shoulders - stuff it - and head out to Villa Malcolm on Cordoba by myself. I only came here for three things anyway. Good dances. Knocked Korea off the list. Left after a sort of half-time interval that involved a pretty shit hot Korean dude in a suit pulling off an impressive milonga routine. Taxi driver there was Danny Trejo's long lost brother. Taxi back was another fucking psychopath who I'm pretty sure spent more time looking at his GPS than the road itself. Radio played Flash Gordon at one point. Uh huh.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 14 Sunday... uhh... sort of sucked</span><br /><br />Knackered from last night. Wander off to local supermarket called Disco to buy lunch and a couple of beers on a whim, which completely knock me out for the rest of the afternoon. Napping is the worst. Wake up feeling like crap. Bump into other Russians, ask if they wanna milonga later tonight. Anton *finally* arrives (yet to see him, he's probably tired). At about 10pm the sky decides to piss its pants, so the milonga idea goes out the window (I wasn't about to ruin my new good shoes).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 15 Penultimonday!</span><br /><br />Wake up earlyish. Actually kinda breezy outside. Use weird washing machine again. Halfheartedly begin prepping for tomorrow, which is when I leave. Class with Damian this afternoon, possibly meeting Mike one more time before I head off. We grab a quick cafe con leche before my final session with Mr. Essel. I ask him to focus on steps and balance. Enlightening lecture on extreme subtleties of the step follows, which I can barely wrap my head around. It all makes sense, but putting it into practice is a whole other ball game.<br /><br />Phone runs out of credit. Thankfully bump into Zhenya and Anton at coffee shop around the corner. Milonga is unfathomably shit. Some sort of stupid referees. Should have gone to Confiteria Ideal. There's always next year.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day 16 YAY INTERNATIONAL FLIGHTS</span><br /><br />Wake up, pack up, Anton summons me to the roof to drink far too much beer in the blazing midday sun, then we go and buy nine pairs of women's shoes for me to take back home. Because that's, like, y'know, normal.<br /><br />We lunch at some place called Meridian 58 not far from the apartment, which serves an amazing steak with some sort of pumpkin salsa. And more wine and beer.<br /><br />Get my shit together, head for airport. Get the luggage wrapped up in clingfilm by one of those stupid devices for about twenty dollars, which is probably a lot less harder and cheaper than if you attempted to do so yourself in the kitchen. Seems sensible, considering the footwear I'm packin'.<br /><br />Flight is incredibly delayed, but it's not so bad as it means the layover in Madrid won't stink as much. What's four hours, really, in the grand scheme of things? Look at trinkets. I eat some sort of excuse for a sandwich, which may or may not be the death of me. If I don't make it back to Moscow, I demand vengeance. There is a passenger wandering about whose eyelids look like they have been doing drugs since the 80s.<br /><br />Little in the way to alleviate the sheer dullness of a four hour delay. Allegedly some sort of volcano warning.<br /><br />Flight takes off, huuuuuuge airbus. Exhausted at this point.<br /><br />Periodically re-open notebook to review footage from Damian's class. Sandwich from BsAs' airport still hasn't claimed my life. I am a god.<br /><br />Get to Madrid, eat a burger, pay exorbitant sum for internet, yay skype and that boingo access thing. In spite of 4 hour twiddling of thumbs in EZE, there's still another 5 to go here in Barajas.<br /><br />Gate changes about three times. Shitty airbus this time around. Very cramped <span style="font-weight: bold;">[Editor's note: Russians have this horrendous habit of buying every single item in duty free and completely overloading the baggage lockers]</span>. Nevertheless, the flight back from Shanghai has yet to be beaten. Food sucks, but Iberia are an okay company. Next time I'm booking my own flight with someone else.<br /><br />Land in Moscow. Some sort of clusterfuck with the immigration thing. System has changed recently in that you no longer have to smudge your name across a crappy slip of paper that could be easily reproduced, they print them out instead with the necessary info filled in. All very well until the printer breaks or the computer crashes.<br /><br />Get through, barely recognize my bag as it's shrink wrapped in green plastic, but I think it's mine. I hope. I'll be in trouble if it isn't.<br /><br />Manage to waltz from one end of the airport to the other to get the express on time. I am typing this on the train to Paveletskaya Station. Almost thirty hours have passed since I set foot in Buenos Aires' airport. It is -10 degrees.<br /><br />Welcome home.</div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-34936553503031996872011-11-15T01:54:00.002+04:002011-11-15T04:32:04.598+04:00Buenos Diaries Pt. 1<div><div><div><div align="justify"><div><div>The following is a <em>really bad</em> attempt at keeping a brief account of my time here in Argentina. Why is it brief? I want to make it seem as though I am too busy with hot sexy milongeuras and only have the opportunity to type with one hand because I'm dragging some girl to the dance floor with the other. Normally this process of writing takes me far longer than it does for you to read it. This time around I'm just opening notepad and hammering down whatever I thought was funny. Expect gibberish and garbled syntax. Here's the first week.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div><strong>Day 1 Flight to BA<br /></strong></div><div><br />[Joining me on my journey is Andrey, also at the same school as me, and Irina, who is from Nizhny Novgorod. Due to personal matters, Anton's arrival is delayed by about ten days :( The whole thing will last some 15 days]<br /></div><div><br />Delayed at Moscow Domodedovo airport by one hour. Flights to Central Asian states aplenty, meaning there are Tajiks and Uzbeks everywhere. For some extremely weird reason - might have been the breakfast omelette - I break into a vicious sweat for about ten minutes and nearly vomit on the way to Madrid. Bought some swiss mega-adapter, so my camera and netbook will be with me throughout this little jaunt halfway across the world. Despite delay, arrive in perfect time for boarding. 12 hours of sitting about lie ahead. I really need a drink for this.<br /></div><div><br />Nowhere near as bad as return flight from Shanghai, during which I had no netbook and nearly went nuts. Iberia are okay. Steer clear of the moussaka, and the red wine is like grape juice.<br /><br /></div><div>No problems getting through immigration (unless you're Canadian, American or Australian). Zhenya, our guide, meets us with a driver. It is a muggy 24 degrees on our arrival.<br /></div><div><br />A forty minute drive gets us to our apartment building, which is in the swanky district of Palermo. Flat is sparse, but towels and soap are in abundance. Zhenya gives me a SIM card and we discuss other stuff.<br /><br /></div><div>I don't have any shampoo, this is my hair.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyZq6NO4zhGYY3yExPxRZb37Ic0JFwPZZEO38N_YJ2DknupHJIJaNIRaq4tJGMC5pkdMR3R2YOdOX2QCghSDbnOZorD9Jbpp08uCmHDEK8NJ2MkcSnk3us8mb_BGYDThZj-1pzShP6Xw/s1600/DSC02572.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675000940625731506" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyZq6NO4zhGYY3yExPxRZb37Ic0JFwPZZEO38N_YJ2DknupHJIJaNIRaq4tJGMC5pkdMR3R2YOdOX2QCghSDbnOZorD9Jbpp08uCmHDEK8NJ2MkcSnk3us8mb_BGYDThZj-1pzShP6Xw/s320/DSC02572.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><strong><br />Day 2 Welcome to BA<br /></strong></div><div><br />Wake up, hair is still a disheveled clump on my head. It rained last night. View from my balcony.<br /><br /><object width="500" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SUOPCNSU_J0?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SUOPCNSU_J0?version=3&hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="284"></embed></object></div><div> </div><div><br />Trees lining the street are somewhat of a novelty for me, having spent 3 years wandering Moscow's dusty pavements.<br /></div><div><br />Meet my fellow milonguero/as for breakfast. One of them is having a couple of medialunas (lit. half-moons). A medialuna is a sweet croissant. </div><div> </div><div><br />Stood in dog shit. Bought new tango shoes, very fancy. Tailored suit and trousers incoming next week. We drink two bottles of malbec over lunch. Beef is glorious. Shopping now. Wait, it's raining. Supermarket is called Disco. Try to take money out from ATM with my card, doesn't work - mostly due to the fact that I was guessing which friggin' button I needed to push. Credit card still works at the till.<br /></div><div><br />Chill for the afternoon. Milonga in the evening. Didn't have glasses, couldn't see shit <strong>[Editor's note: Eye contact is vital during such events]</strong>, still had some good dances, new shoes kick ass, nuts half-time performance by a professional couple, left my goddamn wallet on the table like a knobend, Andrey looked at my wallet and then at me as if I was a knobend when I came back to the table (quite rightly so).<br /></div><div><strong><br />Day 3 Settling in<br /></strong></div><div><br />Drag my ass out of bed. Lost my key, duh. Ended up leaving it in the door, security guard took it. Sheepishly march to admin, lady puts fear of god into me "someone could have come into your apartment!" even though there's a glass security door, a guard monitoring it, and five stories separating me from any potential bandito.<br /></div><div><br />Call Mike. Meet for coffee outside, reminisce, talk about dogs, head back to his for lunch with his girlfriend. Sunburned. Ouch.<br /></div><div><br />Another milonga tonight - hopefully getting dinner with Andrey and Ira. Beef!<br /></div><div><br />No beef, huge chunk of salmon instead. White wine.<br /></div><div><br />Milonga in old dance hall. Not as good as yesterday's. Ironically most of the people I danced with weren't Argentine at all. Italian, English, Asian/Australian, Danish and I forget who else. Get home at about 3 AM<br /></div><div><strong><br />Day 4 Friday hangover<br /></strong></div><div><br />Wake up feeling like crap. Need to get washing powder. Washing powder aquired. Washing machine sucks, gonna resort to hand washing shit from now on <strong>[Editor's note: He doesn't]</strong>.<br /><br />Cook pasta. Eat far too much ice cream because freezer is too small. Oops.<br /></div><div><br />Heading out for class and milonga. Class lasts two hours. Milonga straight after. Not particularly wild on one of the movements that was focused on, which was a sort of amagi/kunita for the milonguera and a perpendicular side step for the partner.<br /></div><div><br />Class made all the better by the presence of Fernanda, whose embrace I shall not forget for quite some time. Instructor guy was a teensy bit too flashy for my liking. Cool beard, though.<br /></div><div><br />Milonga afterwards involved two encounters with Argentineans, a Japanese and Bulgarian. Head home early because dance floor gets way too packed, and have no patience to wait another hour for it to calm down. Bottle of Terrazas Malbec waits for me at home.<br /></div><div><strong><br />Day 5 Just Saturday<br /></strong></div><div><br />Sunbathe only a short while considering how red I turned in such a brief space of time the other day. Venture out on a little walk for an hour or so. End up on some main road (Avenue of the Liberator?)<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0S-rbiLAo3TA8kHWldW8jxFXG2nFbs5vsUAJqwG1CJ7ZUR72vTwKxG7ZPZiVtVesZ_LUCK_9w2oocPgbNWwmNt4Om9MKT70oBZABEdvZjk6mZ6HTGoG-ZImpCZfSw_3H5njG2c8u6lug/s1600/DSC02583.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675002886532976546" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0S-rbiLAo3TA8kHWldW8jxFXG2nFbs5vsUAJqwG1CJ7ZUR72vTwKxG7ZPZiVtVesZ_LUCK_9w2oocPgbNWwmNt4Om9MKT70oBZABEdvZjk6mZ6HTGoG-ZImpCZfSw_3H5njG2c8u6lug/s320/DSC02583.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br />with loads of trees and stuff everywhere.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjsMaBSSGZBBqdKzkaZMAywgQpu2bzSB7jlV3mVB6SKQwYO7OSiAsgd5ItG4uhKxiRmI5l4TC_UD4a2dHopu2cWZoV_MbpX80lXhBVCyeuTwyanGgj_aBqdVpk8MlQE_-2iE7RMlaHTo/s1600/DSC02585.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675008887395652482" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjsMaBSSGZBBqdKzkaZMAywgQpu2bzSB7jlV3mVB6SKQwYO7OSiAsgd5ItG4uhKxiRmI5l4TC_UD4a2dHopu2cWZoV_MbpX80lXhBVCyeuTwyanGgj_aBqdVpk8MlQE_-2iE7RMlaHTo/s320/DSC02585.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br />Take a few snaps. Wander into some coffee shop by the zoo, order a chocolate alfajore which is similar-ish to Halva.<br /><div><br />Waiting on early class tonight. Weekends are down time for milongas and lessons. If I can't get a personal instructor sorted tonight, gonna end up traipsing across the whole city next week to as many group classes as possible, if only for the fact that the quality of partners here is incredible compared to Moscow.<br /></div><div><br />Turned up hour late for class (listing was incorrect). Met Damian Eselin. Apparently I'll be having a private lesson or two with him.<br /></div><div><br />Milonga is a bit weak, but of all things Damian and his partner Nancy (along with another pair) are performing at this club. Rather than talk about the fact that it was not a young crowd in the slightest, I have videos of all their routines. Joy of joys is that the wifi in the apartment building is brill, and my upload speed is through the roof (sort of). Certainly way faster than Moscow. Anyway, enjoy.<br /><br /><object width="500" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qbbEXUWNj5c?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qbbEXUWNj5c?version=3&hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="284"></embed></object><br /></div><div> </div><div><br />There's a whole bunch more on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/dudeglove">my youtube channel.</a></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong><br />Day 6 Souvenir Sunday?<br /></strong></div><strong></strong><strong></strong><div><br />Hang around flat til midday. Call Anton. Go to Parque Centenario to meet Mike. Eat a chorizo hot dog thing. Eat a churro. Eat some cake handed out by a couple of girls. "Spitting" trees. Attempt to buy souvenirs from flea market. End up settling on a set of nail clippers.<br /></div><div><br />Drink a bottle of Quilmes local beer. Nothing exceptional. Might try and eat at the french brasserie tonight that my dad recommended. </div><div> </div><div><br />A glorious chunk of cow is preceeded by a red tuna carpaccio. Creme caramel to finish. Wine with all three courses. I am full.</div><div> </div><div><br />=====</div><div> </div><div><br />Next time: the lessons with Damian begin...</div></div></div></div></div></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-64342490503424757572011-11-03T13:39:00.008+04:002011-11-05T14:18:51.794+04:00Winter Is Coming<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XdP6Lp2ceqY/TBWLXDjQeZI/AAAAAAAAT6c/cfTyC1by8Uc/s1600/eddard.PNG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 487px; height: 446px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XdP6Lp2ceqY/TBWLXDjQeZI/AAAAAAAAT6c/cfTyC1by8Uc/s1600/eddard.PNG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Did you know Game of Thrones (Игра пристолов - <span style="font-style: italic;">Ee-gra pri-stall-ov</span>) is actually filmed in Belfast? Came as a surprise to me. Great show all the same. Like Lord of the Rings (Властелин колец - <span style="font-style: italic;">Vlah-stel</span>-<span style="font-style: italic;">in koh-lets</span>), but taking out the twaddle about magic and elves and replacing it with everyone constantly shagging each other or stabbing each other in the back. Sometimes both. What's this got to do with Russia? Not much. I just felt like putting Sean Bean's face up there, because the poor bloke gets an awful lot of flak.<br /><br />The reason I have not posted in a while is due to various external factors and, while we are at it, why not blame the weather (погода - <span style="font-style: italic;">po-go-da</span>) too for its sharp seasonal turn about? So far it has been mildly wavering above zero (нуль - <span style="font-style: italic;">knool</span>), teasing the local population (население -<span style="font-style: italic;"> nah-si-len-i-ye</span>) before it decides to nosedive.<br /><br />It might be worthwhile re-naming this blog Everything Tango. I have become so dedicated to both it and the school (школа - <span style="font-style: italic;">sh-kawl-ah</span>) that I am now turning into some sort of teaching assistant. If there is a lack of leaders or followers - the politically-correct term for guys and girls - for the beginner classes, on more than one occasion I have been invited to stay behind to help out.<br /><br />This is by no means a bad thing, because I am now getting an insight into what it's like to dance as a follower - or, more romantically in Russian, a партнерша (<span style="font-style: italic;">part-nyor-sha</span>). The leader is known as партнер (<span style="font-style: italic;">part-nyor</span>). That <span style="font-style: italic;">sha</span> you see at the end is a common method of feminizing a Russian noun, and the end result is that it actually sounds much more romantic. "Leader and Follower" has a sense of imbalance. "Two partners" on the other hand touches upon the very heart of the dance.<br /><br />So that is what has mostly been the focus in the past three months - outside of work and personal life, which I cannot post about because they have been so exciting that blogger alone would not be able to contain it.<br /><br />What I <span style="font-style: italic;">can </span>say, without causing the Internet to explode, is that I went back to Ireland (Ирландия <span style="font-style: italic;">Eer-lan-di-ya</span>) in August (Август - <span style="font-style: italic;">ahv-goost</span>) for my birthday. Upon my return I celebrated with another Leo (Лев <span style="font-style: italic;">- Lyev</span>) in tango tradition at the school, wherein everybody takes turns to dance with the birthday boy or girl.<br /><br /><object height="284" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cnkfJU0o5uQ?version=3&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cnkfJU0o5uQ?version=3&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="284" width="500"></embed></object><br /><br />In defence of my then-terrible dancing, I had just gotten off the plane the day before and hadn't practised in a week.<br /><br />And what's the end result of all this? I am heading to Buenos Aires next week on a sort of pilgrimage for a fortnight. Expect photos (фотки <span style="font-style: italic;">foht-ki</span>) and videos (роллики - <span style="font-style: italic;">rawl-ee-ki</span>) of me eating beef, drinking red wine, and dreadful attempts at speaking the Spanish language (испанский язык - <span style="font-style: italic;">Ee-span-ski yih-sikh</span>).<br /><br />Oh and maybe dancing.<br /><br /><br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-45329257835683711922011-07-05T19:16:00.004+04:002011-07-05T19:58:42.202+04:00All We Hear Is...<div style="text-align: justify;">Instead of writing another entry, I decided to go on radio to talk for longer than I would spend jotting something down here. It was for Voice of Russia, which is kind of like the Motherland's version of the BBC World Service in that it broadcasts across the globe in many languages. I took part in the program "Home from Home", the host of which interviews English-speaking foreigners who now live and work in Moscow.<br /><br />You can either follow the following link to the site to listen to it there, or download the 25-minute show <a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/data/2011/07/04/1253557922/HOME%20FROM%20HOME%20_34_glover.mp3">by clicking here</a> (or right-click and click "save as..."). Try to ignore the musical intermissions (unless, of course, you like samba), and the fact that I sound like a bit of a twerp in places.<br /></div><br /><br /><div class="for_title"> <h1 style="margin-top:0px; color:#000000; font-family:Verdana; font-size:14px; ">Home from Home</h1></div><div style="margin-top:10px; border-bottom:1px dotted #7F7F7F; color:#black; font-family:Arial; font-size:11px; padding-bottom:15px;">Tags: <a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/world/" style="color:#black; font-family:Arial; font-size:11px; font-weight: bold; text-decoration:none; ">World</a>, <a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/radio/" style="color:#black; font-family:Arial; font-size:11px; font-weight: bold; text-decoration:none; ">Radio</a>, <a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/russia/" style="color:#black; font-family:Arial; font-size:11px; font-weight: bold; text-decoration:none; ">Russia</a> </div> <table style="margin-top:5px;" width="100%"> <tbody><tr> <td valign="top"> <div style="font-family:Arial; color:#000000; font-size:11px; padding-bottom:10px; "> Sam Gerrans </div> </td> <td align="right" valign="top"> <div style="font-family:Arial; font-size:11px; color:#000000; "> 3.07.2011, 10:58 </div> </td> </tr> <tr> <td style="" colspan="2" valign="top"> <div style="font-family:Verdana; color:#000000; font-size:12px;"> Benjamin Glover is from Northern Ireland. His school, unusual for Northern Ireland at that time, offered Russian, which he studied. He liked the language and went on to study Russian at university. After university he came out to Moscow three years ago and now works as a Style Editor at Russia Today. He has a range of interests and especially enjoys learning tango. </div> <div style="font-family:Arial; font-size:13px; padding-top:10px;"> <a href="http://english.ruvr.ru/radio_broadcast/34857244/52544624.html">Читать далее</a> </div> <div style="font-family:Arial; font-size:13px; padding-top:10px;"> <b>Source: <a target="_blank" href="http://english.ruvr.ru/"> Voice of Russia</a>. </b> </div> </td> </tr> </tbody></table>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-15234203257065582992011-06-10T00:34:00.005+04:002011-06-10T00:51:01.663+04:00Fabulous Fantastic Fast Furious Facetious Five<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; " >It's been both slow and busy for the past couple of months. Slow because of various factors (it's becoming too damn hot/humid for one) and busy because I can barely stop myself from going to tango class nearly every day. Seriously, we're talking 2-3 hours here during school nights, and I haven't even been to a milonga yet.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">Part of the reason for this is because an Argentine maestro called Daniel Tuero (who has about 30 years of experience under his belt) came to visit last month for a three day seminar, so I decided to get as many classes in as possible in order to learn as much as I could. There's a whole bunch of vids of him on YouTube you can find. This is from a Moscow trip back in 2009.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><iframe width="500" height="314" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0QdGZnV6-60?hd=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Unfortunately the seminar wasn't the greatest in the world, as the overall skill level of attendees wasn't particularly advanced (продвинутая </span><i style="font-family: arial; ">pro-dvi-noo-ta-ya</i><span class="Apple-style-span">), meaning Tuero had to keep things relatively simple. What </span><i style="font-family: arial; ">was</i><span class="Apple-style-span"> great, though, is that I booked a private lesson (индивидуальный урок </span><i style="font-family: arial; ">in-dee-vid-you-al-ni ooh-rock</i><span class="Apple-style-span">) with him.</span></span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">Yet as with any person who has studied or performed some sort of activity for far too many years, it was more of a philosophy lecture than me learning how to do something stupid like a backflip (those don't occur during normal dances anyway). Even though this is a no-brainer, Daniel pretty much reiterated that "it takes two to tango."</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span">In other words, after watching me dance for a while, he explained that I wasn't thinking about my partner. On paper doing this is pretty obvious; in practice it </span><i style="font-family: arial; ">can</i><span class="Apple-style-span"> be quite hard, because there's a great tendency to want to show off and flick your legs around like a pillock - all the while ignoring the fact that you may not be leading properly, or that you're holding her in an uncomfortable manner, or that your posture is off, or that you're not even paying attention to her at all. I am guilty on all of these points.</span></span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">=======</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span">In other news I flagrantly abused my connections with another one of my friends and invited myself along to the Fast Five (Форсаж 5 </span><i style="font-family: arial; ">Fore-sazh</i> <i style="font-family: arial; ">Pyat</i><span class="Apple-style-span">) press premiere at Moscow's Oktyabr theatre, which is pretty much the major cinema in the center of Moscow, located on the Novy Arbat. Why would I do such a thing, you might ask? Two words: Vin. Diesel.</span></span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; "><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E_q-ufTbo1wG_q5RhKerMwaLQWzApUzjmKb5MvwoWioawgYlZhWgX-2aq4NYu00-TJx_IdbhS2VVOkl7zU3UoSB6zTQwHHOkujJuCr4gaH6vWrc3e565PryT3T-skK83x4tjnBILKAk/s1600/fastfive.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E_q-ufTbo1wG_q5RhKerMwaLQWzApUzjmKb5MvwoWioawgYlZhWgX-2aq4NYu00-TJx_IdbhS2VVOkl7zU3UoSB6zTQwHHOkujJuCr4gaH6vWrc3e565PryT3T-skK83x4tjnBILKAk/s320/fastfive.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616323811946119874" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; "><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">Excuse the lighting on this video, the cinema was a bit dark at the time, but the audio is fine.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><iframe width="500" height="314" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/f1yRSxA8qpw?hd=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">Tagging along were first-timer Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (of WWF fame) and regular co-star Paul Walker. As you can see in the video, it's kind of ironic that, despite The Rock's penchant for theatrics in his previous career, it was Vin Diesel who was hyping it up.</div></span><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; ">But what was even <i>more </i>bizarre was the fact that the person interpreting for the three was Dmitry Glukhovsky, who is the famous sci-fi author of the Metro 2033 series of books. In the video he introduces himself (in Russian) along the lines of "Well, yeah, I'm more known for writing those books - but I also like fast cars!" (In truth he's worked a bunch with Universal Pictures in the past helping out with localization).<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; ">As for the film itself, it's completely stupid. Totally and utterly <i>utterly </i>stupid. In a good way. I really haven't laughed so goddamn hard in the cinema in quite some time. Fast & Furious films are not high art by any means, and they don't pretend to be. It has also toppled 300 from the podium of "most homoerotic endeavor on the silver screen" too. I'm mildly concerned about Vin Diesel's physical condition, though, because in the film he looks terrible - and not as a result of his acting abilities.</div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial; ">And that "hint" Vin Diesel is referring to in the video? Yeah, they're shooting Fast 6 here.</div></span>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-46506832564992036972011-03-25T17:14:00.003+03:002011-03-26T22:23:57.158+03:00What's In A Name?<div style="text-align: justify;">As with most large cities, the origin behind the name of Russia's capital is rife with different theories. Most folk tend to point towards the principal feature of Moscow (Москва - <span style="font-style: italic;">Massk-va</span>, the stress being on the first syllable <b>edit: no it's not, it's on the second, whoops! If a vowel in Russian isn't stressed, then it's not pronounced the way it should. So, for example, an unstressed "o" sounds like "ah"</b>) - its river, which is called the Moskva River. Naming a city according to its proximity to a geographical feature isn't exactly inspired. Regardless, what's the root of Москва?<br /><br />According to some ancient Baltic languages (possibly Mordovian or Finno-Ugric), Москва could have come - via a slight mutation - from their words for 'dark' or 'muddy'. Another simply points to 'bear-river'. However, I was told a far more entertaining tale the other day regarding the origin of Москва. But first a little preamble.<br /><br />In 1147, Prince Yury Dolgoruky of Rostov founded what would be later known as Moscow and set up a wooden kremlin there (кремль <span style="font-style: italic;">krem-l</span>). Nowadays when you say the word Kremlin, most folk will associate it as the center of Russian government. What it actually means is something close to the word 'fortress'. Even though it got burned down a couple of times, Moscow has always had its kremlin in the same place.<br /><br />So, if we believe my friend's account, Dolgoruky for whatever reason allegedly had an obsession with the word мост (<span style="font-style: italic;">mawst</span>) or 'bridge'. It's not exactly a complete stretch of the imagination, there's a great big river there, and the prince probably did want a bridge. Over time, Dolgoruky kept saying мост, eventually leading to him dropping the 't' from the word.<br /><br />Then, one day, while he was standing by the river, a frog (лягушка - <span style="font-style: italic;">lya-goosh-ka</span>) leapt up the bank and croaked. Seeing as this was a Slavic frog, he did not 'ribbit'. In Russian, the onomatopaeia for a frog's croak is квак (<span style="font-style: italic;">kvak</span>). Dogs (собака - <span style="font-style: italic;">soh-bah-ka</span>), incidentally, do not go woof, they go гаф-гаф (<span style="font-style: italic;">gaff-gaff</span>); pigs (свиня - <span style="font-style: italic;">sveen-yah</span>) go хрунь (<span style="font-style: italic;">khroon</span>); horses (лошадь - <span style="font-style: italic;">low-shad</span>) go огого (<span style="font-style: italic;">oh-go-go</span>); but cats (кот - <span style="font-style: italic;">cot</span>) still go miaow regardless of language.<br /><br />Dolgoruky's "мос" and the frog's "квак" came together in that moment, and thus was born Москва.<br /><br />====<br /><br />In other news, spring has decided to rear its slush-coloured head. Proof of this was demonstrated beautifully by a coworker, who suddenly noticed that his wristwatch actually had a glow-in-the-dark dial. It had been so gloomy over the past few months that it simply wasn't absorbing any light until now.<br /><br />Tango continues unabated. There was a special concert a couple of weekends ago at the Central House of Artists, during which the instructors of the school I go to performed.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AbwMhFywoAg" allowfullscreen="" width="500" frameborder="0" height="311"></iframe><br /><br />Also performing were two Argentine maestros, Omar Caceres and Vidala Barboza, who stole the show (sorry, Anton). The way they moved so fluidly on stage pretty much confirms that all they do in Buenos Aires is just drink and shag. Apologies for the autofocus on this one; my camera had a mind of its own for the first 20 seconds.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wUXwGQVPNYQ" allowfullscreen="" width="500" frameborder="0" height="311"></iframe><br /><br />There are more videos from the event on youtube, which you can find by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=F92E98473C539600">clicking this link</a>.</div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-55972623792465240432011-01-31T22:14:00.003+03:002011-02-13T22:43:03.744+03:00Swim City<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;">No man drowns if he perseveres in praying to God, and can swim.</span><br />- Russian proverb<br /></span></blockquote>Until last weekend I haven't been swimming (плавание <span style="font-style: italic;">plah-van-i-yeh</span>) in at least two years. This is mostly due to the fact that I banjaxed my shoulder, effectively putting an end to any front crawl (кроль <span style="font-style: italic;">k-rawl</span>) shenanigans, but I can still do the breast stroke (брасс <span style="font-style: italic;">brass</span>) without any major repercussions. So where other than overpriced fitness centres can one go for a dip in the Russian capital, I hear you cry?<br /><br />Well, there are far worse places than <a href="http://www.chayka-sport.ru/">Чайка</a> (<span style="font-style: italic;">Chai-ka</span> lit. "seagull"), which is an open-air swimming pool (бассейн <span style="font-style: italic;">bah-say'n</span>). Unfortunately, finding a decent picture of the complex is difficult, mostly because it shares its name with a rather famous - and incredibly depressing - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seagull">play by Anton Chekhov</a>. Fortunately, Google maps comes to the rescue.<br /><br /><iframe marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=55.736208,37.597221&spn=0.0018,0.005681&t=h&z=18&output=embed" width="425" frameborder="0" height="350" scrolling="no"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=55.736208,37.597221&spn=0.0018,0.005681&t=h&z=18&source=embed" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255); text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br /><br />What you might <span style="font-style: italic;">also</span> be asking is why on earth is someone going to an open-air swimming <span style="font-weight: bold;">in the middle of a Russian winter? </span>To that I don't really have an answer. I have a picture, though, courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexbaranov/">Alexander Baranov's flickr account</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2644/4252386946_1259a1566d.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2644/4252386946_1259a1566d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Admittedly the temperature at the time that photo was taken was -20 at night. The coldest I've been there was when it was roughly -10 two weekends ago. And no, the pool is not -10, it's about +25 in the water.<br /><br />Typical of Russian bureaucracy, in order to actually use the pool, you need to go and get something called a медицинская справка (<span style="font-style: italic;">med-it-sin-sky-ya sprav-kah</span>) which is a doctor's certificate.<br /><br />Fortunately, you don't need to go to some small hovel on the other side of the city for the scrap of paper that gets handed out for nearly everything and would probably be simple enough to falsify. There's a special office inside the complex where three ladies sit doing nothing but processing said scraps of paper and taking people's blood pressure all day. A few more form-signings and payments at the cashier later, one eventually gets to the changing rooms, which is where things start to get <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> Soviet.<br /><br />First off you have to forfeit your медицинская справка to someone sitting in a small booth in exchange for a locker token (don't worry, you get it back later). Once you find your locker, you'll be presented with an odd sight.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Unlike a typical coin-operated lock and key mechanism found elsewhere, Chaika's lockers have four dials on them, both on the inside and the outside of the locker door. On the inside you clunk the dials into whatever code you want - which you later match on the outside to open it. Obviously you don't have the dials on the outside be the same as the ones on the inside, but the trick is trying to remember whatever 4 digit code you came up with. On the upside it means you don't have to worry about having to dive down three meters to get your key from the deep end.<br /><br /></div>Now I hope you brought a plastic bag (пакет <span style="font-style: italic;">pah-ket</span>)<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>with you, as well as a pair of flip flops (тапки <span style="font-style: italic;">tap-ki</span>), a swim cap (шапочка для плавания <span style="font-style: italic;">sha-potch-ka d'lya pla-van-i-ya</span>), goggles (защитные очки <span style="font-style: italic;">zah-sheet-ny-ye atch-key</span>), a towel (полотенце <span style="font-style: italic;">po-lo-ten-tsye</span>) and some shower gel (гель для душа <span style="font-style: italic;">gel d'lya doo-sha</span>), because you'll be needing all that later.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Before taking the plunge, like at any pool you need to take a shower. Usually showers have the valve by the pipe connected to the shower head. Not so in Chaika. The valve is on the floor, which you have to stand on to operate.<br /></div><br />Getting into the main Olympic-standard pool is actually kinda cool, though in the West it might be seen as a gross safety violation. You step into a small pool connected to the outside ,which is obstructed by a barrier that you then have to swim under. I suspect it's primarily a measure to keep the cold out of the shower area.<br /><br />So once you've stuck on your swim cap and swum under the barrier, you're out in the open. And you better keep swimming, because even though the water is warm, the air above is still pretty cold.<br /><br />Once you're sick of the pool, it's time to hit the sauna, though that involves having to walk outside around the pool.<br /><br />[Writing about a Russian sauna/banya requires a whole other entry, so we'll skip this part for now. ]<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">After leaving the sauna, take a cold shower and then head round to another, much smaller pool. Now don't worry, this one's indoors. There's probably a very specific name for this bit, and if I knew it I'd post pictures because of how awesome it is.<br /><br />You can only exit the pool from one side, the other side is up against a wall. About three meters up the side of <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>wall is a sort of gutter from which blasts a torrent of water. There are about ten of these things along the length of the pool. It sounds odd, but for the full Chaika experience you need to stand under one of these waterfalls and let it beat down on your back and shoulders. Bizarrely, it's the same as if someone were massaging you, and is ridiculously relaxing. And then you go back into the sauna and repeat the process a couple of times, and then outside to <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> pool in the open to come down from the whole experience.<br /><br />Hopefully, by the end of all this, you are not dead.<br /><br />In closing and in keeping with tradition I leave with a video of "Russian Rocket" Alexander Popov, who set the world record for the 50m freestyle in 2000.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CIzBaSiWdRA" allowfullscreen="" width="500" frameborder="0" height="405"></iframe><br /><br />========<br /><br />In other news I was at an <span style="font-style: italic;">extremely</span> odd recital at some performance artist's apartment last night. His name is German Vinogradov and he is a strange man. How I actually managed to end up at such a bizarre event should best be saved for another day, or wiped from memory altogether. I do not recommend looking him up on YouTube.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Also, Moscow's new mayor Sergey Sobyanin has come under fire for supposedly lax snow-clearing efforts in the capital. Already there are mumblings about the good old days of Luzhkov. I can't honestly see the difference between this year and last year's winter.<br /><br />Edit (February 13, 2011): I managed to find this little gem of Tango instructors Anton and Anya practising a routine.<br /></div><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cx17iSATFz8?rel=0&hd=1" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe><br /><br /></div></div></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-27451325864684712922010-12-12T21:34:00.006+03:002010-12-13T00:28:43.826+03:00You Know When You've Been Tango'd<div style="text-align: justify;"><object width="500" height="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bXhQNRsH3uc?fs=1&hl=en_US&hd=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bXhQNRsH3uc?fs=1&hl=en_US&hd=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="400"></embed></object><br /><br />I guess I should own up to those scant few who don't already know: I have been going to tango lessons for the past month or so.<br /><br />It's part of an attempt to make up for me not going to the gym any more, though ironically the practice hall is even closer than the gym to my apartment. The school is called To Tango, and it teaches the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argentine_tango">Argentine form of Tango</a>. The school even has <a href="http://totango.ru/">a website</a>. Here's a picture of instructors Anton and Anna ripped from the site:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTq1sXkz8V7xk0ylU6EIIz20scaIkzTr828LnM92vU2e7w_Z7m3ZUOm4VwHMk6ZPaM42KwTqo9vkwnghL6WutwkRoGGqxdSC_9tfDUNbIIDlt8uWyQJb89SjJgeUWObCKW4bKg6WHkcz4/s1600/annaanton.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTq1sXkz8V7xk0ylU6EIIz20scaIkzTr828LnM92vU2e7w_Z7m3ZUOm4VwHMk6ZPaM42KwTqo9vkwnghL6WutwkRoGGqxdSC_9tfDUNbIIDlt8uWyQJb89SjJgeUWObCKW4bKg6WHkcz4/s400/annaanton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549886999033511970" border="0" /></a>Anton is a fantastically cool guy, and he also speaks English, which is useful seeing as I'm the only foreigner in attendance. Unfortunately, Anton has been on tango sabbatical to Buenos Aires for the past few weeks, leaving us to Gennady and Lena. I don't have any pictures of Gena, but he has danced far longer than Anton, so the class is in good hands.<br /><br />So why bring this up now? Well, the past two lessons have made me realize that I can't possibly dance in a crappy pair of dress shoes for much longer, so I went out and bought a proper pair today. Hopefully these will stop me from ruining my knees.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03i1GR3-QvJvCbH3JoAHseiWG-36EdJl6aX1ZebVcqvHzzu9-8mBklEhX1zcOBk0NnQ00qEqr4EQlg6B3hLkSzXAonEi45pLQzm9Y4W-a39psIaVBMHJajZ5Satl0hNIb2GNxl8CTQDU/s1600/shoes.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03i1GR3-QvJvCbH3JoAHseiWG-36EdJl6aX1ZebVcqvHzzu9-8mBklEhX1zcOBk0NnQ00qEqr4EQlg6B3hLkSzXAonEi45pLQzm9Y4W-a39psIaVBMHJajZ5Satl0hNIb2GNxl8CTQDU/s400/shoes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549892601324218066" border="0" /></a>Shiny.<br /><br />Tango is... challenging, but it sure as hell is fun and I heartily recommend it to you all. Even though I suck right now, at least I'm picking up various dance vocabulary along the way, such as: осанка (<span style="font-style: italic;">oh-san-ka</span>) which means "posture"; ось (<span style="font-style: italic;">oz</span>) which means "pivot" or "axis"; шаг (<span style="font-style: italic;">shag</span>) which means "step"; and поворачивать (<span style="font-style: italic;">po-vo-rah-chi-vat</span>) which means "to turn" among many others.<br /><br />So far I'm only doing the basic technique classes (базовая техника, <span style="font-style: italic;">baz-oh-vai-ya tekh-ni-kah</span>) once a week, which last two hours. With time I'll <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span> join the other group classes later in the week, and pluck up the courage to take part in a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milonga_%28place%29">milonga</a>. While it might sound like a dignified event, from what I gather with conversations with classmates, folk just get shitfaced and dance with each other for three or four minutes at a time.<br /><br />And in that time, you live, you love, you die - or so Gena tells us.<br /><br />Play us off, Gotan Project<br /><br /><object width="500" height="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vbh-jn8V54c?fs=1&hl=en_US&hd=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vbh-jn8V54c?fs=1&hl=en_US&hd=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="400"></embed></object><br /><br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-48106599798844435562010-11-02T17:23:00.006+03:002010-12-15T15:21:25.535+03:00Can’t Stop the Gop(nik)<meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cbglover%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:56.7pt 42.5pt 56.7pt 85.05pt; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span> <p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Over the past two weeks I have probably gone to the cinema far more than I should. A new job schedule has (finally) allowed me to return home without feeling brain-dead and able to do something semi-intellectual. Conveniently, a film festival was in town. In fact, there’s a British film festival that just started as well, but I unfortunately missed a screening of Chris Morris’ Four Lions last night (it’s showing again on Sunday, so here’s hoping I can nab a seat).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">The theme of the 2-in-1 film festival was fairly general – art movies here, comedies there, foreign flicks thrown in for good measure – and the three films I managed to catch were vastly different [Special thanks to Kseniya and Aleksey, by the way, for abusing their influence with the organizers and giving me free tickets].<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">Другое Небо/Another Sky</span></b><span style="" lang="EN-US"> (Dmitry Mamuliya, 2010)</span></p><p><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/medium/m_39.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 480px;" src="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/medium/m_39.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Probably best to start with the crap and end on a high note. Другое Небо (<i style="">Droo-goy-ye Nye-boh</i>) is an enormously depressing piece about chain-smoking estranged husband & father Ali from Central Asia who comes to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Moscow</st1:place></st1:city> in search of his wife. His nine-year-old son tags along. Nothing good happens to any of them, put bluntly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">To those not aware of the problems “guest workers” (or “gastarbeiteri” as the Russians stole it from the Germans) face in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Moscow</st1:place></st1:city>, Another Sky highlights their plight and shows off the supposed monotony of their existence in the capital. Truth be told, it was just plain <i style="">boring</i> – mostly because shots lingered on the side of the father’s head walking down streets and corridors, and he barely utters a word throughout. The first five times are fine, we get the message: it’s shitty and that’s the life some of them have. Is it necessary that the whole film be an exposition-less snooze-a-thon? Can’t there at least be a semblance of a story?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">The director held a Q&A afterwards. He was wearing a scarf indoors. Groan. Though if I understood what was said correctly afterwards, various guest-workers and typical locations were used in the film (rather than being shot in, say, Mosfilm Studios). Too bad the production didn’t bother to delve into the topic further, as I mentioned in previous posts that Slavic (or “White”) Russians don’t exactly have good attitudes towards the <st1:place st="on">Southern Caucasians</st1:place> or their Asian neighbours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">Неглубокая могила/Shallow</span></b><span style="" lang="EN-US"> <b style="">Grave</b> (Danny Boyle, 1994)<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/full/f_58.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 520px;" src="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/full/f_58.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Before Trainspotting, Danny Boyle shot Shallow Grave. I got slight waves of nostalgia, as it was filmed in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Edinburgh</st1:place></st1:city>, plus there was a cèilidh scene (Scottish line dancing, essentially, except fun).<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">One of the three protagonists, Kerry Fox (who plays a doctor), was in town to present the movie. Ewan McGregor (an obnoxious journo who never shuts up) and Christopher Eccleston (a straight-laced accountant who “always gets the job done”) have since gone on to bigger things.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">It’s a well-paced flick, and Eccleston does a wonderful job of making the rest of the cast feel paranoid as he becomes more and more unstable after new flatmate Keith Allen’s unexpected death by overdose in their apartment. Well worth watching.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">Гоп-стоп/Hold Up</span></b><span style="" lang="EN-US"> (Pavel Bardin, 2010)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/full/f_38.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 480px;" src="http://2inone.ru/media/photos/full/f_38.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Before Гоп-стоп (<i style="">Gop-Stop</i>), Pavel Bardin shot the film “<st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region> 88” (2009), which was a fake documentary about Russian neo-Nazi skinheads. I’ve not seen it myself, but it was both fairly well-received <i style="">and</i> banned from being screened in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Hold Up isn’t exactly a good translation of the title. The word “gopnik” in the blog title is Russia’s word for someone of the lower class i.e. ned, spide, steek, towny or scally depending on where you’re from in the <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Essentially the stereotypical image of individuals dressed in garish tracksuits who hang around in playgrounds drinking Buckfast or White Lightning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Ironically, while Gop-Stop features aforesaid scummy gopniks as the lead characters, the tone is the polar opposite to Bardin’s previous flick. Even though the film is loaded with obscure cultural references, most of which I could barely understand, I still found it hilarious. Needless to say, the locals who were in attendance howled with laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Gop-Stop is the tale of down-and-out gopnik Vasya, played by Pyotr Fyodorov (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Colin Farrell) and his close friend who embark on an absurd Robin Hood-esque scheme against the oppressive local mayor, who has spent most of his term embezzling the money of the taxpayers. <a href="http://everythingmoscow.blogspot.com/2010/10/dethroning-of-luzhkov.html">I wonder where they got that idea from?</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Sometimes the Russian definition of comedy tends to be a guy on stage holding a clipboard, who announces “Two Russians go to <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Las Vegas</st1:city></st1:place>” and then reads out a list of the hijinx they get up to. Gop-Stop completely quashes that image, proving that writers here are equally capable of dumb-but-fun screenplays that need not really on one nationality as its audience to be successful. Russian slapstick is not high art by any means, but it sure as hell was infinitely more entertaining than Another Sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Bizarrely, on the night, the film was being screened twice. After we came out of the hall, it turned out the second showing was for cast, crew and guests only. It was slightly bizarre seeing the same people that I had just watched for the past hour and a half standing in front of me. Pyotr Fyodorov remained in character and was dressed up in an ugly tracksuit for the premiere.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-US">Социа́льная Сеть/The Social Network </span></b><span style="" lang="EN-US">(David Fincher, 2010)<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.shoppingblog.com/pics/the_social_network_movie_poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 561px;" src="http://www.shoppingblog.com/pics/the_social_network_movie_poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">This wasn’t part of the festival, though it has just been released in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It might be a bit of a stretch to define it as “the film of the decade” that some reviewers have already said, but the combination of Fincher’s direction, Aaron Sorkin’s writing, and the score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross made for a fantastic experience.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">It should be noted that, while it’s been called “the Facebook movie”, it has very little to do with the website itself. Instead, the story (based on the mouthful of a book “The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook, A Tale of Sex, Money, Genius, and Betrayal”) focuses on the actions of the main players – how the site was spawned from Mark Zuckerberg being dumped and drunkenly taking out his frustrations through his skills as a programmer – and the sacrifices they have made along the way in pursuit of fortune.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Regrettably I had the misfortune of only getting to see the Russian dub, but I still walked out of the cinema satisfied. Reznor’s style shines throughout, especially when the second major scene hits.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
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<br /><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">And who would have thought Justin Timberlake would nearly steal the show with his sleazy, narcissistic portrayal of Sean Parker, one of the founders of peer-to-peer file sharing service Napster?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">The overall moral of the story is, while the facts might likely have been skewed and overdramatized on the way to the projector, we are all human and are equally fragile. It’s not exactly a feel-good movie, but in spite of the success of Zuckerberg et al., they all get their comeuppance one way or another, be it being sued for 500 million dollars, or simply being dumped by your girlfriend for being a jerk.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">= = = = = = =<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Last night on the way back from work one man was walking around in the chilly autumn air topless very slowly, albeit with his coat hanging down around his elbows. Later, on the way to the local grocery store, there was a man sliding around on his arse for no apparent reason. He didn’t look crippled at all; something had just possessed him to propel himself across the asphalt with his hands. Seat of trousers be damned.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">That’s it for now.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-86008327933916416992010-10-01T11:23:00.010+04:002010-10-02T09:11:19.672+04:00The Dethroning of Luzhkov<object width="500" height="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZYPofZFQWZE?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZYPofZFQWZE?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="400"></embed></object><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">In the twelve or so years I spent studying Russian, as well as going to and from Moscow, there was always one constant: Yury Luzhkov. For the past <span style="font-style: italic;">eighteen </span>years Luzhkov was the mayor of Moscow. But earlier this week, during Dmitry Medvedev's trip to China to rub shoulders with potential Hu Jintao replacements, the head of state held a press conference, during which he told the media that he had just signed a decree removing Luzhkov from office over "loss of confidence". He added that, as head of state, he cannot work with a regional head he does not trust. Michele Berdy has an interesting insight into the affair in her column on translating Russian <a href="http://www.themoscowtimes.com/opinion/article/so-many-ways-to-fire-someone/417910.html">over at the Moscow Times</a> concerning Medvedev's choice of words.<br /><br />Luzhkov is not a popular man, especially among the gay community, whom he has repeatedly condemned for their so-called satanic activities and happily dispatched the police to knock the shit out of them every time they tried to hold an "unsanctioned" demonstration anywhere in the city, though specifically on Triumfalnaya Square, where one can find the statue of renowned poet Mayakovsky...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/4508745000_a823b55dd7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 425px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/4508745000_a823b55dd7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />...but it wasn't always this way with Luzhkov. He did do a lot for the capital. After the USSR went belly up in the 90s, Moscow was in chaos, and Luzhkov's indefatigable management skills came to the fore and managed to turn the place from potentially becoming a swamp to one of the most opulent capitals on the planet.<br /><br />Urban regeneration was his forte, and for the first few years he pulled it off. In the vid up top you'll see the big gold <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_Christ_the_Savior">Cathedral of Christ the Saviour</a> (<span lang="ru">Храм Христа Спасителя <span style="font-style: italic;">Khram Khree-sta Spa-see-tell-ya</span></span>). The colossal structure was reconstructed under his watch (it got torn down in the 1930s). He had restored the city, and then some.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1437/1138607049_8b8d9c3395.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1437/1138607049_8b8d9c3395.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>...But then things started to go wrong (well, not really for Luzhkov). Luzhkov slowly shifted from being a manager to a political figure, not to mention the sums of money that were being accumulated from the massive construction projects.<br /><br />Of course, people in office in Russia aren't permitted to have any financial interests, but it would have been a <span style="font-style: italic;">terrible </span>shame to let all those business contacts go to waste. That's where Luzkhov's wife came in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/6/11/1276280624578/Yuri-Luzhkov-and-his-wife-006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 460px; height: 276px;" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/6/11/1276280624578/Yuri-Luzhkov-and-his-wife-006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Unlike her spouse, Yelena Baturina has no such problem with trivial issues like political accountability. Although it's never been declared officially, it's fair to assume that her construction firm wouldn't have been behind so many of Moscow's many sky-scraping eyesores had it not been for her proximity to the highest executive power in Moscow.<br /><br />Speaking of eyesores, Luzhkov is also partly responsible for the most obnoxious statue in Moscow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2245/4508174935_3ff29657e9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2245/4508174935_3ff29657e9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>This 90-meter-tall behemoth is meant to be in memory of Peter the Great, and was constructed by the equally obnoxious "artist" Zurab Tsereteli, who just happens to be (surprise surprise) a close friend of Luzhkov. I think we're a seeing a pattern emerging.<br /><br />Regardless of the slightly undemocratic deposition, it was more than ample time for him to be booted out. His stay in the mayor's office was way past any acceptable term, though I suspect Michael Bloomberg may have been taking notes.<br /><br />========<br /><br />In other news, I've been lax in visiting the gym, mostly due to laziness combined with the fact that I have achieved more or less what I set out to do. Honestly speaking, the place is pretty lame and the membership is running out soon. The fact that there are so many men doing those previously-mentioned thrusting motions in tight shorts (on more than one occasion I've even seen punters do some form of bizarre tapdance as a warm up) in front of me while I'm on the treadmill makes me feel I've wandered onto the set of a really crap gay softcore porno-comedy. The receptionist is cute, though.<br /><br />I believe there's a nicer (read: more expensive) gym up the road.<br /><br />[Husband & wife pic by Misha Japaridze/Associated Press, found in <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/jun/11/yuri-luzhkov-moscow-mayor-scandal">this Guardian article</a>, the rest are mine :P]</div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-22125989629333329962010-09-11T02:04:00.010+04:002010-09-11T14:10:31.515+04:00Singing in the Rain<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMWVs6ljL6EOlQv75FHh3eZQLWqed5IN9DvZRpeycRnTeOPZqY2jhv9uOldgBIpAejd-ss7zLVGHz5D1jPN0ye-Yi3FcXWuLl0r3ltIv1iRyBlB-c2GHQzW4p-JOMPUsNYkyuMhqKqfs/s1600/bonogod.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMWVs6ljL6EOlQv75FHh3eZQLWqed5IN9DvZRpeycRnTeOPZqY2jhv9uOldgBIpAejd-ss7zLVGHz5D1jPN0ye-Yi3FcXWuLl0r3ltIv1iRyBlB-c2GHQzW4p-JOMPUsNYkyuMhqKqfs/s400/bonogod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515409988434030114" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="" lang="EN-US">So, for the first time ever, Irish super rock group U2 and its lead singer’s ego came to Moscow two weeks-ish ago to play at Luzhniki stadium, which is the same venue where the Champions League final took place in 2008.</span><span style="" lang="EN-US">I had no real inclination to see them by myself (cue some locals shocked in disbelief at the fact that I didn’t want to see fellow Irishmen perform), but a last minute invitation swayed me. Plus it was an opportunity to see whether all the mocking of Bono by South Park and Family Guy is really warranted or not.<br /><br /></span> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">The only other time I had been at Luzhniki was in the summer of 2007 for the Metallica concert, which was pretty terrible. Not because of Metallica, they’re alright, but because of Luzhniki itself. As a concert venue it’s dreadful, as you can barely hear a damn thing in the stands (which is where I was at the time) because it echoes all over the place. But more importantly, the whole place was riddled with Moscow’s police force (or, rather, the </span>Милициа<i style=""><span style=""> </span></i><span style="" lang="EN-US">- <i style="">Militsia</i>).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">The moment you arrive at <i style="">Sportivnaya</i> Metro Station, you will see them standing around grumpily watching the platform. The moment you leave the station, you are confronted with the first of many rows of them.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFgS9s0sbm9Zyandn2anQagnFxPGhDoLoOF7iFZ9Jh6Nr9vPKktEDW4irKxKcozp_l54SNssaKklVCT9DQ6YCAqo3v4mvjFa81cMMLDkScdDYo_4NoU6f0Oe2btyVzXsT3rSVIDIJieg/s1600/DSC01781.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFgS9s0sbm9Zyandn2anQagnFxPGhDoLoOF7iFZ9Jh6Nr9vPKktEDW4irKxKcozp_l54SNssaKklVCT9DQ6YCAqo3v4mvjFa81cMMLDkScdDYo_4NoU6f0Oe2btyVzXsT3rSVIDIJieg/s400/DSC01781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515410334493574770" border="0" /></a><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">This pattern repeats all the way towards the stadium, where you have to pass through at least two security checks before you even get a glimpse of the interior.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzEES5pKaqjQsiEzZg2yOpP1-J5GsFzZ6fdTcdoRETxxn8ldqmzAW_8Oy8rEej9wY4xFGfs-gcCi9hYlu6dLDf23x2DI9991_7wErrsPn5Naeo9sYUnPyBMdxuh7ANheRaGA5z102tR8/s1600/DSC01784.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzEES5pKaqjQsiEzZg2yOpP1-J5GsFzZ6fdTcdoRETxxn8ldqmzAW_8Oy8rEej9wY4xFGfs-gcCi9hYlu6dLDf23x2DI9991_7wErrsPn5Naeo9sYUnPyBMdxuh7ANheRaGA5z102tR8/s400/DSC01784.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515410760198380162" border="0" /></a></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Admittedly, trying to keep several thousand people in a small area in some sort of order is a logistical nightmare, and the Militsia did pull it off despite being extremely menacing. To be fair, I’ve seen worse in Glasgow (Up Front Security are a particularly charming bunch). But none of it was particularly relaxing.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Given my previous experience at Luzhniki, I had very low expectations in the run up to being graced by Bono’s presence, and I was genuinely surprised… but not by U2. When the support group came on, I had a very odd sense of déjà vu.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">It took a few seconds to register, but it turned out that, of all people, Snow Patrol was the warm-up act. And even without fancy audio visual equipment and costumes (lead singer Gary Lightbody was scruffy as usual) they were far more entertaining than the main act. Mostly because of this moment…</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><object width="500" height="306"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NmlAb-uksEw?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NmlAb-uksEw?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="306"></embed></object></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">…After their set was done with, at least another hour was spent standing around, taking in the pleasant atmosphere of being intimidated by the local law enforcement while watching roadies do all sorts of things on the stage that was specially made for the 360° tour.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYIvEf983DBacKVDP1DB-MaUYmJZxHCJSWZz-9b8LOSjBlZ0F5TuMvxxoo7bdWDLOIo3bsxE2mB7HhYYy0Ssb_d-d3nuj8dgKIAKKJs2jXryfnKI003RR9N3fpOz1OVlU5ymFuDxx6Jw/s1600/DSC01862.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYIvEf983DBacKVDP1DB-MaUYmJZxHCJSWZz-9b8LOSjBlZ0F5TuMvxxoo7bdWDLOIo3bsxE2mB7HhYYy0Ssb_d-d3nuj8dgKIAKKJs2jXryfnKI003RR9N3fpOz1OVlU5ymFuDxx6Jw/s400/DSC01862.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515411202159495506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Eventually Bono, The Edge and the two other guys no one else cares about came out to the tune of David Bowie’s “Ground Control to Major Tom”. I’m not sure if it’s their “thing”, like how Metallica always kicks off its gigs with The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’s “The Ecstasy of Gold” by Ennio Morricone. If you’ve not heard the track in question then, well, make up for it now.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><object width="500" height="306"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2PwpOmjAu1M?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2PwpOmjAu1M?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="306"></embed></object></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">I think it’s fair to say that Morricone is more effective in kicking off a rock concert than Bono’s crooning of “Singing in the Rain” as it had actually started raining the moment the lot of them walked on stage, which didn’t stop until we left. And yes, I got soaked.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Despite not owning a single CD, I pretty much recognized every single song played on the night because – unless folk are unaware at the dilemma major artists are facing nowadays – U2 weren’t there to promote anything new. All these guys now have to go on tour to keep going. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">It’s not like the old days where you would have to sell a million copies to go to number one. With music downloads and the ubiquity of iTunes, U2 et al. simply can’t sustain themselves on record sales alone. This is why the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan are constantly on tour, and will do so until Keith Richards can’t drool over the frets anymore.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">And who wins here? Well, the Russians do. An ever-increasing number of bands are flocking to Russia. Elton John was here with his Red Piano recently. Madonna was in St. Petersburg. The Prodigy can’t get enough of Moscow’s money. Looking at the billboards outside my balcony right now, I can see that ZZ Top, Placebo and Sheryl Crow are incoming.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Yet I digress. Truthfully, the gig wasn’t the best because, despite playing their timeless hits, the four Irishmen didn’t exactly rock out. It was more about the spectacle of the thing. All the flashing lights, all the camera angles, all the moving bits of the stage etcetera.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">But what was both disappointing and baffling was Bono fulfilling the South Park/Family Guy prophecies of acting like the biggest tit on the planet. At one point there was a pre-recording by one of the dudes on the International Space Station reciting what I think was a stanza or two of one piece, which was followed by Bono holding his arm up and head down like the Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympics saying something along the lines of “Frank De Winne up der in the Inter-nash-un-al Spays Stay-shun, folks. Guys, just, y’know, keep ah-skin questions. Just keep findin’ ahnsers…”</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">…to the bemusement of all Russians in attendance. And then Desmond Tutu appeared on screen with an equally cryptic statement. And then the first four articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights scrolled up.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">A bunch of other surreal stuff appeared on the big screen, which was eventually closed off by an appearance of people carrying Amnesty International Chinese lanterns to Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, co-sung with the vocalist of Russian band DDT and noted activist Yury Shevchuk.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Afterwards it was a tiresome trek back to the metro station with several hundred other soaking wet people. Upon (eventually) returning home I jumped in the shower before gulping down a large glass of Chilean red.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-US">[Photo of Bono found at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alf_broflovski/">Alf Broflovski’s flickr profile.</a>]<br /></span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-57329674874818650332010-08-21T11:21:00.013+04:002010-09-16T09:39:30.396+04:00Burning Down The House<p style="text-align: justify;"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g42Xg-mAkGg?fs=" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" hl="en_US" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="500" height="344"></embed><br /><br />So last Sunday (15th) was amusing. Actually, the previous Wednesday (11th) was genuinely entertaining, as I attended my friend Dima's wedding, which was an absolutely wonderful day and I'll write about it later. A couple of hundred pics are on flickr from the day.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">But something happened on my way to Dima's wedding, which took place at the Дворец Бракосочетания (<em>Dvor-ets Brak-oh-so-shey-tan-i-ya </em>lit. Palace of Marriage) which is more or less the same as ЗАГС (<em>Zags </em>an acronym for what is essentially a Registry Office, but everyone says <em>Zags</em> for short). A few doors up from mine an apartment was on fire and the firemen (пожарники <em>po-zhar-ni-key) </em>were busily blasting it from a cherry picker.<br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">"That's interesting," I thought, as the apartment itself was part of the same building I live in. Most apartment buildings in Moscow have multiple подъезды (<em>pod-yez-dh </em>lit. um... well, езд comes from a verb of motion, but it means entrance). I was in a rush to get to the other side of town where the registry office is at, but after seeing the burly Russians attacking the blaze I became plagued by the idea that I might not have an apartment to come back to after all the wedding fun times. My fears didn't manifest themselves, and my apartment was fine after I came back home at two in the morning.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">That was, of course, until Sunday. Coming back at about three in the afternoon - I can't recall what I had been doing before then - I noticed the apartment stairwell stank of what could best be described as burnt plastic. Подъезды smell funny most of the time, usually of stale piss because tramps have a tendency to pass out on the stairs in the winter, but this time round it was especially pungeant.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One astute neighbour also noticed the stench, and was pacing up and down the stairs looking for the source. I became paranoid and started feeling the floors of my apartment wondering if any of the parquet had suddenly become especially hot (not easy to tell when your apartment is hot to begin with given the recent heatwave). And wouldn't you know it? The apartment <strong>directly below mine</strong> was actually on fire.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">By the time I had realized it was probably the right moment to vacate the place, I heard a colossal banging from downstairs. Firemen were already there and were attempting to force their way in with a crowbar, hose at the ready (meaning I couldn't really get past, but I guess I <span style="font-style: italic;">could </span>have jumped off my balcony, which is only about twenty-five feet from the ground). Then I got a phonecall from one of my Russian friends who lives nearby, inquiring, "Umm, Ben, there's smoke coming from one of the windows of your building, are you alright?"<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At that point I noticed that some burly firemen on a crane were peering through my balcony window at me to see if I was alright and rudely hung up on my friend to chat with them.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Given the sturdiness of doors you find in some Russian apartment buildings like the one I'm in (where the ceiling is about three meters high), the crowbar wasn't sufficient, prompting the appearance of an enormous diesel-powered angle grinder to saw through the bolts, which made a hilarious amount of noise.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Obviously, no one was in the apartment at the time. In fact, I can't recall the last time I had seen someone entering or exiting the place in the past year, so I suspect it may have been an electrical fault. I'm vaguely sure I heard mentions of an electric blanket, which might have explained the initial stench. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Anyway, the fire was put out relatively quickly. No towering inferno, I regret to disappoint, just a stairwell full of smoke (ironic, given the fact that the thick amount of smog that had descended on Moscow over the past fortnight had finally lifted). A fireman came in to inspect my place afterward and found no smoke or soot damage, and merely said that I should just leave the window open for a while.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Oddly enough, my friend who called me earlier was still waiting down on the street, which was nice, but, because of his particularly unique character, I was wondering if he was less interested in seeing me safe and well and instead more excited by the prospect of me emerging from the подъезд half on fire. He simply grinned when I later made this observation.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Not wanting to enjoy the stench of burnt plastic, I left the building for a few hours to both get a drink and let the excitement die down.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">A few days later, I encountered a couple of my immediate neighbours talking by the lift. Unfortunately for them, who weren't present on the day it happened, it turned out that the fire had kicked off underneath theirs, and that there was some sort of soot damage here and there in the apartment. Although most of the apartments are uniform, a lot of them used to be all one large thing, called a коммуналка (<span style="font-style: italic;">com-oo-nal-ka</span> lit. a short form of communal apartment) in which several families would live. After the Soviet Union died, a lot of these apartments were split up.<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The flat below me, however, hadn't been completely rearranged as the ones above, and covered the same area of the two apartments above i.e. mine and my neighbours'.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But anyway, no lives lost and mostly superficial damage. Here's to the next disaster. Perhaps something less dramatic, though, like the power outage in four of St. Petersburg's city districts last night.</p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-66017867794126268192010-08-01T21:19:00.013+04:002010-08-21T15:33:09.104+04:00Summer has come... I almost wish it hadn't<div style="text-align: justify;"><object width="500" height="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lfJGZzf8kRw?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lfJGZzf8kRw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="400"></embed></object><br /><br />Yes it's incredibly lazy to just embed YouTube vids haphazardly, but it saves me time because I'm awfully lethargic. Since the last post I've been in between jobs - which actually means I've been doing two jobs until the latter is done with - so the prospect of coming home to read and write more stuff (that I won't get paid for) has been a little unappealing. That and the year-long honeymoon period of keeping a blog has nearly ended. But fret not, I shall endure!<br /><br />Coming back to Martha and The Vandellas, it's been <span style="font-style: italic;">hot</span><span>. No really. It started off as fun, but then came forest and turf fires, thick smog from the infernos completely blanketing parts of the capital, people's <span style="font-style: italic;">dachas </span>(country houses) burning down in the Moscow outskirts, crop failures, and states of emergency being declared in 20+ regions of Russia. The past three weeks of drought have been hellish for a lot of people, but it's finally cooling down.</span><br /><br /><span>As a result it has added to the whole being idle thing. I have mostly hidden away indoors because there are only so many sunbeams the Northern Irish tan can take, as well as the fact that I am being less wild with my money - though what I would be spending on eating out is now being spent on keeping my air conditioner working overtime (my bedroom window faces the setting sun). On top of all that, the student loan Sword-of-Damascus over my head has finally made me paranoid enough to start paying it off.</span><br /><br />So what is there to say? Well, my friend Mitya (formally Dmitry; Russians have various diminutives, e.g. Benjamin = Ben/Benny/Benster etc.) has finally released his first book, called «Секс в саду камней» (<span style="font-style: italic;">Seks v sah-doo kahm-neigh</span>) which means... umm... "Sex in the Stone Garden". It's an erotic satire consisting of a collection of short stories, of which I've read the first four, which revolves around Japanese culture.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSUt5-VtaFdmJR34OBaHmWoRGIeAYOhMKS_NMlrFgYb3IfXSJqKhykApeL54G9qxfTZhjXWbb8Hnv4TXNoLlSj1L0DQt-fOVy8iyOcPkH8MjDjxF9DY9_i0GGP2P3joMuV9aplOfaLGs/s1600/dojinshi.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSUt5-VtaFdmJR34OBaHmWoRGIeAYOhMKS_NMlrFgYb3IfXSJqKhykApeL54G9qxfTZhjXWbb8Hnv4TXNoLlSj1L0DQt-fOVy8iyOcPkH8MjDjxF9DY9_i0GGP2P3joMuV9aplOfaLGs/s320/dojinshi.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500700378595758802" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The huge irony is that, while Mitya spent a lot of time in China in his formative years, he has never once set foot in Japan, and instead bases his stories on various stereotypes and his own perverted mind. With each passage, I begin to look at him in a slightly different light, as they get ever more extreme in content, but all the more hilarious.<br /><br />Pending his approval, I'll eventually put pictures of the book presentation, which took place at the Mayakovsky Museum, on<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dudeglove"> my flickr account</a>. It should be noted that in order for any book to be printed in Russia, the publishers must have a letter from what is ostensibly the propaganda ministry declaring that it does not contain extremist material. I would have been interested to see the expressions on their faces upon seeing the cover of Mitya's opus land on their desk.<br /><br />Aside from potential book pics, a lot of (mostly untitled) photos have been added to the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dudeglove/sets/72157624427131482/">new Moscow 2010 flickr album</a> They feature sunshine, and there are some ladies contained therein. Enjoy.<br /><br />Update: Moscow continues to be enveloped in smog. There was brief respite on Friday afternoon, but it came back with a vengeance at the weekend. I took some pics last Wednesday, which <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dudeglove/sets/72157624528329685/detail/">more or less show what it's like currently</a>.<br /><br />But if that's not enough for you, someone made a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZMfMMkFzto&hd=1">video on YouTube of what it's like</a>.<br /><br /><object width="500" height="306"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2ZMfMMkFzto?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2ZMfMMkFzto?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="306"></embed></object><br /><br />Thankfully I have an air conditioner in my apartment, as well as some surgical masks.<br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-20808162752376667252010-06-19T01:11:00.005+04:002010-08-18T12:07:10.664+04:00A Tale of Two Cities<div style="text-align: justify;">This entry has been a long time coming, for a whole bunch of reasons. I have alluded beforehand to the subject of problems that foreigners have working overseas. I kept putting it off because each time I attempted to write on this particular matter, I ended up descending into sweeping generalizations about the locals (which is boring, and it's been done to death by scummy nincompoops in various print media), or go into detailed explanation about how there are moments just before going to sleep or waking up whereupon a moment's reflection on my current situation nearly manifests itself into a "<span style="font-style: italic;">WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?</span>" cold sweat scream (which is depressing, and it's been done to death by scummy nincompoops in various print media). And that's not the route I want to go down, naturally. But after visiting both Shanghai in December and Paris in March I feel as though I can come back to this topic, and subsequently tackle those two issues.<br /><br />What am I trying to get at, you might ask? Well my overarching point is that, regardless of where you are, or wherever you go, you're still going to have problems. So without further ado, the following are the three main differences which stuck out during my little Parisian jaunt that support my observations.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Race</span><br /><br />Yes, Eurodisney is just outside Paris – but there’s no point in going. Paris is kinda like London – people of all creeds and colors have descended on the place, and a short trip on its metro (which is rather unnerving as it is not a particularly smooth form of travel) is like seeing every single nationality in the world in one go. And they are all really, really well dressed to boot. Had I not brought the jacket <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dudeglove/sets/72157623606553528/detail/">I’m wearing in the photos on flickr</a>, I’d have felt like a right arsehole wandering the streets.<br /><br />Conversely, Moscow is predominantly white, and their fashion sense leaves much to be desired. Blame communism for that one (the clothes, not that it’s all whitey).<br /><br />In addition, there’s an undercurrent of accepted racism in Russia, but delving into that topic would mean revisiting how scummy the police are here and their habit of beating to death anyone with remotely non-European features. That’s not to say Paris doesn’t have its own problems with race.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Flats</span><br /><br />Hearing about the flat-finding process in Paris genuinely shocked me. Central (“traditional”) Paris, which is made up of twenty <span style="font-style: italic;">arrondissements </span>(districts), is demarcated by the <span style="font-style: italic;">Peripherique </span>ring road. Here’s a map:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.parisbooking.fr/images/paris_map.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 320px;" src="http://www.parisbooking.fr/images/paris_map.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />From what I learned, trying to build/bulldoze any property in central Paris is a big no no, as it is either protected as a World Heritage site (granted, the buildings are pretty, feel free to look at the stupid number of photos I took on flickr) or the level of French bureaucracy makes the whole thing not worth a developer’s while.<br /><br />What does this mean, then? It means that the housing market is heavily steeped in the landlord’s favor. Why? Because, in reality, there is only a certain amount of places available within the <span style="font-style: italic;">Peripherique</span>. It’s not like Moscow, where Mayor Luzhkov will happily allow his fugly wife to knock over several acres of people’s homes to make way for obscene skyscrapers and further dilute the market.<br /><br />As such, people seeking flats to rent anywhere in twenty of Paris’ central districts – forget about buying a property – have to accept the appalling fact that they will not only have to pay an exorbitant sum of money per month (if they even get a place), but will also need to fork out some serious cash up front as a deposit.<br /><br />When my friend told me this (I may have the exact specifics wrong, as we were probably drinking red wine at the time, but the figure is not an exaggeration) to get a two-room flat along with another fellow, he had to pay <span style="font-weight: bold;">a year’s rent</span> in advance as a deposit up front. How much is that, you ask? At least <span style="font-weight: bold;">TEN THOUSAND EURO</span>.<br /><br />Never in my life have I heard anything as bad as that. I lived in Glasgow for four years, been screwed around by dodgy Bangladeshi landlords, letting agencies, energy companies, and even the goddamn city council on more than one occasion – but they were mere trifles compared to my friend’s experience.<br /><br />Still… those boulangeries…<br /><br />On my side, I’ve had few problems finding a flat in Moscow, and I don’t really have any horror stories to tell of. There are a bunch of expat-friendly websites (<a href="http://www.expat.ru/">expat.ru</a>, <a href="http://www.redtape.ru/">redtape.ru</a>, <a href="http://www.flatmates.ru/">flatmates.ru</a>) that can facilitate the flat/roommate-finding process. Agents are generally efficient and abundant as well, though some landlords will happily try to fuck over clueless Westerners.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dogs</span><br /><br />Within the first few minutes of walking around Paris, it became absolutely clear that the French did not have a revolution just so they could clean up dog shit. There is a frightening amount of the stuff. Not so much in the fancier parts of central Paris like the Marais or Montmarte. Yet up until that point, I couldn't recall the last time I'd stepped in crap on a city street. It's not happened to me in Moscow, that’s for sure, likely due to the fact that the migrant street cleaners do an insanely good job at keeping the place tidy. Having said that, I will likely step in some after I’m finished with this post.<br /><br />But Moscow has its own dog issues - strays. And I don't mean the saccharine "<span style="font-style: italic;">Aww look at the fuzzy wuzzy's widdle face</span>." I'm talking about actual <span style="font-weight: bold;">packs </span>of dogs that occupy courtyards and parks around apartment blocks. Dogs that put families off from taking their children anywhere near the playgrounds. Dogs that roam the streets and will actually attack passersby. Dogs that aren’t pets, they’re vermin.<br /><br />Sure, bleeding heart liberals kick up a fuss about the city administration rounding them up and exterminating them (I believe there was a big surge prior to last year’s Eurovision Song Contest, which Moscow hosted) as a temporary solution but, pray tell, what’s the alternative? Implementing that unrealistic neutering program that was much talked about?<br /><br />Thankfully, a phenomenon already exists that partially deals with the flea-ridden mongrels – the weather. Come winter, temperatures drop so low that the majority of mutts simply get killed off, only to start breeding like rabbits and quickly tear up the city again come springtime.<br /><br />In case it’s not clear from reading the last two paragraphs – my stance on Moscow’s stray dogs is pretty firm. I’d rather have a dead undomesticated animal on my conscience than being witness to a friend or coworker being attacked in front of me. I’ve been fortunate enough that such a thing hasn’t happened, but coworkers have shared too many stories to simply brush it off as an unlikely occurrence…<br /><br /><br />…Anyway, what I mean by all this is that Moscow has problems, but so does Paris. As an expat working abroad, you might think that you can run amok with a bottle of stout in defiance of the locals. For a brief amount of time, at least in Moscow, it’s possible to do so. But it comes to a point where you realize that the place is not perfect, and suddenly the idea of working in Paris becomes appealing.<br /><br />However, having spent so much time in Paris – which was a bit of a mistake on my part, but I was damned if I was going to fart around Moscow for two weeks – and seeing what my friends’ lives are like there, they’re not much different to my own. They too sometimes get fed up with their surroundings.<br /><br />I have managed to accept the fact that the brief sensations of loneliness and the doubts about my current way of life are not exclusive either to me, or to my location – be it Moscow, Paris, Shanghai, Glasgow or Belfast. It’s a given that has to be tolerated. Those that can’t and move on to the next place invariably end up going through the motions again once the novelty has worn off.<br /><br />As such, I feel I can officially lay this topic to rest and move on to writing about something more meaningful – like Moscow’s numerous stripclubs.<br /><br />= = = = = == = = = = = = =<br /><br />In other news, there was a gay pride march (sort of – it was more like small groups of people streaking, but fully clothed and holding placards in various places for a few minutes at a time) on the day of the Eurovision Song Contest, but Peter Tatchell didn’t get punched this time by a Moscow riot cop, so no one cared too much.<br /><br />I also had a wisdom tooth removed, which made me a bit cranky. My hot water went off the day after it got extracted. Double trouble.<br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-73032694029088369692010-04-26T12:52:00.004+04:002010-04-26T12:58:17.240+04:00Caveat Emptor II: The Birthday Chronicles<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><span style="" lang="EN-US">Having witnessed two non-Russians celebrate their birthdays here in the space of the past month, I thought it would be astute to mention the… peculiarity that Russians perpetuate concerning such an event.<br /><br /></span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:2.0cm 42.5pt 2.0cm 3.0cm; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Put gently, the practice is just a matter of good manners on your part. Put plainly, it’s downright mean on the part of everyone else. The chief warning is this: <b style="">don’t </b>go to a bar or restaurant on your birthday in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Why, you might ask, would one not want to celebrate their birthday at an eatery? Good food, wine, and company are perfect for such an occasion – so where’s the issue here? The problem is that, once it’s time for all to stumble onwards, <b style="">you have to pay.</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">This shock to a Westerner’s system is compounded by the fact that, when Russians actually go out for birthdays, they hunt in packs. The most recent party I was at had least twenty people in attendance. Even though the birthday boy in question was fully versed in Russian culture, he was still not best pleased when the bill came his way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Oh sure, your guests will bring presents, cards and likely a cake also, but they will drink you out of house and home. So much for being pampered by your nearest and dearest on the one day of the year when it’s all about you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">So where does it come from? Upon consultation with a native, allegedly, after receiving such gifts and enjoying fun times, one should проставиться (<i style="">pro-stav-it-sya</i>). There’s no real direct translation, though it essentially means one should equal things out. Another example would be that if you have a housewarming or are cooking for people in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region> – you’ll have to clean the dishes (I actually think this one is meaner) while everyone else sits on their behinds drinking the booze you bought for them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">It’s a sort of superstition that is almost reminiscent of the Aztecs, though not so much of the human-sacrifice-so-the-sun-will-rise-again. Put another way, if there’s enjoyment happening, those mysterious Slavic gods of social conscience must be appeased immediately, lest your moments of fleeting pleasure somehow bite you in the ass further down the line.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">In other words, if you come to <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Russia</st1:country-region></st1:place>, go to other people’s birthday parties – not your own.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">================<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">In other news, well, there is not much excitement. I’m attempting to snap photos here and there and still going to the gym, though not lifting weights and instead running like a pillock on the machines. Russians tend to have a different gym regime to what I’ve seen in the <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>, so thankfully the machines are hardly occupied. This is because Russians are big on weights, but are more calisthenics-ish outside of that, in that they will do exaggerated, odd-angled squats, sit ups, abdominal stretches and so forth (rather than cardio, maybe it’s a not-wanting-to-sweat thing). And then they’ll just grab a bar and hang off it for about ten seconds before repeating.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Victory Day (</span>День<span style=""> </span>Победы<span style="" lang="EN-US">, <i style="">Dyen Po-byed-ee</i>) is coming soon, which should be more fun than last year, as it’s the 65<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the end of World War II. On that note, I read a magnificent variation on the typical error Russians suffer from when translating into English. Instead of writing the typical “The World War II” (i.e. Russians have a problem with definite articles – the same goes for “The Wall Street” or “The Red Square”), one Russian presented me with the beautiful “<i style="">World War the Second</i>”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">I was also endlessly amused by Iceland’s Eyjafjallajökull volcano-glacier thing terrorizing Europe, even more so by the fact that I didn’t hear one news anchor attempt to say its name in full (it’s pronounced “EYE-a-fyat-la-jo-kutl”).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Finally, my hair dryer dramatically gave up the ghost, ending its own life with a crunching noise, but it matters not: it’s warm outside, and that’s where I’m going next…<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7722874132257922013.post-54049504733222741592010-04-04T08:58:00.014+04:002010-04-05T09:10:10.380+04:00Terrorism returns to Moscow<div style="text-align: justify;">A new entry has been a long time coming. This is mostly due to the fact that I was on holiday for the first two weeks in March, and then straight back on shift for another week. The events on the Metro on Monday, March 29th, have also delayed writing as well. On the upside, prior to my holiday in Paris, I acquired a digital camera and have uploaded several hundred photos of the French and Russian capitals, which you can find at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dudeglove/">my flickr account</a>.<br /><br />I'm not entirely sure it's my place to discuss the Moscow Metro attacks. Looking up the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Moscow_Metro_bombings">entry about it on Wikipedia</a> will give you more information than I can. Yet what I can do, perhaps, is give you a basic version of the events for those who don't have the patience, or the background knowledge. I should warn you that I will hyperlink a bunch of phrases, something I normally hate doing (seeing as nearly every other damned blog post on the Internet consists entirely of links to other sites). Try to think of them as further reading. I'll attempt to keep things simple.<br /><br />On Monday, March 29th, the first explosion struck the red line Metro station Lubyanka just before 08:00, which was smack bang during rush hour ("час-пик" <span style="font-style: italic;">chass-peek</span> or "peak hour" literally). Lubyanka is of importance, not so much in terms of the transport network as it only meets the purple line, but what's above it. Here's a pic of the Moscow Metro's layout in English. Click to expand.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGC5v1NgvMwbFnJaOwkxyk6VeotdqBTXFr-c1wt4HSMfTCkFGcpiT4fVUwxfiG4DAWdWDgeKXapVjEFKG-G27g0YH8VynwFY5_hBm4um_O9WWDl_hY50L9WxfkPO90Rp61KEepdyi6Ipk/s1600/metro_moscow_en.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGC5v1NgvMwbFnJaOwkxyk6VeotdqBTXFr-c1wt4HSMfTCkFGcpiT4fVUwxfiG4DAWdWDgeKXapVjEFKG-G27g0YH8VynwFY5_hBm4um_O9WWDl_hY50L9WxfkPO90Rp61KEepdyi6Ipk/s200/metro_moscow_en.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456160155816212338" border="0" /></a><br />On Lubyanka Square is the headquarters of the former KGB (Комитет Государственной Безопасность - <span style="font-style: italic;">Komitet</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Gos-u-darst-vennoi Bez-o-pass-nost </span>lit. Committee for State Security), now the FSB (Федеральная Служба Безопасности - <span style="font-style: italic;">Federalnaya Sloozh-bah </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Bez-o-pass-nost-ee </span>lit. Federal Service of Security). In other words, it's the equivalent of London's MI5. As you can see from the map, it's just a little bit north from the Kremlin itself, making it a prime target for anyone wanting to attack the Russian government.<br /><br />Approximately 40 minutes later, the second bomb went off at Park Kultury Metro station, located further down the line from Lubyanka and joins with the ring line station, which is extremely busy at the best of times. Both bombs occurred while the trains were on the platforms. Had they gone off while the train was in motion doesn't bear thinking about. The trains themselves can hit a top speed of about 70 km/h between stations, certainly at that time of day. The bombs themselves weren't that powerful, but they did contain shrapnel and metal rods, and were detonated via the use of cellphones.<br /><br />As it turns out, Park Kultury was allegedly not the intended target, even though it is a busy thoroughfare at that time. Instead, Oktyabrskaya (one station anti-clockwise from Park Kultury on the circular line) was meant to be hit next. As for what's at Oktyabyrskaya... well, nothing exceptional comes to mind, other than the fact that it's a ring line station like Park Kultury.<br /><br />The chief reason why the bomber was not successful in reaching Oktyabyrskaya is that perhaps she had been delayed. I know from an acquaintance - who was on the train ahead of the one that was carrying the second bomber at Park Kultury and heard the explosion behind her - that the red line was being closed off and people were being taken off the trains "for technical reasons" and "told to seek other routes", so the second suicide bomber there would have had to get off at the station regardless of whether or not she was heading to Oktyabyrskaya. It was also at such a time that news about Lubyanka was just beginning to spread. Consequently, access to the ring line at Park Kultury was also shut down for approximately an hour.<br /><br />In addition, the bombers themselves were two young women - one in her teens - reported to be the widows of two Chechen militants (it's not uncommon for these men often have multiple wives). They have been named, and were allegedly accompanied by two men to the station they both got on at, which is Yugo-Zapadnaya - the first station on the red line from the south west. The apartment they were residing in and where the bombs were assembled has also been discovered. The manhunt for the two accomplices is underway.<br /><br />On top of killing 40 and injuring 100 people and causing transport havoc - which greedy taxi drivers capitalized on at Metro station Komsomolskaya, also on the red line, by hiking up their fares to ludicrous sums (something in the region of 3000 roubles, or $100, to get to the centre of the city) - the mobile phone networks ground to a halt in the middle of the day as a result of the sheer number of phonecalls made and text messages sent. The authorities also asked the networks to do so in an attempt to block any further detonations. The phone network Megafon reimbursed its customers for any text messages sent from the time of 08:00 to 16:00, while mine (Beeline) sent me information messages about alternative bus routes or something along those lines (I couldn't tell, as the rest of the text was missing).<br /><br />As for responsibility, it lies with so-called Chechen warlord/Islamist rebel leader/freedom fighter <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doku_Umarov">Doku Umarov</a>, who is more or less deemed Russia's equivalent of Osama Bin Laden. Previous acts attributed to this man (or his group, of which he is its self-styled <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emir">Emir</a>) include the recent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_Nevsky_Express_bombing">derailment of the Nevsky Express</a> in November 2009, which claimed 27 people, as well as numerous homocides and kidnappings - all in the name of seeking the creation of the so-called "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caucasus_Emirate">Caucasus Emirate</a>".<br /><br />Thankfully, all of my friends and acquaintances were unharmed, though there were a number of near-misses and those who slept in or were late for work.<br /><br />As a result of Monday's events, I ended being contacted by <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00rptjj/Talkback_29_03_2010/">BBC Radio Ulster to talk about it</a>. Skip ahead to approximately 1:14:30. I was a bit nervous talking on national radio, so please excuse the inaccuracies that I have hopefully remedied with this post.<br /><br />Finally, Russia Today went into overdrive on Monday with its coverage, some of which <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUiEHovbg4E">you can watch here</a>. Their footage was at one point being streamed by both the BBC and CNN on the day.<br /><br />=======<br /><br />In other news, the snow is gone and it's warming up. Despite me looking forward to a winter wonderland of lots of snow remiscent of 2005/2006, which I got, it was too long and too dark. So much so that it was starting to take its toll emotionally. What'll likely happen now is a boiling hot summer, just like in 2006, which should be a joy when I'm at work.<br /><br />I've also joined a gym literally around the corner from my apartment. Nothing exceptional, but it's open late, meaning I can go for a run after work, which is a relief after being on a 12-hour shift.<br /><br />Last but not least, I acquired a faux leather office chair from Ikea for my flat. Its design is nothing exceptional, but it took a ludicrously long time to assemble because of its leatherette-ness. It was a balancing act trying to position a cumbersome soft thing next to another combersome soft thing, then trying to screw the two together. Three limb minimum. In hindsight I'd have rather changed the tires on a Hummer. Here's the completed article.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCP7qH7OJxhnCGkYqN21vsj5kTDtbfaPjzbBZHZFQ5t105c_QH61lcWhdIpq0GUf2bcjkUjCsqQz-sHKPpt4TTy05Tg9oSOJeGvIQpBOKoO2W7iPvUtB-kUHt5lkzQC-_KByW2b0-4Reg/s1600/never+again.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCP7qH7OJxhnCGkYqN21vsj5kTDtbfaPjzbBZHZFQ5t105c_QH61lcWhdIpq0GUf2bcjkUjCsqQz-sHKPpt4TTy05Tg9oSOJeGvIQpBOKoO2W7iPvUtB-kUHt5lkzQC-_KByW2b0-4Reg/s200/never+again.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456208973821404162" border="0" /></a>Someone should invent some sort of clamp specifically for Ikea furniture.<br /></div>Benhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599582996032386647noreply@blogger.com0