my kind of life

once more?

2011-08-22T20:55:00.000+04:00

i came back to this blog because i got tired of receiving spam that comes as comments to some of this blog's posts. i cleaned up the comments. and then i started reading.

a huge part of my life is here, about which i wrote sincerely, earnestly, even naively at times. it's like looking at yourself from afar, knowing it's not you who you're looking at. not anymore.

since i made the last entry here, i quit my job, moved countries, became a grad student and a human rights worker. and i got divorced.

four years of my life since this blog appeared.

now, i have once again moved countries and will probably have to change them again in a month.

it's no longer about living in Moscow. i don't know what it is about anymore. i graduated from grad school this summer and life starts anew again.

since i've started this blog i've been shedding skin continuously, for the new skin to appear and be shed again. life is moving and i want to move along with it - to the new.

2009-02-23T13:37:00.007+04:00

source: http://wvs.topleftpixel.com/
Bikers at Nathan Philips Square as part of Toronto's Winter City Festival.
Shot with Canon Tilt Shift TS-E 45mm lens

in efforts to procrastinate as much as possible instead of studying for the TSF, i am posting a couple of photos i am obsessed lately with. the photos are stunning but it's also the effect that i particularly like. kind of want lens like that...

and this is one of my favorite, it's livelier than life, it seems more human than us.

source: http://www.filemagazine.com/

2009-02-22T16:09:00.002+04:00

ok, one more post and then I am back to studying.
i found a note recently which i wrote on June 13, 2008 after i came back to Moscow from New York. sounds like one of those bitchy comments every expat is guilty of (although i am not technically an expat), but it's just an expression of how i felt coming back, take it or leave it.

"Being back can be a brutal punch in the face or a full body hug. I am back in a surreal world where the sky is crystal blue and the people are ash gray. I am back from a place where the sky is the same color and the people, the people are human." Yet I prefer to live in the former.

slow day

2009-02-22T15:45:00.004+04:00

it is. the entire weekend was sunny . studying for the TSF and hoping that what i am doing is enough. thought i could stay for another year if... i feel uncommitted these days. it's like i have a thousand plans B and either of them would be fine if the plan A fails. i am not sure if it's good or not. i just don't have a habit living like this.

My favorite things

2009-02-22T15:16:00.002+04:00

Slow Dance

by Matthew Dickman

More than putting another man on the moon,
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga,
we need the opportunity to dance
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance
between the couch and dining room table, at the end
of the party, while the person we love has gone
to bring the car around
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance
to bring the evening home. Two people
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant.
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey.
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck.
Your hands along her spine. Her hips
unfolding like a cotton napkin
and you begin to think about
how all the stars in the sky are dead. The my body
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained

Melody,
Stairway to Heaven, power-chord slow dance. All my life
I’ve made mistakes. Small
and cruel. I made my plans.
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine.
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like

children
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings.
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him,
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human,
and when he turns to dip me
or I step on his foot because we are both leading,
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer.
The slow dance of what’s to come
and the slow dance of insomnia
pouring across the floor like bath water.
When the woman I’m sleeping with
stands naked in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit
into the sink. There is no one to save us
because there is no need to be saved.
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a sheer white dress
covered in a million beads
slinks toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life,
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out
and bring her in. This is the almond grove
in the dark slow dance.
It is what we should be doing right now. Scraping
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutan slow dance.

From All American Poem
http://narrativemagazine.com

Moscow, February 2009

et puis je fume!!

2009-01-02T13:35:00.005+04:00

I woke up this morning to a piercing blue winter sky filling up my window and SMSs and phone calls from my family. Still half awake, I remembered last night's dreams with monsters, magic weapons and alliances I had to make to combat the evil - the results of seeing the Inhabited Island by Bondarchuk last night (I feel like such a dork going to see it on the first opening night!) and starting to read the book right after it. Or if we want to go further into dream analysis, 2009 is going to be a year full of.... monsters, magic weapons and alliances to combat the evil... cool!

When I woke up, I stared humming "and so i wake in the morning and i step outside and i take a big breath and i get real high and i scream at the top of my lungs what's going on," but it's sounds too cliche to post it here, so another song came to mind.

Discover Pink Martini!

et puis je fume!!

après la fête

2008-12-27T00:13:00.006+04:00

watching "un conte de noel" at the moment starring amalric whose roles i am unhealthily obsessed with; and it's because his characters are usually obsessive-compulsive, neurotic, out of control. his heroes are like jars of life tragedies and screw-ups that come spilling out as soon as he appears on the screen. most of his characters are complete losers, but what i love about them is that they are not afraid to live, be hurt, step over onto the other side of "sanity" for a while.

photos: www.premiere.fr and www.pro-fil-online.fr

Paroles, paroles, paroles...

2008-12-26T13:49:00.004+04:00

I talked to Ж last night. She is fine, at least that's what she said. I know so little about her life... We talked about living in the same city for a change sometime in the future, so we can be сестрищами друг другу again. I can use my sisterly influence to make her drink coffee in the morning and go with me to all the boring french films i want to see. We can get mad at each other in person and not over the phone, get over it and spend the rest of the day adoring each other to pieces. It would be great to be in her life for real. It would be great to have a family near me for a change.

the office

2008-12-25T16:32:00.002+04:00

my room is scary - not a thing has its place here.
it's all over, uprooted and homeless for the moment.

it's noel today in some parts of the world
i am listening to random music - like the last shadow puppets.

Discover The Last Shadow Puppets!

it's time to wake up

2008-12-20T13:43:00.003+04:00

Although my hair is still wet, I am off to a Coffee Bean to write my statement of purpose for Columbia. I have this stone solid conviction that I am not going to get into Columbia, probably because I really don't want to. It would be a really good school for my resume, my educational background, my career, I am sure I would enjoy all its challenges - but it's all popcorn - because what I really want is an adventure, not a prestigious education.

The new year is less than two weeks away and I'm excited about it for the first time in many years. I have this huge desire to celebrate it with a boom, even if that means by myself (a new challenge!), as opposed to last year when I was in a fantastically beautiful place watching people snorting coke at midnight.

Right now what I really want is to walk, не совсем трезво, around Moscow with a group of people that would also feel the approaching fest as much as I do, hop into numerous Moscow cafes for more glintwein, ok, foamy cappuccino, talk about books we've read, films we've seen, people we love. R. come back, this halloween was a lot of fun!

Reading an article about Nabokov right now in the last year's Citizen K, and remembered that I once read him write this:

Listen: I am ideally happy. My happiness is a kind of challenge. As I wonder along the streets and the paths by the canal, absently sensing the lips of dampness through my worn soles, I carry proudly my ineffable happiness. The centuries will roll by, and schoolboys will yawn over the history of our upheavals; everything will pass, but my happiness, dear, my happiness will remain, in the moist reflection of a streetlamp, in the cautious bend of stone steps that descend into the canal's black waters, in the smiles of a dancing couple, in everything with which God generously surrounds human loneliness.

V. Nabokov
"A letter that never reached Russia"

Chez nous

2008-12-19T01:37:00.002+04:00

I had a crazy day, yet am happily drunk on Baltika 9 (quel horreur!) and not ready to sleep. The office move has been an intense experience but all it takes is some time to get through it - and, after all, what is life without these uncomfortable, unsettling, неудобные experiences....?

No matter what I will always have my Paris

2008-12-14T21:48:00.003+04:00

More thoughts on cities and people...

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/08/opinion/08cohen.html?scp=1&sq=paris&st=cse
The New York Times

December 8, 2008

Op-Ed Columnist

Paris vs. Havana

By ROGER COHEN

Paris

Since visiting Cuba a few weeks ago, I’ve been thinking about the visual assault on our lives. Climb in a New York taxi these days and a TV comes on with its bombardment of news and ads. It’s become passé to gaze out the window, watch the sunlight on a wall, a child’s smile, the city breathing.

In Havana, I’d spend long hours contemplating a single street. Nothing — not a brand, an advertisement or a neon sign — distracted me from the city’s sunlit surrender to time passing. At a colossal price, Fidel Castro’s pursuit of socialism has forged a unique aesthetic, freed from agitation, caught in a haunting equilibrium of stillness and decay.

Such empty spaces, away from the assault of marketing, beyond every form of message (e-mail, text, twitter), erode in the modern world, to the point that silence provokes a why-am-I-not-in-demand anxiety. Technology induces ever more subtle forms of addiction, to products, but also to agitation itself. The global mall reproduces itself, its bright and air-conditioned sterility extinguishing every distinctive germ.

Paris, of course, has resisted homogenization. It’s still Paris, with its strong Haussmannian arteries, its parks of satisfying geometry, its islands pointing their prows toward the solemn bridges, its gilt and gravel, its zinc-roofed maids’ rooms arrayed atop the city as if deposited by some magician who stole in at night.

It’s still a place where temptation exists only to be yielded to and where time stops to guard forever an image in the heart. All young lovers should have a row in the Tuileries in order to make up on the Pont Neuf.

Yet, for all its enduring seductiveness, Paris has ceased to be the city that I knew. The modern world has sucked out some essence, leaving a film-set perfection hollowed out behind the five-story facades. The past has been anaesthetized. It has been packaged. It now seems less a part of the city’s fabric than it is a kitschy gimmick as easily reproduced as a Lautrec poster.

I know, in middle age the business of life is less about doing things for the first than for the last time. It is easy to feel a twinge of regret. Those briny oysters, the glistening mackerel on their bed of ice at the Rue Mouffetard, the drowsy emptied city in August, the unctuousness of a Beef Bourguignon: these things can be experienced for the first time only once.

So what I experience in Paris is less what is before me than the memory it provokes of the city in 1975. Memories, as Apollinaire noted, are like the sound of hunters’ horns fading in the wind. Still, they linger. The town looks much the same, if prettified. What has changed has changed from within.

At dinner with people I’d known back then, I was grappling with this elusive feeling when my friend lit a match. It was a Russian match acquired in Belgrade and so did not conform to current European Union nanny-state standards. The flame jumped. The sulfur whiff was pungent. A real match!

Then it came to me: what Paris had lost to modernity was its pungency. Gone was the acrid Gitane-Gauloise pall of any self-respecting café. Gone was the garlic whiff of the early-morning Metro to the Place d’Italie. Gone were the mineral mid-morning Sauvignons Blancs downed bar-side by red-eyed men.

Gone were the horse butchers and the tripe restaurants in the 12th arrondissement. Gone (replaced by bad English) was the laconic snarl of Parisian greeting. Gone were the bad teeth, the yellowing moustaches, the hammering of artisans, the middle-aged prostitutes in doorways, the seat-less toilets on the stairs, and an entire group of people called the working class.

Gone, in short, was Paris in the glory of its squalor, in the time before anyone thought a Frenchman would accept a sandwich for lunch, or decreed that the great unwashed should inhabit the distant suburbs. The city has been sanitized.

But squalor connects. When you clean, when you favor hermetic sealing in the name of safety, you also disconnect people from one another. When on top of that you add layers of solipsistic technology, the isolation intensifies. In its preserved Gallic disguise, Paris is today no less a globalized city than New York.

Havana has also preserved its architecture — the wrought-iron balconies, the caryatids, the baroque flourishes — even if it is crumbling. What has been preserved with it, thanks to socialist economic disaster, is that very pungent texture Paris has lost to modernity.

The slugs of Havana Club rum in bars lit by fluorescent light, the dominos banged on street tables, the raucous conversations in high doorways, the whiff of puros, the beat through bad speakers of drums and maracas, the idle sensuality of Blackberry-free days: Cuba took me back decades to an era when time did not always demand to be put to use.

I thought I’d always have Paris. But Havana helped me see, by the flare of a Russian match, that mine is gone.

Moscow doesn't believe in love?

2008-12-14T18:24:00.005+04:00

Города, как и люди, бывают сексуальные и фригидные. Можно всю жизнь прожить с человеком, так и не познав его эрос, не почуствовав. Так и любой город способен заставить вас вдруг затрепетать от оргазма или наоборот – обречь на десятилетия тоскливого совместного существования.

Я прожил полтора года в Токио, но до сих пор не открыл для себя эроса этого удивительного города. Берлин отдался мне через полгода. Санкт–Петербург – через неделю. Париж – через двеннадцать часов.

[my translation: Cities, like people, can be sensual and frigid. You may spend your whole life with a person and fail to uncover their eros, fail to ever feel it. Any city can similarly make you either tremble from orgasm or doom you to decades of miserable existence.

I've been living in Tokyo for year and a half, but haven't yet discovered this wonderful city. Berlin gave itself to me after six months. Saint-Petersburg - after a week. Paris - after twelve hours.]

Vladimir Sorokin "Moskva"

Sorokin writes this all to say that Moscow, this most expensive and glamor-obese city that never sleeps, Moscow remained frigid to Sorokin for a long long time.

For a long time I was obsessed with Paris. This feeling was similar to falling madly in love and then becoming a psychopathic girlfriend that just doesn't want to let go. I was delirious with Paris. I suffered without it and hated the city I lived in for not being Paris, for being the opposite of the city that had mon coeur.

Now that I am applying to the Sciences Po, I am closer to my urban addiction than ever before. However, I also realized that as much as I love Paris there are many cities in the world that are as fantastic, and some are even more worthy of our precious limited years in this universe.

But why is it so hard to love Moscow and what makes this city livable after all? Stay tuned.

GRE

2008-12-03T23:54:00.004+04:00

i stayed home today, trying to squeeze months needed for preparation for the GRE into one day. how silly of me. yet i am diligently sitting at my desk, sipping coffee, memorizing and writing argument-filled essay(s). i am planning not to go to sleep tonight in order to get as much into my head as possible, but knowing myself, i suspect it's hopeless.

funny thing - for once i am not nervous about this. i will probably fail miserably tomorrow - even though i will do my best - yet i feel no fear, no burdening responsibility to excell, to nail-it. my life will go on regardless of my passing this test and my happiness doesn't depend on it.

sounds like i am trying to exuse myself for being a lazy bastard and not giving it enough effort and time. perhaps. but i am also tired of self-guilt/self-blame/aspersion/calumny/vitroil. because each day brings something new, i want to enjoy life when i can. i want to have fun living with or without amazing GRE scores.

and now back to studying... i am about to write an argument essay on this:

"we must reduce overhead here at the cafe. Instead of opening at 6 am weekdays, we will now open at 8 am. On weekends we will only be open from 9 am until 4pm. The decrease in hours of operations will help save money because we won't be paying for utilities, employee wages, or other costs during the hours we are closed. This is the best strategy for us to save money and remain in business without having to eliminate jobs."

Oi!

a postiori

2008-11-29T14:14:00.002+04:00

11-2-2008
Raul came and left brushing against me for a day before continuing farther to the North to see family who might not be able to recognize him anymore. But they will get to know each other again - it just takes a little time.

For a day that R was in Moscow, we swept through the city like two tiny hurricanes, stopping to take photos and regain breath after seeing too many variations of mullets that Moscow continues to drown in.

The crush course in Russian living (to bring R up to speed after an 8 year long absence) began with pelemeni and Золотая бочка beer (yikes!) at my Tsvetnoi Boulevard apartment. We then walked to the Patriarshi Prudi to marvel buildings around it, picking the ones we would have liked to live in, but (as always) fnally deciding that there were other places in the world that needed our presense more.

Grabbed a sweet bite at the Volkonski Bakery and walked to Costa coffee to finally catch up with one another. That's the thing with us: no matter where we are in our lives, we have always been supportive of each other's plans, dreams, career changes, relationships, even mistakes.

It was the Red Square after that, where we saw a prticularly fscinating example of how far the Russian infatuation with mollets can go. R has a photo, hopefully he'll share.

Then we when to GUM, a department store at the Red Square bursting at its seems with Prada, LV, and the likes. R introduced me to Etro, and you really don't have to be able to afford their cloths to admire Etro's designs and colors. My 1960s-inspired, lapricon color, codoroy jacket was right at home there.

GUM was also interesting architectually. It looks like a miniture of a French palace on the outside, and the interior is even more fascinating: countless arch bridges connecting the oppostie sides of the same floor and decorated walls.

When we left, it was raining. We jumped right into the TSUM - talk about overload of snobism and scraf prices 3-4 times more than they are in Paris or Milan. I bet a herd of cows would cost the same.

So to fit right into this glamor-obese universe, we shared a beer at a gourmet supermarket and then I asked half of TSUM grim salesgirls (whose abilty to smile was taken away from them surgically as they took the TSUM job)... for bathroom directions. Ohhh, how they loathed us!

We finished they day with a delicious hummus-rich dinner at Sinbad with a coupe of good funny friends.

The next morning R left for the North to begin his all-Siberian adventure,

and I spent the day studying for the GRE in my bed, taking numerous naps.

on freedom

2008-11-27T09:12:00.003+04:00

it occurred to me while i was reading this book that when trying to get/be free we still can't get away from our social precondition no matter how much we try, because what we think is free has been defined by many in many ways before us. it wasn't a shocking eye-opening realization, however. i guess i finally started to realize fully that everything, absolutely everything, is relative. there's no absolute, no matter how good it sounds.

as soon as i wrote this, i started thinking about universality of human rights that i believe to be an absolute... this is probably the only thing where our world didn't fuck up. because as long as we give ourselves more room, space, chances for improvement, we remain as free as we can get. There's no shame in being preconditioned to humanity: universal human rights guarantee the right to life, not the right to kill, and the right to freedom from torture, not the right to torture.

got a bit distracted, but here's some thought on personal freedom from my favorite blond feminist:

"Freedom is an allusion," Bennett would have said (agreeing for once with B.F. Skinner) and, in a way, I too would have agreed. Sanity, moderation, hard work, stability... I believed in them too. But [...] what was that other voice which kept calling me a coward! and edging me on to burn my bridges, to swallow the poison in one gulp instead of drop by drop, to go down to the bottom of my fear and see if I could pull myself up? "

...

"The point is that fantasies are fantasies and you can't live in ecstasy every day of the year. Even if you slam th edoor and walk out, even if you fuck everyone in sight, you don't necessarily get closer to freedom."
"I wish you'd tell Judy that," Marty said.
"Nobody can tell anyone anything," I said.

Erica Jong "fear of flying"

L'invitée

2008-11-27T08:57:00.002+04:00

Et je suis là, mon couer bat.

More from Erica

2008-11-13T03:00:00.003+04:00

Men have always detested women's gossip because they suspect the truth: their measurements are being taken and compared. In the most paranoid societies (Arab, Orthodox Jewish) the women are kept completely under wraps (or under wigs) and separated from the world as much as possible. They gossip anyway: the original form of conscienceness-raising. Men can mock it, but they can't prevent it. Gossip is the opiate of the oppressed.

Erica Jong "fear of flying"

Oh god, I don't even know where to begin here. As much as i dislike gossip, we all do it and women do it definitely more often than men. Measurements are taken and compared, of course. According to Jong, gossip is one of those things, however, that no matter how oppressed women are, they will always find a way to talk to each other and compare their men.
That's enough to make mankind tremble.

2008-11-11T00:27:00.002+04:00

...It's heresy in America to embrace any way of life except as half of a couple. Solitude is un-American. It may be condoned in a man - especially if he is "glamorous bachelor" who "dates starlets" during a brief interval between marriages. But a woman is always presumed to be alone as a result of abondonment, not a choice. And she is treated that way: as a pariah. There is simply no dignified way for a woman to live alone. Oh, she can get along finanically perhaps (though not nearly as well as a man), but emotially she is never left in peace. Her friends, her family, her fellow workers never let her forget that her husbandlessness, her childlessness - her selfishness, in short - is a reproach to the American way of life.

- Erica Jong "fear of flying"

Reading this passage made me gulp for air. There's no way she is talking about America, I thought. She is talking about Russia, right? About Russian way of looking at a woman, like she is society's by product that only becomes wholesome, when she has a man, gives birth to children and owns a fur coat. Even if her man is an alcoholic who gives her black eye every once in a while. Even if she gets knocked up or has a serious history of abortions. Even if a fur coat is the last thing that can make her happy. But no, Jong is talking about America during 1960s and, although not as obvious, these definitions of what a real woman is supposed to be are still present in the American culture.

Jong continues:

Even more to the point: the woman (unhappy though she knows her married friends to be) can never let herself alone. She lives as if she were constantly on the brink of some great fulfillment. As if she were waiting for Prince Charming to take her away "from all this." All what? The solitude of living inside her own soul? The certainty of being herself instead of half of something else?

to persist

2008-11-08T15:48:00.002+04:00

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

I liked the book, although I can't say I loved it. It was easy to read and there are passages that I reread twice for their sparking sensory details or because i just loved pieces of dialogues between characters. But the beauty of this book is that it teaches about getting over your grief, your problems, yourself and living in the world, not on its outskirts. living with your heart is possible and it's a cliche only to those who refuse to try.

obviously not everyone will get this book, it may appear too preachy and (stereotypically) "for girls". too bad, b/c the book is really about the best what we possess as human beings:

... that's the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love - but to persist in love.

2008-10-24T23:05:00.004+05:00

a week of mountains and fresh air and people that didn't forget how to be happy
a week of sleeping by the way and eating meat
and only one beer

i miss this place already

its people that have so little in their pockets but so much in their hearts

i miss the mountains

the view took my breath away on my morning walk through Khudzhand

i miss the wind running through my hair and tajik sun in the morning warm and gentle on my left cheek

The region of Isfara, near Khudzhand, is known for its colored mountains - you can basically see different layers of minerals that are red and green and various shades of brown.

I ate so much meat there that I still feel full.

I loved the feeling of being away.

2008-10-24T23:00:00.003+05:00

she was smiling when i saw her for the first time. i wanted to know her right away.

i knew well that it wouldn't happen. i couldn't make the first step. i always waited for others to come to me: no one ever came.

2008-10-03T11:00:00.005+05:00

Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets. Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars. Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world. And never forget that writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things—childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves—that go on slipping , like sand, through our fingers.
- Salman Rushdie

via http://www.jdubblog.com

Le Scaphandre et le papillon

2008-09-16T03:16:00.003+05:00

Le Scaphandre et le papillon
The Diving Bell and Butterfly
Director: Julian Schnabel
Cast: Mathieu Amalric, Emmanuelle Seigner, Marrie-Josee Croze.
France, 2007, 1h 52 min

"Had I been blind and deaf or did it take the harsh light of disaster for me to find my true nature?"
Jean-Dominique Bauby

Le Scaphandre et le papillon is one of those rare films that are fantastic and cinematically beautiful, they receive prestigious awards (2 Golden Globes 2008 and a 2007 Cannes Festival award), called a movie of the year by film critics, yet remain a sincere manifestation of a human spirit - strong even when a function of its physical shell is reduced to a blink of an eye.

Le Scaphandre et le papillon is based on a true life story of a French editor of Elle magazine, Jean-Dominique Bauby, who, at the age of 43, suffers a stroke and is paralyzed but for his one eye. It becomes his only way to communicate with the rest of the world. Before the stroke, Jean-Dominique leads a lifestyle of a star; he is famous and admired. But he is forced to re-evaluate his life priorities when he loses all of this.

The film is a result of a brilliant adaptation of a book that Jean-Dominique “dictated” to his assistant by blinking his eye through the alphabet letter after letter. The story in the film is a personal account of Jean-Dominique as he goes from a full and seemingly satisfying active life to total immobility. This doesn’t, however, stop him from living, hungrily aware of what this world can still offer him: "My cocoon becomes less oppressive and my mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas's court. You can visit the woman you love, lie down beside her and stroke her still-sleeping face."

One of the best scenes in the film shows Jean-Do imagining eating oysters with a beautiful woman. It’s the most stunning cinematic experience that inundates with sounds, scents, feelings and colors, making you want not only to get an order of fresh oysters right away (even if you hate them), but also live with all your senses fully open to the world, loudly slurping and savoring little moments of happiness.

Images from www.allocine.fr

Musulmanin

2008-09-16T03:09:00.003+05:00

Musulmanin
Мусульманин
Film director: Vladimir Khotinenko
Cast: Yevgeni Mironov, Nina Usatova, Aleksandr Baluev
Russia, 1995, 110 min.

Last year the New York Times reported that there are somewhere between 14 and 23 million Muslims living in Russia. Islam’s status in this largely Christian Orthodox country has changed drastically since the collapse of the Soviet Union and the attitude of the Russian government towards this religious minority has changed as well. The article said that the level of tolerance towards people practicing Islam is quite high here and that the Russian government provides certain financial aid to those who want to do the hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. But the situation was quite different for Russia’s Muslims twenty years ago, according to Vladimir Khotinenko, the director of “Musulmanin.”

The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan from1979 to 1988 serves as the setting for this film. The main character, Abdullah, formerly known as Kolya, is rescued in Afghanistan after 7 years of captivity. Everyone is happy to see him back in his native village, especially his mother, who had always believed him to be alive. But Kolya adopted Islam as his religion and lives by its laws. That means no alcohol, no sex before marriage, no stealing. Expectedly, things become sour quickly between him and the rest when he continues to perform namaz and refuses to steal cow food from the government’s property. His mother and brother do it anyway because they need to feed their cow, which is so hungry she has no milk. But after the fact, the mother is in tears and tells Kolya: “All our lives we steal and all our lives we’re ashamed of it.”

Khotinenko’s village life is a very unpleasant sight. Alcoholism is rampant among people - Kolya’s brother is a hopeless alcoholic who has no other purpose in life. Even Kolya’s mother drinks, when a “Russian tradition” allows for it, as, for instance, during a remembrance day (pominki) for her dead husband. She asks Kolya to drink a shot of vodka with them, but he refuses by saying that his faith doesn’t allow him to do that, to which his mother says that it’s a Russian tradition to drink at the pominki and throws a shot of vodka into his face when he refuses again. This scene is an important illustration of the level of religious tolerance in late Soviet Union: while it doesn’t go against their way of life, the village residents don’t care what he does (“Let him pray, who cares” – “Пускай молится, жалко что ли»), but when Kolya's beliefs do not conform to theirs, which are illustrated in the film by alcoholism, greediness, and theft, they make him an outcast and call him a traitor. Kolya is a Russian version of Michael from Robert Heinlein's «Stranger in a Strange Land». He is an alien among his own kind, and what they see as a betrayal on his side, is his only way to preserve his dignity and to not lose himself to a decay of a Russian village. «To sin is easy,» says he to the villagers, but no one is listening, everyone is busy sinning.

One can critique Khotinenko for exaggerating faults of the village residents, but, in the case of this film, it was a justified way to highlight the discussion of religious tolerance (or intolerance) as the Soviet system was on its way to destruction and the many scenes of brutal fights between Kolya and his brother illustrate a longtime fight between Islam and Christianity for world dominance. And neither side is going about it nicely.

12 July 2008

2008-09-10T00:49:00.002+05:00

I put on a black shirt and a purple skirt. I am drinking iced coffee and my thighs are trembling after an afternoon run. I am not sad or depressed, but I don't feel content either. There's slight anxiety inside my ribcage. It's not always there, so I can't pin it down.

My body pulsates - bringing and taking away the feeling that escapes me. I am looking at the Pushkin Square across the road - there's water and people - people waiting, people passing through, people kissing, and homeless people that haven't had anything to eat in the last 24 hours. I might not have a home anymore either, but I can rent a temporary place to live in and it's a huge privilege to have a place to sleep at night.

I am annoyingly thoughtful today, maybe because I am hungry. Hunger doesn't make you happy. Money doesn't either.

I do not like it. This city of greed and brutality. These people that forgot compassion. These faces that don't recognize human in each other. What to do? How to slap them out of this repulsive falseness they call life? I do not hate you people, I do not dislike you individually. Everyday I try to look into your eyes and see you - see involvement, compassion or interest. Because I feel sick the moment you become a crowd chanting rasharasharasha, the moment you lose yourselves and become a mindless force.

I sometimes feel dead in this city and I blame you for this. It's easy, I know, yet nonetheless. I cannot connect with you and I can't get through you.

Stop.

last night's thunderstorm

2008-09-10T00:25:00.004+05:00

I am back to the life I don't take seriously, yet it's the one I should. I don't know why, but when I am "out" of it, when I am doing things that should seem even less serious or real, I feel better and much more validated as a human being, as a Tanya that I am.

Fragmented and despite being made to live as a whole person, as someone whose life is a linear process, I feel like I can always do it all over, as if there was no never, as if I would always have a second chance.

passing strange

2008-06-14T14:54:00.002+05:00

it's 13:30 and I just woke up
i'm feeling a bit guilty about it but a girl needs to take care of herself or the jetlag will win.
again, i'm slowly getting used to living in the city where unattractive men, boring cloths and miserable faces are as shocking as body odor of 80% of people taking metro.

but flying over the ocean I realized that it's the culture, not the geography that makes us who we are. it's our stupid traditions and what we believe in that form our outlook and earn us our stereotypes.

smiling is not an american thing, it's human
just as pushing a woman carrying a huge bag out of the way to get on the escalator is not a russian thing, you're simply an asshole. yet people take these types of behavior as national traits or accept them as their own. and i'm supposed to believe in the famous russian soul after i was rudely pushed in the metro or yelled at by a slightly older man? i think i would rather have the famous american smile, and although europeans, russians and others accuse it of being insincere, at least it causes no bodily harm. and that's often a deal breaker!

On things

2008-06-02T23:48:00.003+05:00

I should be packing right now
Instead I am writing about things that I enjoy in life
то, что я люблю.

- music that moves me so much that I mouth the words as I walk the streets, that makes me want to sing aloud
- books, so breath-taking that I mark passages and pages to re-read them later and maybe quote in my blog
- films that haunt me for days
- smiling people
- crabcakes
- feeling of thrill and anticipation I get when I board a plane
- meeting people who enjoy living
- wind in my hair
- notebooks with quadrille paper
- color green
- photography that makes me feel like I will explode with emotion
- June
- unfiltered beer
- waking up on Saturday, stretching and staying in bed listening to the street outside and feeling sunlight crawling across my eyelids
- morning coffee
- falling madly in love with people
- falling madly in love with places where I feel like home. Once there was just one. Now there are two. And I miss them.

Just a few

2008-05-14T00:51:00.002+05:00

De battre mon cœur s'est arrêté
Diva
Orphée
A bout de souffle
Je ne suis pas là pour être aimé
L'enfant

When you think about it...

2008-05-10T01:54:00.003+05:00

good wine, cheese, fresh bread and ... nuclear missiles in the center of Moscow city is the way to mark the Victory day in Russia.

Il ne faut jamais désespérer

2008-04-19T00:32:00.003+05:00

End of the week - yay! I know, I know, I should be sitting in a bar, drinking my over-priced beer or what they call cocktails here having enough balls to charge 15 dollars for it...

But it's nice to be at home on a friday night every once in a while, finishing a bottle of red wine from last weekend and eating crunchy peanut butter that my boss just brought me from the US of A. I must admit, they really don't go well together, but I am craving both and indulging in both at the same time.

The peanut butter is as crunchy as it gets: huge chunks of peanuts roll in my mouth until I bite them in half, then some more, and then it's all smooth on my tongue and I can feel the delicious nutty taste at the back of my mouth. Realizing just how much I missed it.

Tomorrow I am going to IKEA... In all my incomplete 27 years, I have not yet stepped into ze eevel place even once. So I decided that like all normal and adequate inhabitants of this city, I should have such experience under my belt, otherwise I'm being too marginal for anyone's liking. Have no idea yet of what I'm actually buying there, but I'm sure they will tell me what I want and need.

I finished Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" and finding it hard to pick up another book, for fear to be disappointed - TofC was just mind-blowing. I read most of it sitting in line in a tuberculosis and venereal diseases clinic, waiting to be proclaimed free of leprosy and the rest of those "central asian" diseases that we are all suspected of having.

Over there [in America] you think of nothing but becoming President of the Uited States some day. Potentially every man is President timber. Here [France] it's different. Here every man is potentially a zero. If you become something or somebody it is an accident, a miracle. The chances are a thousand to one that you will never leave your native village...

But it's just because the chances are all against you, just because there is so little hope, that life is sweet over here. Day by day. No yesterdays and no tomorrows. The barometer never changes, the flag is always at half-must... Above all, never despair. Il ne faut jamais désespérer.

~ Henry Miller

On assholes and POBs

2008-04-11T00:13:00.003+05:00

So yesterday I stood up to the system, that is well-known russian rudeness.
Victory # 1: I didn't let a 40-year old asshole cut me in line at the post office. The conversation went on as following:

I was standing in line, one man before me. Than this guy shows up.
Asshole: Miss, I'm after this man.
Me: How's that? I'm stading after him.
A: No, I was here before you.
Me: No, you're not. I didn't see you.
A: You didn't see me? Do you need eye-glasses?
Me: (gapping for air) Where we you?
A: I was just outside smoking.
Me: But you were not here. Wouldn't that be nice if we could all go and have lunch and what not and then come back?
A: (letting me go in front of him) So, ok, your letters will go out faster! (having nothing better to say)
Me: (ignoring his nastiness)

YAY! (although I was yelled by a post office clerk for not filling the forms out correctly)

Victory #2: Stopped the aforementioned post office clerk form yelling at me further.
The conversation between me and her:

Me: (approaching the window for the second time with the forms I just filled out after being yelled at for not doing it correctly) Here you go, I filled them out.
Post Office Bitch (POB): (yelling) Can't you see I'm busy????
Me: (in my most smooth but firm voice) No, I can't, because you didn't tell me.
POB: Well I'm busy! Can't you wait for at least 3 minutes??? Gosh, you people!
Me: Actually I can, if you stop yelling at me.
POB: I'm not yelling, it's how I talk (lowering her voice at the same time). Just give me a minute. I'll finish this and help you.
Me: Ok. Thanks!
(she didn't raise her voice since that moment and even assisted me in figuring out a zip code that was apperantly wrong on one of my envelopes).

YAY! #2

Angry? not me!
I think I can live in Russia.

photo: http://ralston360view.com/

Americans Are Not Stoopid

2008-03-31T13:42:00.003+05:00

Worth reading...

http://www.themoscowtimes.com/stories/2008/03/31/008.html

Monday, March 31, 2008. Issue 3872. Page 11.

Americans Are Not Stoopid

By Mark H. Teeter

Various Russian commentators expressed irritation or dismay earlier this month when a Pew Research Center survey indicated that a majority of U.S. citizens could not name the province that had just proclaimed independence from Serbia. You can see why this rankled. The Kosovo issue is important to many Russians -- historically, politically, even emotionally -- and the United States has played a key role in its divisive endgame. But for Russians, the Pew story actually got worse. Fully 9 percent of the U.S. respondents believed that this newly self-proclaimed ex-Serbian republic was called, um, Chechnya.

To Russians tempted to denounce Americans as stupid, let me offer some conciliatory advice: Bite your tongue, take a number and get in line. Denouncing American ignorance is a venerable tradition among many peoples of the world, especially Americans. And this Kosovo-Chechnya gaffe is, trust me, small potatoes.

Consider some other recent survey data: 20 percent of U.S. adults think that the sun revolves around the Earth. And 25 percent of U.S. teenagers, fresh from studying their nation's history, believe that Columbus arrived in the New World after 1750. Even allowing for the absurdities often produced by multiple-choice polling formats, the obtuseness of America's vox populi, smugly belittled for centuries by elite Europeans, may now be reaching truly awesome proportions.

Media accounts of a new wave of "serious intellectual trouble" and "stunning ignorance" among the rising generation point out that President George W. Bush's ill-conceived education program, called No Child Left Behind, has predictably left most children behind. It does not require schools to test pupils in "noncritical" subjects such as geography and history.

What has this produced? A lot of dumbness, as an internationally popular YouTube video -- with nearly 13 million viewings and a rising ranking among the most-discussed videos in history -- deftly illustrates. Ironically titled "Americans Are NOT Stupid," the clip features deadpan Australian "reporter" Julian Morrow intoning, "A lot of people give Americans a bum rap for being stupid and knowing nothing about ... the very world their country runs." Morrow then "refutes" this canard by posing questions to random Americans on the street.

Asked to name a country that begins with the letter U, these citizens of the United States answer Yugoslavia, Utah and Utopia. One young fellow can't name the location of the Berlin Wall; another can't identify the religion of Buddhist monks (after first guessing Islam); a third maintains that Fidel Castro is a singer; a fourth locates Italy in the Middle East. A nice middle-aged woman recalls that the United States won the Vietnam War. Asked how many sides a triangle has, a thoughtful gent answers four, which is later disputed by an even more thoughtful teenager who initially claims none and then settles on one.

Now, would anyone else like to share dismay over Americans' confusion about Serbia, Kosovo and Chechnya?

Lest you fear that these responses signal a U.S. breakaway in some imagined "Cold War II" stupidity race, let me remind and reassure you of Russia's many demonstrations of ignorance as strength. This country celebrated its national reincorporation in 1922 by expelling 160 of its finest philosophers, scientists, scholars and writers, thus becoming the first modern state to voluntarily lower its national IQ.

That this end had been well met was impressed on me in 1978 and 1979, when I spent seven months on a U.S. cultural exhibition here talking daily with thousands of average Soviet citizens -- the late-'70s Russian equivalent of Morrow's interviewees. Having weathered comments from them about the Americans faking moon landings, wearing transparent blue jeans and dressing cows in pajamas during cold weather, I know from stupid Russians.

As to the new millennium variety of Russians, whose vast majority either blandly acquiesces or positively revels in a "sovereign democracy" -- now famous for its phony parliament, phony judiciary and phony elections, all glowingly hyped in phony newscasts -- would you call this a nation of rocket scientists?

That said, I remain confident of America's near-term superiority in dumbness. While it would be, well, stupid to blame our tsunami of young dullards solely on one old one, consider the wise Russian saying, "The fish rots from the head." For another eight months, America will be guided by one of the stupidest fish heads ever washed up by the Potomac.

Of course, I could be wrong about Bush. I'm an American and may well be stupid.

Mark H. Teeter teaches English and Russian-American relations in Moscow.

photo: http://www.liv.ac.uk

A hospital day

2008-03-27T01:07:00.003+04:00

so i just got back from work and feel ok actually. it's considering that i got up at 7.30am to go to a hospital and finished work at 10.30pm. i don't even want to go into describing the horrors of russian hospitals, especially if you are a labor migrant from central asia... i've told about my 5 hour visit to a couple of hospitals to several people today already and i really don't want to remind myself about it again.

although i think i should write about it one day - i had a rather "lovely" conversation with a coat-hanging lady and even spoke in french to this foreign dude that got a special treatment and cut us all in line. as my fellow central asian comrades said: "his money is a different color from ours". right on, man! umm, actually.... my money is probably the same color as his, but i obviously have less of it.

after this i only got back into the office around 3pm (!).

so this is how i spent time that i'm paid for, instead of doing things i'm supposed to be doing... ahh, also saw a man in a wife-beater. it's march, dude! but i bet he thought he looked verrrry cool. his biceps were so large, tanned and glisten-y, that i half expected him to start beating the crap out of all the women in the room.

it's almost mid-night but i still can't get over the wife-beater thing. i thought they went out of fashion thousands of years ago and became coal or diamonds, or whatever else stuff becomes when it's buried in the ground for a long long time and deprived of oxygen.

well, anyway, it was a great day. tomorrow is going to be even better - i need to take some of my urine and spit to a tuberculosis clinic and then hop on the metro to pay a visit to a narcologist (or drugologist... although i'm pretty sure neither exist in english), so he can make sure i'm not a junkie and adekvatnaya (adequate) enough to work in the great federation of russia, because god and the world know russia has plenty of those already. so yea, wish me luck...

Apparently, these monstrosities are still very popular, even in Ireland. Why, God, why???

we are all hypocrites, but we're not ruling a country

2008-03-24T13:43:00.004+04:00

On the sword: "Shut up, bitch!"
On the shield: "I have a right to personal opinion"

I understand, it can be really hard to choose... I bet Putin actually tried to solve this whole democracy vs autocracy dilemma, sitting at his country house with a daisy... Just choose already, Vladimir Vladimirovich and tell Dima what to do.

image : http://www.novayagazeta.ru

Say it to me now

2008-03-23T20:33:00.003+04:00

Just watched "Once" and am feeling hugely affected by it. I don't know if it's because of a peculiar way in which the film was made or the intensity and violence in the main character's voice. It's really not a traditional musical we are used to. The story of a young Dubliner and a Czech immigrant isn't told through the songs. The songs rather expose the inner turmoil of the two - words they don't say, desires they fear to voice. But together they inspire each other to pursue their passions, even if they are taking them in two completely different directions.
Once is not a collection of cute songs that you'll be humming while putting your laundry away. Once is a remarkable film whose musicality doesn't wear off and its visually stunning gold brown and green cinematography intertwines with the autumn sunlight like His and Her voice creating harmony.

Nashla!

2008-03-16T21:48:00.002+04:00

"At no time in the history of man has the world been so full of pain and anguish. Here and there, however, we meet with individuals who are untouched, unsullied, by the common grief. They are not heartless individuals, far from it! They are emancipated beings. For them the world is not what it seems to us. They see with other eyes. We say of them that they have died to the world. They live in the moment, fully, and the radiance which emanates from them is perpetual song of joy."
~ Henry Miller

c'est ça, non?

Before I go jogging

2008-03-15T12:18:00.003+04:00

Downloading another LOST episode right now - im three episodes behind. So today I decided to take today to watch at least one and maybe make a trip to a park and hang out in a lovely Coffee bean in the neighborhood to try to read or write something.

Saw a rather strange movie last night in a movie theater/club/restaurant/(im sure it has other functions) - The story of Richard O. Starring was my favorite French actor Mathieu Amalric, but wtf? Nastya and I had an impression of sneaking into one of those seedy "special" movie theaters to catch a good porn film. This impression was emphasized by an old man sitting by himself 5 rows behind us and two young guys at the very back of the room. The only couple in the movie theater left half an hour after the beginning (never liked people who can't commit - even to a porn). Honestly, the film wasn't horrible, it had all the features of the european cinema which made it watchable enough for me. Also, it was in French - about a man taking time off to examine his relationships with women - so what if he's doing it by screwing as many as he can? And just to think that we actually wanted to see a nice sex scene-free My Blueberry Nights instead!.. What a mistake would that be on a Friday night!

to be

2008-03-12T23:52:00.004+04:00

I discovered all these podcasts on iTunes last night and spent hours downloading them on my ipod (they even have them in french and other languages!)
My favorite one so far was on the role of positive thinking in people's lives. The podcast was conveying an idea that life of inner peace and free of stress was the easiest kind of existence. And by easiest I think the author means more enjoyable, harmonous, not-miserable/angry, etc. Whenever I try to explain it to someone, however, I think I sound like Im trying to convert them to some new religion. I tried to persuade my Mom the other day to think positively and focus on getting better and I thought I sounded like a religious lunatic... I think it would have been better face to face.

Even though I run a risk of sounding like Im on a mission from God, I'm convinced there's a lot of truth in this theory. Being positive brings harmony into life. A gloomy rainy day doesn't have to be depressing and sad. You can live it just like any other day - and enjoying every minute of it. Thinking positively doesn't mean being oblivious and naive. What it means is seeing the best in people and the world around us, wanting good things to come for you and others and appreciating what you've got already.

I know it sounds like a quote from some self-therapy book, but hey, I think it's cheaper than any self-help book and much healthier than any pills a doctor might prescribe. So why not try it?

It happens when positive people are called idiots, naive morons, or annoying ... (fill in the blanks). But I think it's better to live this life and enjoy it than spend it in misery and hatred towards others or in self-induced depression. By thinking and being positive, one can bring harmony and joy into their own existence, so they have time and energy to share themselves with others.

"I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive"
"To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing."
- Henry Miller

Valence, France, Jan 5 2008

8 march long weekend

2008-03-10T23:31:00.003+04:00

The holidays are over.
Work starts tomorrow again.
Im ready for spring, time change and an orange jacket

I talked to my Mom just now and feel a lot better.

Watched three great films recently-
welcome europa (illegal immigration and male prostitution)
le scaphandre et la papillon (locked-in-syndrome and beauty of life)
there will be blood (money+religion=blood)

I'm in mourning

2008-03-03T01:16:00.001+04:00

Russia deserves better than this. Russian people deserve a good government. and they deserve stopped being lied to.

Back to blog

2008-02-29T00:06:00.003+04:00

Reading my friend Danielle's blog today made me really ashamed of mine... She is writing about her amazing trip to Corsica and what the hell am I doing here? Instead of describing my rather weird everyday life in Moscow or my funky time in France and New York... I am sitting here in my kitchen, looking out onto the Flower Boulevard and writing about stupid mistakes and how what people have to say about me doesn't matter. Of course, it doesn't!
So Danielle, thanks for making me want to write about things that are truly important like
- manpurses
- bomb-looking objects in metro
- furry jeweled scrunches on 1,5 woman I see (ladies, come on, it's not 80s anymore - remember that soviet union collapse thingy that happened right at the end?..)
- my ridiculously green mittens that never fail to cause a shocked pained expression on almost every woman's face I see (and yes, you guessed correctly 108% of them wear furry jeweled scrunches in their hair!)
- and unfortunately - animal abuse that I witness more and more on the streets of the city:(
- oh and also my cactus named Ricardo (I need some help keeping it alive)

Так что до скорого! à plus! later, dudes!

Danielle in Valence, France (miss you, lady!)

La neige qui aide à oublier ma propre stupidité

2008-02-26T10:19:00.005+04:00

Two days ago, it was the most magical night in Moscow. The snow was falling down majestly, yet serenly and it looked like all the stars in the world suddenly lost their gravitation and were falling down onto the earth, as if it was the center of everything (of course, i don't mean the stars in their original size:)

I had an ok Sunday, even though i'd made a mistake, but i once again told myself that what other people think of me is none of my damn business - and it made a huge difference. If it doesn't matter, then you have to let it go. I did, standing in the middle of a park, catching falling stars with my lips.

Clear Normandie sky on the first day of the year

Academie des Cesar

2008-02-23T11:21:00.001+04:00

On Feb. 22 the French version of the Oscars - the César Film Awards - takes place in Paris. Held in the Théatre du Châtelet in Paris each February the event is named after the sculptor César Baldaccini (1921-1998). The trophies themselves are actual sculptures of the artist. One of the top films up for a number of awards is "La vie en rose" about singer Edith Piaf. It's nominated 11 times. (Deutsche Welle)

Voici le palmarès complet de la 33e cérémonie des Césars:

- Meilleur film : "La Graine et le mulet" d'Abdellatif Kechiche

- Meilleur réalisateur : Abdellatif Kechiche dans "La Graine et le mulet"

- Meilleur acteur : Mathieu Amalric dans "Le Scaphandre et la papillon"

- Meilleure actrice : Marion Cotillard dans "La Môme".

- Meilleur acteur dans un second rôle : Sami Bouajila dans "Les témoins"

- Meilleure actrice dans un second rôle : Julie Depardieu dans "Un secret"

- Meilleur espoir masculin : Laurent Stocker dans

"Ensemble, c'est tout"

- Meilleur espoir féminin : Hafsia Herzi dans "La Graine et le mulet"

- Meilleur premier film : "Persépolis" de Marjane Satrapi et Vincent Paronnaud

- Meilleur scénario original : Abdellatif Kechiche pour "La Graine et le mulet"

- Meilleure adaptation : Marjane Satrapi et Vincent Paronnaud pour "Persépolis"

- Meilleur film étranger : "La vie des autres" de Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

- Meilleur film documentaire : "L'avocat de la terreur" de Barbet Schroeder

- Meilleur court-métrage : "Le Mozart des pickpockets" de Philippe Pollet-Villard

- Meilleurs costumes : Marit Allen pour "La Môme"

- Meilleurs décors : Olivier Raoux pour "La Môme"

- Meilleur son : Laurent Zeilig, Pascal Villard et Jean-Paul Hurier pour "La Môme"

- Meilleure musique écrite pour un film : Alex Beaupain pour "Les chansons d'amour"

- Meilleur montage : Juliette Welfing pour "Le Scaphandre et le papillon"

- Meilleure photo : Tetsuo Nagata pour "La Môme"

Un César d'honneur a été attribué au cinéaste italien Roberto Benigni. (LeMonde)

Russia's Sovereign Democracy

2008-02-08T15:51:00.000+04:00

source: http://www.theotherrussia.org

wind of change

2008-02-07T21:31:00.000+04:00

so it finally happened. two weeks after i got back from New York, I am being kicked out of my wonderfully located apartment by my stupid landbabushka. She gave us two weeks! And it's f February! I just don't think that nice people do such a shitty thing in the middle of winter.

Of course, as amazing as we are, we found great apt in a great location in just one day; already signed the contract and are ready to move in this weekend. So Tsevtnoi Boulevard, here we come!

Home sladki home!

2008-02-01T00:16:00.000+04:00

So show that is Moscow must go on, right? But where is fucking winter?
I am just a bit tired of all the slush and dirt that make a short walk to work unbearable. Yeah, I know, I should stop complaining, I'm home after all. The funny thing is that since I got back last week, I heard too many people bitch about Moscow and how passé it is. Why do we always do this? Dislike the place where we are, think that being somewhere else "would be awesome" while knowing that it's not true, that it's not the place, it's us? A nice answer to this would be wanderlust - desire to move from place to place, seeking thrill of things yet to be seen and experienced. But I also see it more as our reaction to new surroundings - we complain, therefore we exist... It's also much easier to find negative qualities in something/someone than positive, it's much faster and it's less work to critisize something than spend time thinking of des petits bonheurs of a place, a thing, a person... It's human nature, but I hate this excuse.

Anyway, for once I am happy where I am at the moment - in a slushy, dirty little place that is Moscow. It's been 4 months since I decided to make it my home and for once I am content just being, although I must admit that Moscow is really a strange place to feel such acute peace of mind. Because Moscow is really really insane. Because Moscow beleives that - having sex, getting impregnated by some alcoholic (or one in the making), spending 9 months of your life running to a nearby kiosk to get him another beer, and finally giving birth to a baby that you can't afford to have - is your duty as a citizen of the great Russia. What a fun place to live in!!

(these beautiful white people with blue-blue eyes say to you: "we're freaking awesome! we gave Vladimir Vladimirovich two whitest children ever! we rock, man!")
(ok, the sign actually says: "we choose love", but it's the same difference)

And you know what I say? I say nah-ah, chief, i shall become a nun (a horrible one, of course) before i give you more reason, in a form of a baby, to say that gay people threaten Russia's security and undermine its Constitution. Nah-ah!

Уррраааа!

2008-01-24T16:01:00.000+04:00

To my best friend:
"you-know-what" is over! so fucking happy for you! sending you my best wishes across 8 or 11 time zones (depending on where you are when you read this)! lots of love, -t

Back in the US

2008-01-08T06:07:00.000+04:00

After a crazy week in France, where I managed to go from Paris to Normandy to Paris to Valence and back to Paris, I am in New York... working again.

I will be back with pictures and stories, right now I am way too tired. Got in last night, was in the meetings all day. I feel home though. I do feel home.

For those who say it's hopeless

2007-12-21T18:03:00.001+04:00

There is not a crime, which does not live in secrecy. Get these things out in the open, describe them, attack them, ridicule them in press, and sooner or later, public opinion will sweep them away.

Joseph Pulitzer

Although this world doesn't make any sense (and life in Russia in particular), I believe in those who do not conform to what's generally accepted, expected, thought, done, said... I am inspired by those who say no to governments' bullshit and who demand justice when people's rights are abused. I admire those that know and recognize that people choose a government to ensure peace and rule of law, to act on their behalf and to safeguard their well-being and freedoms... not to screw them and cynically laugh in their distraught faces.

Recently, more and more young activists end up dead, abducted or forcibly treated in psychiatric hospitals. They are already very few, and they are younger and braver than I am, and they are not afraid to say no. They live in a country where having a non-conformist opinion or being politically aware is considered either lame, or boring, or a criminal offense. Yet, this Oleg, Sergei and maybe Lyosha (i guess girls are busy shopping) refuse to accept this obscure, elusive and (should i venture?) non-existent plan for the great Russia, and are hunted down days after they say so in their livejournals. But as long as they write and shout about it, as long as someone gives a damn, crimes will not go unnoticed and the criminals will be ... at least known (as much as I want to say punished, I am not that naive).

timely thoughts

2007-12-21T01:38:00.000+04:00

Nastya and I were talking this morning in my kitchen about our time in Moscow and while I was searching for a word to express the speed with which time passed in Moscow, Nastya said suddenly: "time doesn't exist here". It's strangely true. On December 25, Christmas day, it will be three months since i stepped off the plane in a prison-like Sheremetyevo-2. Where have they gone - 90 days of my life in Russia? I dove into my new job and i am still fascinated by what each day brings me professionally. yea, i have days when i can hardly stay awake... but who doesn't?

most of the action, however, happened inside me - although it was quite a peaceful revolution
it really helps to put things in perspective, especially when going through a major existential crisis (yes, i said existential:). it help to know that, hey, the stress of the moscow metro is not worth worrying about (just because you get pushed and smacked and hit and yelled a couple of times a day on average, doesn't mean life is bad...).

i was looking through my journal that i started almost three years ago in Paris and saw this poem i copied there on February 13 2005:

Tant de Temps
par Philippe Soupault

Le temps qui passe
Le temps qui ne passe pas
Le temps qu'on tue
Le temps de compter jusqu'à dix
Le temps qu'on n'a pas
Le temps qu'il fait
Le temps de s'ennuyer
Le temps de rever
Le temps de l'agonie
Le temps qu'on perd
Le temps d'aimer
Le temps des cerises
Le mauvais temps
Et le bon et le beau
Et le froid et le temps chaud.

(my attempt at translation)
So much time
by Philippe Soupault

The time that passes
The time that doesn't pass
The time that you kill
The time to count to ten
The time that you don't have
The time on your watch
The time to be bored
The time to dream
The time of agony
The time that you lose
The time to love
The time of cherry blossoms
The bad time
And the good time and beautiful weather (temps = time, weather)
And cold and hot.

Strangely, it was my last entry from France...

-----

and an appropriate photo to go with all this time talk...

photo: time.com

My Christmas presents from far far away

2007-12-17T23:11:00.001+04:00

and there are more. This one is my favorite.
thank you

The Alchemist

2007-12-15T16:47:00.000+04:00

I just finished The Alchemist and this is what I've learned from it:

1. To realize one's destiny is a person's only obligation

2. Following your dream is like learning a foreign language, you will make mistakes but you will get there in the end

3. When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it

The Alchemist is a small and simply written book, but it holds a lot of wisdom. Some people might shrug it off, some would call it a cliche, others would call it a masterpiece. I don't think that it is any of these things. The Alchemist shows simple beauty of everyday life and teaches to be patient when following a dream. But it also encourages to keep dreaming, to have a dream and to follow a dream. I will not speak for everyone, but I think that having a dream and trying to achieve it could be what meaning of life is all about. Periphrasing Paulo Coelho, society sticks too many labels on people and their identities. It gives people many tasks to fulfill through the course of life and puts them in charge of other people's happiness. But the only true obligation that people have in this life is to be what they want to be, and not what others want them to be. It's our only reason for being.

Andree Chedid "LA FEMME DES LONGUES PATIENCES"

2007-12-13T22:06:00.000+04:00

Dans les sèves
Dans sa fièvre
Écartant ses voiles
Craquant ses carapaces
Glissant hors de ses peaux

La femme des longues patiences
se met
lentement
au monde

Dans ses volcans
Dans ses vergers
Cherchant cadence et gravitations
Étreignant sa chair la plus tendre
Questionnant ses fibres les plus rabotées

La femme des longues patiences
Se donne
lentement
le jour.

(translation is in the comments)

Customer service a la Russe!

2007-12-11T18:03:00.000+04:00

After spending a couple of hours at the French consulate (I'm keeping my fingers crossed), I went back to work and stopped by the grocery store where I buy my lunch. There, amids yogurts, cheese and kolbasa... I saw a sign...I saw the very first roots of customer service understanding (the very first conscientious efforts... The sign said:

Вежливость продавцов зависит от
вежливости покупателей

transl:
Politeness of sales staff depends on
politeness of customers

I could hardly freaking believe it! What a deep understanding of customer service principles!
I wanted to take a photo of this masterpiece, but since I buy yogurts from these lovely ladies almost every day, I really didn't want to get blacklisted. So you just have to believe me.

the book I want to read

2007-12-10T18:03:00.001+04:00

Au secours pardon by F. Beigbeder

The main character of the book is beautiful mysterious Moscow... where everything can be bought.

I woke up late, did laundry and found an answer...

2007-12-10T00:30:00.000+04:00

And now it all makes sense and life is even brighter than it was before ( despite that it gets dark here around 3:30 pm). I knew I'd torn my life apart for a reason. But now I realize that I did it to prevent what I treasured most in this world to become meaningless. Yes, there were probably millions of easier and safer ways to do it, but I chose the most destructive instead. And yea, I could have done it better, with more class and less damage to myself and those I loved. But here we are and I don't regret a thing. There's a lot of hidden violence in these words and I feel them smacking me in the face every time I say them, but I stand by what I said - je ne regrette rien.

And I believe when I say that I'd crossed the ocean not to run away, but to start a new stage of my life, to search for and to find other threads that connect me to this world, to begin everything from zero no matter what my past holds.
Next month I will be 27.

Red Lovers - M.Chagal

2007-12-08T12:35:00.001+04:00

It's mystic.

The Wait...

2007-12-07T13:51:00.000+04:00

From my friend's blog - vulnerable, honest, naked self.

The Wait...
Current location: somewhere between DC, Idaho, Moscow, and Hell I sit and wait...

Introspection... retrospection... analysis... doubt... fear... optimism... the whole mumble jumble of whatever goes through somebody's head while they sit and wait for something that they want and need in order to continue living, that is what I have been doing. I am quite lucky to not have gone mad yet, for there were many mornings when madness loomed just beyond my bedsheets and beckoned me to come and join it in a wonderful adventure. But I resisted, knowing that temporary relief would do nothing to soothe my nerves or aches, and that I probably need to live another solid 50 years before I can even begin considering the illness.

I await the visa like a virginal boy on prom night (crude, but true). As soon as I am there and discover the infernal hell that I have been running to, I will make sure to click over to this site and find out exactly how much I anticipated this voyage and how badly I wanted to be there, just there.

People ask me why, but I can not explain. I dont even want to try, I want it and I will do it, for my own sake. This is something that my heart calls for, and I will not deny it.

On a lighter note, not exactly, but certainly less entertaining than my visa conundrum. Life with the boys is turbulent as always. I miss, I love, I want, I deny, I seek, I find, I ask, I destroy, I annihilate, I seek to understand, I look, I cry... but still it is better to have felt all of this and know that I made the right decision than sitting in silent desperation, waiting for the world to fail me. Waiting to be disappointed, being disappointed, and then wanting more is something that is reserved for the naive and seriously demented people, neither of which I would like to associate myself with, so I work to go beyond the obvious.

I am sure that had I stayed the emotional damage would have been far greater than leaving now. Late is better than never, and that is exactly where I am today.

To him: Thank you for being with me to help me get a better idea of life, love, commitment and dedication. I know better what I don't want.

To her: Life is good, take it in!

and now a tribute to my wonderful and inspiring new hobby... OMMM! :)

Deux amies au cafe

2007-12-07T09:57:00.001+04:00

Last night after work, Nastya and I met for a cup of coffee at this really strange cafe/sports bar near my office.

Nastya: tea, a piece of cake "Napoleon"
striking a romantic, pensive pose a la russe
(i mean, look at her awesome scarf!)

Me: irish coffee (i know, but it was a long intense work day), sharing the "Napoleon"
striking "i'm-so-unphotogenic-i'm-not even-trying-to-pose" pose

It was a good evening. Some soccer team won.

hehe!

2007-12-06T16:28:00.000+04:00

Официальный сайт для детей учит правильно любить родину, а не власть: "Что же делать гражданину, который слишком сильно полюбил своего президента, не может без него жить, вешает на все четыре стены президентские портреты и заучивает наизусть всё, что президент сказал вчера по телевизору? Во-первых, успокоиться. И понять, что президенту от граждан не нужны признания в любви. Президенту нужно только одно: чтобы граждане не нарушали права друг друга. А любить надо не президента, любить надо Родину".

The official (read: state) website for children teaches children to love their Motherland, not the government: "So what should a citizen do, when he loves his President deeply, can't live without him, hangs President's portraits on all four walls, and memorizes everything that the President said on the tv yesterday? First of all, to calm down. And to realize that the President doesn't need declarations of love form citizens. President needs only one thing: that citizens never violate each other's rights. It's not the President whom you should love, but the Motherland".

This is hilarious! I especially like "President needs only one thing: that citizens never violate each other's rights" - but it seems like the President is free to abuse these rights whenever he wishes.

(I can see you, you're not working!)

Oups! Sorry Vladimir Vladimirovich!

chez moi

2007-12-06T00:02:00.001+04:00

Two months and December in Moscow

2007-12-04T15:58:00.000+04:00

With the Dissenters' March happening on my "moscow anniversary" accompanied by the phony parliamentary elections a week after, i really fell behind with my posts. I have so much to write about, but even right now I don't have time, because I should be running to a meeting and not writing on my blog.

Great news is that Nastya is finally here - she's actually 1,5 months late. I met her yesterday, we cooked some гречка и чечевица in curry sauce and traded stories while drinking tea in my cute and o-so-soviet-looking kitchen. There are a lot of parallels in our lives at the moment and it's strange that we both ended up in moscow.

Other than that, life does go on, perhaps rather slowly at the moment, but it's the end of the year, so maybe that's what it's supposed to be like. I am dreaming of an ocean in rainy bleak Moscow.

Марш Несогласных - Dissenters' March in Moscow

2007-11-25T00:16:00.000+04:00

Some photos from the march today. I'll write about my impressions tomorrow - caught a nasty cold and really need to go to bed right now. Let's just say it was a cultural experience. It's nothing close to demonstrations in DC to protect polar bears. Here people were chanting "Убей в себе медведя!" - "Kill a bear inside yourself!", which refers to the symbol of the pro-Putin party "United Russia".

La Fatigue

2007-11-22T13:40:00.000+04:00

I am exhausted and it's only 12:40 pm in Moscow. Today is Thanksgiving. I've been reading about harassment against the opposition parties' in provincial Russia and am so sick of the same old story and of looking at the computer for so long - I feel like my eyes are running down my face.

Meanwhile it's Thanksgiving day in Moscow. I am at work. My roommate and a couple of other people will be cooking the TG dinner and I will join them when I get off work. Despite that it feels a bit weird to celebrate it here, I am in a thanksgiving mood

For the first time this month, Moscow sky is fabulously blue, almost unbelievably clear..., but I am wishing for a nap.

Voila! La Nature Morte

2007-11-19T00:00:00.001+04:00

Before:

and after:

I also discovered that there's an art supply store just three minutes away from my place! My super flatmate knows all the good places.

Winter at my door

2007-11-18T12:53:00.001+04:00

Roommate vs. Flatmate

2007-11-18T12:45:00.000+04:00

Apparently there's a difference.
As I was kindly explained over a couple of drinks in a cuban restaurant in Moscow, I should be careful when choosing which word to use because one obviously means to share a room and another - to share an apartment. Saying I have a roommate could imply something "neprilichno" (indecent:) like sleeping together.
Learning something everyday!!

A great article about Russia's past, present and its scary future

2007-11-16T12:43:00.000+04:00

"I should begin by saying that I find the current president of Russia and his policies extremely offensive. I believe that Vladimir Putin is the most sinister figure in contemporary Russian history..."
Thus begins Sergei Kovalev's sorrowful ode to Russia-that-could-have been. And here's a cool picture to go along with it.

http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20836

photo: www.nybooks.com

When I grow up, I want to be a president....for life!

2007-11-14T13:32:00.000+04:00

("For Putin!")

Calm down, people. Yes, it's Russia's Spiritual Leader Comrade Putin again who inspires me to keep writing, but I promise I am not turning this blog into a webspace solely to express my political rage and frustration... well, at least I'll try. Just saw a decent article in Moscow Times about zaputina.ru, a newly-created website rallying people to support Putin. Really liked this quote by businessman Nosik, who is convinced that this is not just a grassroots initiative, but that Rykov, the web site's creator, is paid for it:

"Rallying behind a leader with no conceivable alternative 'is for simple-minded people or for those who are paid well for the effort," Nosik said. "Rykov is not simple-minded. It is his task to mobilize the simple-minded." (Take that, "Nashi" and those who think they are just cute kids having fun with politics!)

The article ends with a truly Soviet response from Rykov:

"'We are lucky to have Putin, because for the first time a man has come to power who we are not ashamed of,' Rykov said."

... or how about just being brainwashed or too lazy to think for yourself, man?

photo: www.zaputina.ru

I just couldn't resist sharing this with you

2007-11-11T21:09:00.000+04:00

On my way back from the art class, as I walked through the Red Square I saw THIS:

It says: "Moscow votes for Putin!"
What the fuck is this? Why would Moscow vote for Putin when he cannot run for president for the third time? You can't see it from this photo, but it was sponsored by the "United Russia", Putin's political party. I can only admire their honesty!

Recuperating by sleeping, drinking coffee and listening to the Shins

2007-11-11T13:08:00.000+04:00

Yep, that's basically it. It's been an extremely crazy work week. Getting to work by 7am and leaving after 10pm. So on Saturday I slept until 1 o'clock in the afternoon and dragged my still tired body outside when it was already getting dark (although it was only 4:30 pm). I went to get some more art supplies and just as I was crossing the Red Square, it starting snowing with the wind - it was like mini snow storm. My sister told me via SMS that it's winter in Kazakhstan as well. But you know, despite my general dislike of a cold weather and winter as a season, I am experiencing a weird renaissance feeling towards it. It feels pleasant and refreshing, like a blank sheet of paper yet to be covered with lines and shapes and dark patches of shading.

Although I am exhausted, I really enjoyed last week. I wasn't sure about this in my first weeks in Moscow, but now I can say it with the utmost certainty - I love my job!

And to finish it all off, here are some of my first drawings:

This is the very first one (October 20th):

Another still life (in art museum I never enjoyed looking at still life paintings too much, but working on one is so much fun!):

I drew this portrait as an exercise - shamelessly proud of it:)

And this one is from today:

My mini snow storm in Moscow last night:

Potasovka (Fight) in Gogol

2007-11-01T17:32:00.000+04:00

On Tuesday my new Moscow friends and I went to political debates between Masha Gaidar (granddaughter of a famous Soviet writer and a daughter of a famous Russian politician) who represents opposition and "democratic forces" (see how skeptical I am) in Russia and Sergei Markov representing Putin's political party "United Russia". The debates' theme was " Putin's Plan or Putin's Clan?" But as the debates were about to begin, the club got a phone call from Markov's representative saying that he would not be able to attend because of a very important trip upon the president's request (!). How fucking convenient! So then Maria and the moderator were saying how "Edinorossy" (United Russia = Edinaya Rossiya) didn't respect us all who came to the debates and that the reason why they couldn't make it was because they had no plan for Russia and they were not able to defend it publicly. Then a man from the audience offered to represent the United Russia and the debates began. We got bored really soon when instead of having at least a remotely serious conversation, they started discussing Putin's fit body... yeah... In addition, there was a group of vodka gulping dudes who kept asking Maria if she was cheating on her husband....
Seriously, this was the best example of Russia's pre-election campaign I could ever wish for. So we left. And then this started.

http://lenta.ru/photo/2007/10/30/dadebatam/

The guy with a bloody face is one of the drunken dudes, the big, blond- ish guy is the ..... moderator of the debates who shot the other guy with a pneumatic gun, i guess in the face... That's a civilized political conversation Russian style, people.

Happy Halloween for all and Vietnamese food for me

2007-10-31T20:12:00.000+04:00

I am off to have some Vietnamese food near the Red Square! Looking forward to it. It is going to be my first experience with this cuisine (I am such a food virgin!). Last week we tried this Jewish-Azerbaijani restaurant in a synagogue - the food was pretty good. I got my salad served in a grapefruit (but it was 80% mayo - Russian people are obsessed with it).
Will see what a Vietnamese cafe is like in Moscow...
Happy Halloween to all!

This is not self-advertisment

2007-10-30T01:22:00.000+04:00

- well, maybe it is. But check out my cinema blog nonetheless if you like European films. That's what I usually watch and I post my reviews there. Let me know if you have any suggestions for future reviews or if you watched something absolutely atrocious, like "Brice de Nice"!

KinoBlog

"I've been in Moscow for a month" musings and a note on a creepy man from Osh

2007-10-25T23:32:00.000+05:00

So the 25th of October marked exactly a month since I came to Moscow. It took me a while to wrap my brain around it, because (like always) it feels that it's just happened yesterday and at the same time there's a terrible feeling that it all happened long time ago.

I really have no revealing truths to share, except that I know I made the right decision to come here. And although it is not some far away, little known country (some may disagree), I needed this bizarre place that is Moscow to show me just how much I got comfortable and settled in DC. Now I have a roommate (after 6 or 7 years of my own space), I take one of the most stressful and overcrowded metro in the world (Mexico City might be willing to compete) several times a day, I buy my fruit from a babushka (old lady) on the street, and I treasure every sip of a real (as opposed to instant) coffee.

Also, I live 15 minutes from the Red Square (it's so breathtakingly beautiful at night), 3 minutes from the Tretyakovskaya Art Gallery, and 2 steps from one of a very few movie theaters in Moscow that show un-dubbed foreign films.

In addition, I read way too much about Russian politics, started listening to "Echo of Moscow" (apparently one of the very few independent voice in modern Russia), I started taking drawing classes and I still hold the door for people in metro instead of letting it slam those jerks in the face (as they do it to me).

So here are some photos to illustrate these wonderful aspects of my life -

Snow on October 14th:

and another one

This is my room on Novokuzntskaya:

and one more (it really looks nicer now)

Capitalism and religion co-exist in post communist state:

I thought this was one very symbolic of political situation in Russia:
(CTOII means STOP)

Just because it's pretty:

M is for metro:

Some weird kids wearing blankets (I think they were calling on people to participate in the Day of National Unity - that's instead of 1917 Revolution Day - but out of fear of sounding like an ignorant foreigner and being strangled to death with one of the colorful blankets I didn't ask):

Just a pretty church:

on the way home (my fingers were freezing):

Oh yeah, forgot to mention the creepy man form Osh. I had to take a cab recently, and got lucky with the Osh man. First, he agreed to take me to the railway station metro, but he had NOOOO idea where that was (it was just one metro stop from the print shop). Then he got very curious about my living situation in Moscow, so I had to tell him that I had one roommate and how much I pay for my apartment. We also talked about being neighbors - our countries have a pretty long border, and how expensive it was living in this city. By the end of the trip he ended up asking me for my phone number... so I could help him find a cheap apartment in Moscow (!). (He didn't even give me any time to feel flattered). I had to tell him firmly that I would be a very bad apartment resource for him, as I had to have people help me find a place myself. He wasn't my type anyway - around 45 yrs old and he was one of that smelly type.

Foxy!

2007-10-23T23:23:00.000+05:00

So today was kind of a blah day, but it brought some good news as well. That would be my trip to Paris for the New Years, which means that I will get to see Bien and Marc with whom I shared very special moments this summer, including haircutting and attacking a spaceship landed under my balcony (that sounds crazy, I know, but it looked so real then). I will see ma belle Danielle also, so it should be a New Year to remember. And of course I will see my beloved Paris after 2,5 years. I can't wait!

The funny thing of today happened on my way back home. A girl passed me by and I was horrified to discover that she had a fox' tail attached to her right hip over her jeans... Before you even start wondering -

- no, it wasn't a Halloween costume. Russians celebrate Halloween on the same day as Americans, October 31.

- and no, she wasn't coming back from hunting. She was wearing high-heel boots, (too) tight jeans and a sparkly black (of course) jacket, and was most likely on her way to a bar. (The lack of firearm kind of gave it away as well).

The fox' tail on her hip was just an accessory! I didn't know if I should laugh or laugh out loud - it was absolutely absurd. I really wanted to ask her: "what utter need made you decide that today you absolutely had to put on an animal's tail before you left the house?" But there wasn't really any grand reason behind it beside wanting to look sexy. So instead of putting on a skirt that ends where the buttocks begin or wearing a shirt with sexually explicit adjectives, she "put on a tail". She wanted to look foxy. And the tail is a very subtle and appropriate way to express that.

Does a fox really need a tail?

But a girl apparently does...

Rain, apples, vase and a purple coat

2007-10-20T23:48:00.000+05:00

Not much happened today. It was raining when I woke up. It's October, but my window was slightly open throughout the night (weather has been kinda crazy - nice, snow, rain, nice and rain again). So I woke up knowing what to expect. Finished the Day Watch and started The Edible Woman by M.Atwood. I decided that my next French book is going to be "Innomable" by Becker, so I am saving it for reading at home to get the most out of it.

Today I went to my first art class. It was held in a Shishkin Gallery one metro stop away from me. It was really cool - I met other English speaking people and drew for 2,5 hours. We had to make a sketch of a vase with some flowers and some apples on a plate. The plan is to paint it with acrylic paints next week. I am so excited! I actually think i did ok. For some unknown reason I really enjoyed drawing shadows cast by the apples and the vase. I was just curiously aware of them this time. So maybe next week I can show the end result.

On my way back I bought a Russian Elle with an article on Gary Kasparov, one of the greatest Russian chess players slash opposition leader (and you thought I'd say Angelina Jolie, huh?)
I guess only Elle is left for him to speak his mind, since almost all media is controlled by the government or an company that government owns, like Gazprom. It really shows how weak Russian political opposition is, since the only place where they are allowed to speak their mind is a women's fashion glossy magazine.

And in France, there is "Le Divorce". It was coming though. I am curious how long she's been thinking about it. Poor petit Nicolas! Now he has to take on all those reforms by himself.

Also I decided that there is not going to be any leather jacket for me. 90% of people (men and women and children) wear black leather jackets in Moscow, while the other 10% show off some other type of black clothing. Instead I want a red or purple coat with a capuchon - a hood. Something like this?

New Apartment!

2007-10-18T01:12:00.001+05:00

So I finally moved and am spending my thrid night in a new place. So far I'm feeling well and maybe just a bit sore after carrying all those boxes that contained my life as I knew it only a month ago. It's a strange feeling to be and feel someone completely different from what I used to be just a short while ago... But one thing I saw while unpacking was that I had no idea what I was going to do with all the stuff I was taking with me. And one more thing occurred to me was that I have tooooo, way tooo many books. But right now I don't think it's a bad thing, because before me is a formidable winter of Moscow: short days, long nights, and cold, cold, cold... Yep, I have a lot to look forward to, n'est pas?

My new place is in the center of the city this time:) It is 3 minute walk from the metro, which will be very useful during winter. I also live near the river(!) and the famous Tretyakovskaya Art Gallery which I need to visit this weekend. There's a movie theatre nearby as well that occasionally shows un-dubbed foreign films (yey!). From my window I can see a cute yard that we share with another apartment building. It has something Parisian about it. And the road I take to get to the metro every day is also a tramway road and I see these old-fashioned machines (they are!) passing by me and picking passengers every morning.

On another note, Russia beat England in soccer today and Russian soccer fans beat up many British fans (they need to celebrate somehow, right?). I just read that several groups attacked a bar with Englishmen and the police didn't react and let the attackers walk away. You know, it doesn't surprise me anymore and I've been here only 3 weeks! Ahh, things to come...

The pictures of the new place are coming as soon as it looks decent enough for showing. I think it will be a cute and comfy place to live in and my roommate is a very very nice guy.
Danielle, Sarah, thanks for the comments girls! Hope you're both are doing great!

Something very cultural. Russian volunteers to ensure public order during the opposition rally to honor journalist Anna Politkovskaya, in Moscow on Oct. 7. It was raining .

...while we were in a warm McDonalds:)

Stop and smell... the metro?

2007-10-10T13:34:00.000+05:00

Today in the metro on the way to work, I had a revelation. I realized that my world has never smelled this bad. I am not a snob (after all I did have to use an outhouse until the age of 17), but I am getting fed up with people farting next to me or coming into the metro car and smelling like vomit consisting of digested garlic and booze. Very often these men and (occasionally) women do look like they spent the night passed out in a rain puddle, but usually it's normal looking people that just smell like crap.

This morning I couldn't help but laugh at the idea that I keep discovering new variations of body odor every day. To li escho budet!

Apart from people's BO, the Moscow metro is very fast and efficient (though crowded), it's sooo much faster than Washington DC's metro and cleaner than Paris' metro, which is often used as a personal bathroom by the numerous homeless. But in Paris, I could always walk away from the smell - you walk past a corner splattered with urine and you can breath again. But in Moscow I have to stand and smell someone's fart as long as it lasts, because I am pressed against at least four people in a crowded car. So we all stand there unable to move our hands to pinch our noses close from the stink.

About 10 million people use Moscow metro everyday:

and the stinkiest of them somehow always end up next to me:

Razanitsa - Difference

2007-10-09T21:59:00.000+05:00

You know how I can tell that I am not in the States anymore? When instead of taking a packet of oatmeal, emptying it into a bowl, pouring some hot water over it and waiting 5 minutes for it to get ready, I have to measure it in a cup, pour some cold water over it and cook it on the stove for 8-10 minutes mixing it from time to time. Love it!:) It is by far the tastiest, most satisfying oatmeal I've ever had. Et toc!

Rainy Monday

2007-10-08T11:57:00.000+05:00

It's raining in Baltimore, baby

But everything else is the same...

Yes, its' raining heavily in Moscow today. I am sitting in the office in wet socks and my canvas shoes are probably not going to be dry by the time I'm ready to leave. My office is located on the top floor of the building, so its windows designed as in an attic. Whenever I want to look outside, I see the sky and the top of the trees - it gives me an impression of looking upward, into the unknown, unexplored, for things to come...

I finally got my stuff delivered today and it's not too much. I think it's managable and I'll send some of it to my parents. So now I'll just have to worry about getting all these boxes from the office into my apartment ina week. That's going to be my third move in three weeks and I hope the last for a while. But this time I am moving to the center of Moscow. yey!

Ok, have to go back to work. It's raining and I'm the only person in the office today.

I need a phone call

I need a raincoat

I need a sunburn

Two weeks in Moscow

2007-10-07T23:57:00.000+05:00

Privet,
so it's been almost tow weeks since I shipped my stuff and then myself across the ocean back to the continent I was born on. It hasn't been easy and I expected it. But the biggest culture shock hit me in the metro, where there is always constant movement and pushing and sour smell of different variations and hundreds of faces, marked by unknown misery. Hard to be enthusiastic about my new life here seeing this around. But it was just the first impression. You'd be surprised to know how fast one gets used to this. It 's definitely easier now, and I found a way around it - reading!! Works wonderfully! At the moment I am reading the "Day Watch" by Sergei Lukyanenko in English (don't ask me why - I've no idea). I'll probably take a break when I'm done with it, because I'm not particularly enjoying it - the first book was much better, maybe because the idea of the Light and Dark Ones was still fresh and interesting. Before that I was reading Frederick Beigbeder's "L'amour dure trois ans" for the 3rd time and this book definitely helped me to get over the whole metro thing. It treats love and marriage in such a hilarious, yet truthful way - and it seems that this is exactly what I need right now to get over things that happened over this summer.

I got way too distracted! So to summarize these two weeks of my life, here's a list:
September 24 - took a plane over the Atlantic.
September 25 - layover in rainy Copenhagen, landed in the hostile Sheremetyevo and went through Custom's "red corridor" to declare my crap. By 5:30pm I was in my 1st apartment unpacking and trying not to freak out. Went out to get some food and internet and ended up getting my groceries at an over-priced supermarket "Azbuka Vkusa" (Alphabet of Taste), and discovering only minutes later a much cheaper neighborhood gorecery store "Produkty" (Groceries) nearby. Oh well!
September 26 - went to work and met my future co-workers. In the evening went to a bar in the central Moscow "Propaganda" (good name, eh?:) for beer and to meet my future roommate.
September 27 - went to the office, did some work.
September 28 - had nothing to do in the office, so I spent entire day exploring a piece of Tverskaya Street and taking a ton of picture, even sneaking some of a cute, but sad-looking old man and other people on the streets and in the parks. Was a great and gorgeous day!
September 29-30 - weekend and I did a lot of reading in the park and apartment, checked out a second apartment I'd moving into in a few days and saw one of PCVs from Kazakhstan.

October 1 - work officially started and my rather chaotic training has begun. At first I was not too enthusiastic about the whole thing and started having doubts (I should not have such high expectations! it doesn't do me any good), but as the week progressed, things picked up and got more interesting.
October 2 - moved to the 2nd apartment
October 4 - went to see my first theater play at "Tabakerka" - it was "The Story about Happy Moscow" (Rasskaz o Schastlivoi Moskve) and Moscow was a name of a Soviet girl, who was looking for an "ordinary life... with happiness" (prostoi zhizni tol'ko so schast'em). It was great. The theater was very small, only 10 rows and we were sitting in the 4th, so the atmosphere was very special and intimate and I felt connected to what was happening on stage. It was a very nice evening.
October 7 - attended demonstration organized by Kassyanov and other opposition groups and then went to see and take some photos of the photo-exhibition and candlelight vigil in honor of Anna Politkovskaia. It was very weird place to be, considering the mood of people around me and very bad weather - it rained most of the day and got colder and colder. Later I spent almost tow hours looking for a damn ATM, but none that I found around the Red Square accepted my ATM card. I finally found one (when I already resolved to be without any cash for another day) in the metro. So when I got to my neighborhood - Novogireyevo (last stop on the yellow line) - I could buy Zemfira's new album (not impressed at all) and some food (milk, yogurt, 'ikra kabachkovaya' (a squash paste/sauce: yum!) and some bananas for oatmeal I was preparing for dinner. I feel exhausted after a day on the street in the rain.

Despite the hectic way this new life of mine has begun, I feel very good and happy about my decision to move here. I know it's not going be easy, and that grass is always going to greener on the other side, but I realized that my comfortable life was exactly what I wanted to escape in DC and what I became to dislike. So cheers to this crazy idea to live in M, to rainy windy days, to smelly sad people in metro, to astonishing autumn colors that I haven't seen for so long, to pelemeni, to cheap DVDs, to fruits and vegetables sold on the side walk, to my new and exciting job, to new people I am meeting everyday, to me - anew!

Here are some pics of my first day in M:
My first apartment - living room/bedroom

My former kitchen:
Window with a view: