Ok I expected some sparks to fly when I announced that, well, I had been offered a free trip to Georgia.
And of course, working for a Russian company, I know to expect conspiracy theories to miraculously pop out of no where….but still I found the reaction overblown.
Yes, there was a big coincidence, I met the Georgian prime minister over some drinks and the very next day was invited to spend a week in a Georgian ski resort. i admit that looks suspicious. But (unlike my employers) I do not think that there is a plot to have me kidnapped, enslaved, locked in a harem, or made the personal toy of the government. I tried to explain that my friend had been there on the same programme and in the same circumstances…..but I also made the mistake of mentioning that certain friends very polish name….
So now it is official: there is an international Polish-Georgian conspiracy against the motherland!!!
'Have you written your will yet?' Asked my boss this morning as he came into the office…..no, I haven't, so if this blog mysteriously goes off the air in the next two weeks, will someone continuing feeding my furry companion? No reason why a cat should fall victim of international disputes!
30.9.08
24.9.08
the big adventure
I got a bike.
Specifically, a little, bright red, Brompton. My employers paid, to my great delight. Apparently this is a new fashion in London- buy your employees a bike and lower your taxes, and additionally claim you are helping the environment and fulfilling your corporate responsibility.
I also got an awesome military like helmut and I am now struggling to navigate londons streets from a new perspective. First, I am noticing certain things that I always managed to block out as a pedestrian, like the enormous quantities of one way streets all over this city! But it is quite fun to ride around the City in the morning watching everyone run off to their offices with their costa coffee mugs in their hands. You have to watch them carefully, cause they never look up at you.
I think I will need to shower 3 times a day from now on though…
19.9.08
perceptions
and so i found myself in a geneva 5 star hotel with a much of business leaders from all over europe, as well as certain political figures of note (again, wondering how i got there!) i was, as usual, the token female, a role i am increasingly getting used to.
the times are tense and tough, and talks quickly went political. as usual, they centred around Georgia.
let me state again, i am not writing here to judge the situation or to say who is right or wrong in it, what interests me far more is the war of perceptions. I have long been obsessed with the way in which the media can drive public opinion, and how it functions and gets manipulated.
but in this case, i would say the situation was a bit of a no-brainer. i have already written about the media war surrounding Georgia. but now i have been able to observe the players up close, making the whole thing even more painfully obvious.
i ran into the Georgian prime minister, Lado Gurgenidze, and two of his colleagues, over croissants in the morning. What a smooth operator! the sad thing is, images, perceptions and first impressions do count, and you could not help but be impressed by this guy. He has degree from the US, speaks absolutely fluent and colloquial English. his accent is less noticeable than mine. furthermore, it is not just the fluency that hits you, it is the high level of sophisticated vocabulary and turns of phrase. and he wears nice tailored suits, good cologne, and is polite and well mannered. In a clintonesque way, he poured me coffee with a charming smile, and asked me questions about my position, even though i more or less must represent the enemy in his eyes. i found myself assuring his aides that of course i love Georgia, its wine and its people- oh, and the cheese of course! hardly what a representative of the Russian media should be announcing in public i am sure. later he did a presentation. again, everything was ultra-slick, with flashing graphics and high definition flow charts.
now you could of dismissed this as a one off exception...but then later on a delegate from MONGOLIA showed up and made a similar impression. this guy had an Oxford degree, equally fluent language and manners, and another nice suit. after his 30 minute presentation, i think we were all indeed prepared to believe that the future of Mongolia is bright.
now compare this image to the Russia delegates: poorly spoken, vulgar and crude, with thick accents and grammatical horrors. the men wore ill fitting suits and shirts with odd patterns. the one woman with them had badly died red hair and a bright blue suit on. The Georgians made no accusations of excuses, speaking instead about investment, economic growth and market reforms, the Russian delegates shrieked about the whole world being against them (while the government in Moscow decided to shut the stock market several times this week!!!) and accused Georgia of all kinds of atrocities.
and in doing so, they looked like fools. the georgians didnt have to accuse them of anything, they were their own worst advocates. it was painful to watch. in a room full of decision makers, you could almost read everyone's mind, seeing them writing off enormous cheques to tbilisi.
out in the hallway, one of the Russian delgates pulled me aside "these fucking Georgians, they are like monkeys dressed up in suits, and everyone is listening to them!" he continued to rant on, pointing out (i am sure correctly) that all the Georgians there were ultimately the off spring of Soviet elites, who had been to the best schools prior to 1991. "We made them who they are, they would have been nothing without us!" he barked. yes, i concede, he might be correct. but does that matter now?
the thing is, i have come across loads of Georgians who are semi-educated and practically peasants, and i know many well educated and sophisticated Russians. so why does every event like this end up the same way? it is not by any means an accurate reflection of inherent reality, it is a problem of representation of that reality. it is not just that the Georgians and Mongolians spoke perfect English (although that helped) it is that they behaved and spoke in a way investors (Swiss, German, French, British) understand and want to hear. many of the investors were themselves Russian born, but came to the event representing international banks, and were cringing as much as i was to watch their homelands official representatives.
i dont believe that Russia is necessarily on a fundamentally different planet, or that Georgians are somehow closer to "us the West." I think that the current Georgian leadership has a brilliant PR team, and the Russian leadership does not. the question here is- why? Russia has no shortage of people who could present a brillant image of their rich country and civilisation. Yet, their leadership seems to go for the crude goons everytime. If these leaders didnt care about world opinion, that would be understandable, but the hysteria suggested they do indeed care- and a lot. so i dont get it- why dont they get a slick PR team, get some well spoken guys in nice clothes and stick them behind the podium with a fetching smile? if they did, i am sure the perceptions of the situation would reverse radically.
the times are tense and tough, and talks quickly went political. as usual, they centred around Georgia.
let me state again, i am not writing here to judge the situation or to say who is right or wrong in it, what interests me far more is the war of perceptions. I have long been obsessed with the way in which the media can drive public opinion, and how it functions and gets manipulated.
but in this case, i would say the situation was a bit of a no-brainer. i have already written about the media war surrounding Georgia. but now i have been able to observe the players up close, making the whole thing even more painfully obvious.
i ran into the Georgian prime minister, Lado Gurgenidze, and two of his colleagues, over croissants in the morning. What a smooth operator! the sad thing is, images, perceptions and first impressions do count, and you could not help but be impressed by this guy. He has degree from the US, speaks absolutely fluent and colloquial English. his accent is less noticeable than mine. furthermore, it is not just the fluency that hits you, it is the high level of sophisticated vocabulary and turns of phrase. and he wears nice tailored suits, good cologne, and is polite and well mannered. In a clintonesque way, he poured me coffee with a charming smile, and asked me questions about my position, even though i more or less must represent the enemy in his eyes. i found myself assuring his aides that of course i love Georgia, its wine and its people- oh, and the cheese of course! hardly what a representative of the Russian media should be announcing in public i am sure. later he did a presentation. again, everything was ultra-slick, with flashing graphics and high definition flow charts.
now you could of dismissed this as a one off exception...but then later on a delegate from MONGOLIA showed up and made a similar impression. this guy had an Oxford degree, equally fluent language and manners, and another nice suit. after his 30 minute presentation, i think we were all indeed prepared to believe that the future of Mongolia is bright.
now compare this image to the Russia delegates: poorly spoken, vulgar and crude, with thick accents and grammatical horrors. the men wore ill fitting suits and shirts with odd patterns. the one woman with them had badly died red hair and a bright blue suit on. The Georgians made no accusations of excuses, speaking instead about investment, economic growth and market reforms, the Russian delegates shrieked about the whole world being against them (while the government in Moscow decided to shut the stock market several times this week!!!) and accused Georgia of all kinds of atrocities.
and in doing so, they looked like fools. the georgians didnt have to accuse them of anything, they were their own worst advocates. it was painful to watch. in a room full of decision makers, you could almost read everyone's mind, seeing them writing off enormous cheques to tbilisi.
out in the hallway, one of the Russian delgates pulled me aside "these fucking Georgians, they are like monkeys dressed up in suits, and everyone is listening to them!" he continued to rant on, pointing out (i am sure correctly) that all the Georgians there were ultimately the off spring of Soviet elites, who had been to the best schools prior to 1991. "We made them who they are, they would have been nothing without us!" he barked. yes, i concede, he might be correct. but does that matter now?
the thing is, i have come across loads of Georgians who are semi-educated and practically peasants, and i know many well educated and sophisticated Russians. so why does every event like this end up the same way? it is not by any means an accurate reflection of inherent reality, it is a problem of representation of that reality. it is not just that the Georgians and Mongolians spoke perfect English (although that helped) it is that they behaved and spoke in a way investors (Swiss, German, French, British) understand and want to hear. many of the investors were themselves Russian born, but came to the event representing international banks, and were cringing as much as i was to watch their homelands official representatives.
i dont believe that Russia is necessarily on a fundamentally different planet, or that Georgians are somehow closer to "us the West." I think that the current Georgian leadership has a brilliant PR team, and the Russian leadership does not. the question here is- why? Russia has no shortage of people who could present a brillant image of their rich country and civilisation. Yet, their leadership seems to go for the crude goons everytime. If these leaders didnt care about world opinion, that would be understandable, but the hysteria suggested they do indeed care- and a lot. so i dont get it- why dont they get a slick PR team, get some well spoken guys in nice clothes and stick them behind the podium with a fetching smile? if they did, i am sure the perceptions of the situation would reverse radically.
decay at the centre?
London and new york have been reeling all week from the trauma. First there was the shock of Merrill lynch and Lehman brothers, followed by shakes and take overs with AIG, HBOS and so on. 5,000 people in canary wharf were fired on Monday alone, including a guy I know. The Lehman brothers employees weren’t even paid their last months wages (at least not yet) and it looks like they wont be. The City has pulsated like one big ball of stress all week long, with anxiety visible in the faces of all. As I walk to work, or wander on my lunch break, I see the usually confident (ok, arrogant) guys in suits huddled over, talking intensely on their mobiles or in little packs of two. The crunch hasn’t yet changed their drinking habits. Maybe it has even made them drink more, as the pubs in Leadenhall market remain overflowing. Maybe they have decided to drink their last wages into oblivion?
Yet as the city shrieks and screams, I escape to the calm of Geneva.
Despite London supposedly being the worlds financial centre, it is a decaying mess by comparison to Switzerland’s third largest city. I am sure the panic is here to, put it is thus far more restrained, or at least less hysterical. That, and it is one of the cleanest and most efficient places on the planet.
Yet as the city shrieks and screams, I escape to the calm of Geneva.
Despite London supposedly being the worlds financial centre, it is a decaying mess by comparison to Switzerland’s third largest city. I am sure the panic is here to, put it is thus far more restrained, or at least less hysterical. That, and it is one of the cleanest and most efficient places on the planet.
9.9.08
outings
Over the past few weeks I have made more of an effort, consciously of by accidental convenience to get out and do more with the limited spare time I have.
Last week I headed to the Royal Albert Hall for the Proms. The New York Philharmonic was playing Tchaikovskii, which can never go wrong, really. For one thing, the building itself is great. The Hall was designed by Captain Francis Fowke and Major-General Henry Y.D. Scott and built by Lucas Brothers. The designers were heavily influenced by ancient amphitheatres, and it shows. The place looks vaguely like a Roman Coliseum, with a huge organ in the middle. The acoustics of the building are actually not the best, but the setting makes up for it. I sat at the top, and thus got an excellent overview of everyone else. Unfortunately I didn’t take opera glasses, I would have had the best people watching post in London if I had.
Then this week I headed to Southbank to catch a multimedia rendition of Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Ok, I admit I have never been a Virginia Woolf fan. I partly blame my secondary school teachers for this, having been forced to read A Room of One’s Own, which I detested, in the 10th class. i think my general dislike also stems from a great mistrust of anything that suggests feminism, to which I have a vague allergy.
Those hesitations aside, the production was technically very well done. The Waves is a saturated and self- aware work, which it has been argued, represents a high-modernist destruction and reconstruction of the concept of the novel. Presented as a play, it comes across as a radio serial form an earlier era more than a standard script. The monologues are typically Woolf, interior free associating monologues with complex vocabulary. The characters are caricatures of themselves, with each fulfilling his inevitable destiny, and the man around whom much of the action revolves, Percival, is left voiceless, uttering not a word of his own throughout the performance. The actors and choreography were amazing. Minute detail was paid to every sound and image, creating an acute impact on the senses. The timing was impeccable and the mis-en-scene incredibly striking, accurately reflecting the obsessions of the modernist mindset. Various microphones planted around the stage captured every little twitch and rustle, while cameras also projected onto a screen emotionally vivid images at well-chosen moments. Technically the play was perfect. I thank God I was not born a member of the English upper middle class at the turn of the century, as more emotionally repressed environment I could not imagine. Still don’t think I will ever be a major Virginia Woolf fan though, something about her writing just makes my skin crawl.
Last week I headed to the Royal Albert Hall for the Proms. The New York Philharmonic was playing Tchaikovskii, which can never go wrong, really. For one thing, the building itself is great. The Hall was designed by Captain Francis Fowke and Major-General Henry Y.D. Scott and built by Lucas Brothers. The designers were heavily influenced by ancient amphitheatres, and it shows. The place looks vaguely like a Roman Coliseum, with a huge organ in the middle. The acoustics of the building are actually not the best, but the setting makes up for it. I sat at the top, and thus got an excellent overview of everyone else. Unfortunately I didn’t take opera glasses, I would have had the best people watching post in London if I had.
Then this week I headed to Southbank to catch a multimedia rendition of Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Ok, I admit I have never been a Virginia Woolf fan. I partly blame my secondary school teachers for this, having been forced to read A Room of One’s Own, which I detested, in the 10th class. i think my general dislike also stems from a great mistrust of anything that suggests feminism, to which I have a vague allergy.
Those hesitations aside, the production was technically very well done. The Waves is a saturated and self- aware work, which it has been argued, represents a high-modernist destruction and reconstruction of the concept of the novel. Presented as a play, it comes across as a radio serial form an earlier era more than a standard script. The monologues are typically Woolf, interior free associating monologues with complex vocabulary. The characters are caricatures of themselves, with each fulfilling his inevitable destiny, and the man around whom much of the action revolves, Percival, is left voiceless, uttering not a word of his own throughout the performance. The actors and choreography were amazing. Minute detail was paid to every sound and image, creating an acute impact on the senses. The timing was impeccable and the mis-en-scene incredibly striking, accurately reflecting the obsessions of the modernist mindset. Various microphones planted around the stage captured every little twitch and rustle, while cameras also projected onto a screen emotionally vivid images at well-chosen moments. Technically the play was perfect. I thank God I was not born a member of the English upper middle class at the turn of the century, as more emotionally repressed environment I could not imagine. Still don’t think I will ever be a major Virginia Woolf fan though, something about her writing just makes my skin crawl.
3.9.08
the nutters are everywhere!
Well i have spent the past month swamped by the russian media, but today i have to confess i got sidetracked.
ok, mccain himself is bad enough. his choice of running mate on first glance seemed worst. the announcement that her unmarried 17 year old is 5 months pregnant with the kid of a high school drop out was just entertaining: right wing americans are so preachy on family issues that is amused me to see their hypocrisy revealed so publicly.
but the video on display in the office today was just scary:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/02/palins-church-may-have-sh_n_123205.html
click on the video part, and you will discover that:
1, an oil pipeline through canada is gods will
2. the war in iraq was gods will
what next? can this get any more absurd?
ok, mccain himself is bad enough. his choice of running mate on first glance seemed worst. the announcement that her unmarried 17 year old is 5 months pregnant with the kid of a high school drop out was just entertaining: right wing americans are so preachy on family issues that is amused me to see their hypocrisy revealed so publicly.
but the video on display in the office today was just scary:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/02/palins-church-may-have-sh_n_123205.html
click on the video part, and you will discover that:
1, an oil pipeline through canada is gods will
2. the war in iraq was gods will
what next? can this get any more absurd?
2.9.08
part III (what next?)
There is now no end to the number of petitions streaming in every day. todays pronouncement goes:
"There is no alternative to the independence of Nagorno-Karabakh," said Bako Saakyan, president of the breakaway Nagorno-Karabakh Republic. "The existing differences must be resolved through direct dialogue. Everyone should realize once and for all that independence has no alternative and cannot be a subject of speculation. Today we can proudly state that we have created a strong and capable army, a progressing country which complies with international standards and is one of the key factors ensuring stability in the region...Rest assured, this is only a matter of time," the NKR leader said.
incidently, today was the 17th anniversary of the NKR's self-declared independance. no one has recognized them yet, but clearly the dream is still alive, as the occasion was celebrated with much show in the republic's capital of Stepanakert.
in case you are unaware, this self proclaimed state is entirely surrounded by Azerbaijan, but its population of 138,000 (after a major exodus of azeris in the 1990s) is around 95% Armenian. However, the Karabakh Armenians speak a dialect of Armenian which is considerably different from that which is spoken in Armenia, making mutual comprehension at times difficult.
the Lonely planet has a book called Microstates. It is written in tongue and cheak and dedicates a page to all the unrecognised, self proclaimed states around the world. Some, like Cristiania, are well known. Others are not. i wonder if they all intend to petition the russian government for recognition? i think there were at least 80 or so in that book!
"There is no alternative to the independence of Nagorno-Karabakh," said Bako Saakyan, president of the breakaway Nagorno-Karabakh Republic. "The existing differences must be resolved through direct dialogue. Everyone should realize once and for all that independence has no alternative and cannot be a subject of speculation. Today we can proudly state that we have created a strong and capable army, a progressing country which complies with international standards and is one of the key factors ensuring stability in the region...Rest assured, this is only a matter of time," the NKR leader said.
incidently, today was the 17th anniversary of the NKR's self-declared independance. no one has recognized them yet, but clearly the dream is still alive, as the occasion was celebrated with much show in the republic's capital of Stepanakert.
in case you are unaware, this self proclaimed state is entirely surrounded by Azerbaijan, but its population of 138,000 (after a major exodus of azeris in the 1990s) is around 95% Armenian. However, the Karabakh Armenians speak a dialect of Armenian which is considerably different from that which is spoken in Armenia, making mutual comprehension at times difficult.
the Lonely planet has a book called Microstates. It is written in tongue and cheak and dedicates a page to all the unrecognised, self proclaimed states around the world. Some, like Cristiania, are well known. Others are not. i wonder if they all intend to petition the russian government for recognition? i think there were at least 80 or so in that book!
paris, yet again
strange how efficient the eurostar is in comparison to all other trains in Britain. The journey time from London to paris is now less than 2 hours and 15 minutes, and the ride is smooth, far more so than my little nightly commute home, and more so than 3 years ago, when I was a regular commuter on the paris-london line.
So it has now been three years since I moved away from france. I have more or less switched here to writing in English, and I think in English more as well. (not that everyone is impressed by this great transition, given how often I am asked what my native tongue is!!)
Paris is good for visiting, far better than it is for living. So Sunday, as the weather held, I wandered around the right bank, dragging my 2 friends from one old haunt to another. We had brunch at le fumoir, where yaelle and I used to spend endless slow Sunday afternoons back in 2004-2005. I always find it amazing how so much is closed on Sundays in france. When I worked there is always really annoyed me: I worked on Saturdays, so I always had to run around after work and stock up on things, knowing everything would be closed the next day.
I also find it amazing how little the city changes comparatively. Three years have passed since I lived here, and still all the bars and restaurants I used to frequent are still in place. The shops have the same names and some even the same menu. I still know where things are and where to get what I need/want. This is such a contrast to, for example, Moscow, where there is more change in 6 months than in a paris decade. I sometimes find the endless continuity reassuring though, and it certainly makes it easier to play the tour guide!
But despite the continuity, I am aware how quickly time passes: it has been 3 years since I lived in paris, 4 since Budapest, 5 since Moscow, 8 since st Petersburg, 9 since montreal….and 27 since the friend I am showing around and I first met in the play yard of a school, whose name I no longer remember.
So it has now been three years since I moved away from france. I have more or less switched here to writing in English, and I think in English more as well. (not that everyone is impressed by this great transition, given how often I am asked what my native tongue is!!)
Paris is good for visiting, far better than it is for living. So Sunday, as the weather held, I wandered around the right bank, dragging my 2 friends from one old haunt to another. We had brunch at le fumoir, where yaelle and I used to spend endless slow Sunday afternoons back in 2004-2005. I always find it amazing how so much is closed on Sundays in france. When I worked there is always really annoyed me: I worked on Saturdays, so I always had to run around after work and stock up on things, knowing everything would be closed the next day.
I also find it amazing how little the city changes comparatively. Three years have passed since I lived here, and still all the bars and restaurants I used to frequent are still in place. The shops have the same names and some even the same menu. I still know where things are and where to get what I need/want. This is such a contrast to, for example, Moscow, where there is more change in 6 months than in a paris decade. I sometimes find the endless continuity reassuring though, and it certainly makes it easier to play the tour guide!
But despite the continuity, I am aware how quickly time passes: it has been 3 years since I lived in paris, 4 since Budapest, 5 since Moscow, 8 since st Petersburg, 9 since montreal….and 27 since the friend I am showing around and I first met in the play yard of a school, whose name I no longer remember.
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