Well the last posting was quasi a joke. I couldn’t believe a representative of Somaliland would really write my office here to ask the Russian government for recognition of Somalilands independence. But several other mini states have been in touch since, with similar requests. Some get taken seriously, others don’t. this one did:
"Transdniestria has by no means been thrown overboard. I believe that we've still got everything ahead of us," Oleg Gudymo told X in connection with Russia's recognition of the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia. "Fortunately, in Moldova the ruling elite has turned out to be much more intelligent than the Georgian one. Moldovan nationalism is not as terrible as Georgian nationalism. And President Vladimir Voronin is a wise politician and is unlike Saakashvili, who has gone crazy," Gudymo said. "I believe it is Moldova that should be the first to recognize us," he said. “If they want to live in peace with us they have no other option because they realize that we will never go back on our position," Gudymo said.
That combined with the statement issued today by Dmitry Rogozin that "We will ensure the safety of our citizens no matter where they live - among polar bears or in Africa or in the United States. Ensuring the safety and human dignity of Russian citizens is the constitutional duty of our leadership," Rogozin stressed.
This was said on the radio (Ekho Moskvy) in response to a question about the Russian community in Crimea. Draw your own conclusions!
28.8.08
26.8.08
dilemmas
When you work for the media, I guess you get used to dealing with lots of unexpected people and situations. i never would have guessed three months ago that I would have had some of the experiences I have recently. I have had breakfast with the Malaysian minister of tourism (lots of charts on the success of the Malaysia Truly Asia campaign) and I have one with the prime minister of Georgia coming up at the Ritz in Geneva in a few weeks. I have also met some powerful bankers, industrialist and government officials. But I still have yet to figure out how to deal with my increasingly odd correspondence. This morning I came in to find this email waiting for me. Honestly, my heart goes out to the people of Somaliland. Everyone I know who has been concurs that it is functioning as a separate entity and has been for years….but I am neither the UN nor the president of anything- what can I do? i am just a poor phd student!!!!
Dear Madam,
Kindly pass my greetings to H.E the Minister of Foreign Affairs
I understand the Russian Federation is in discussion to recognise Abkhazia and South Ossetia. This is welcome news to us people of the unrecognised republic of Somaliland as we share the predicament of these two peoples and the people of Transdniestra too. Your Excellcies we have been seeking recognition for 17 years. We have far more de facto and de jure claim to Statehood than Kosovo and all other countries of former Yugoslavia none of whom suffered anywhere near the oppression we in Somaliland suffered at the hands of Somalia. Your Excellency I challenge anyone to look into this in any detail and come to any different conclusions. We have secure borders, clear historical timeline of nationhood, elected national and local institutions, the rule of law, our own currency and passports; our own legal system and seperate judiciary yet we have been ignored and dissmissed by the Western nations for reasons beyond our comprehension. It appears they have one rule for the Balkans and the Caucuses and Russia and another for the rest of the World.
A recognition of Somaliland will show Russia is principled nation which values the self-determination and human dignity for all nations unlike the patronising West who are smothering our young nation to death with neglect and indifference. A recognition of Somaliland will also once more demonstrate Russia has its own independent global policy which is based not on self-interest like the West but on principle. It will win Russia an eternal little friend on the shores of the Red Sea. It will be the first African nation which Russian is taught in schools. Russian companies will be given a priority on investment. Putingrads and Medvdevgrads will adorn the deserts of Horn of Africa.The Port of Berbera which you built in the 70s will be open to Russian ships and navy. Most importantly you will show the West's poltical hypocrisy and double-standards when it comes to international affairs. And there is not one single negative poltical fallout for Russia from recognsiing a deserving little country. Even Somalia itself is happy for Somaliland to secede. Ask their ambassdor in Moscow.
Thank you,
X
Dear Madam,
Kindly pass my greetings to H.E the Minister of Foreign Affairs
I understand the Russian Federation is in discussion to recognise Abkhazia and South Ossetia. This is welcome news to us people of the unrecognised republic of Somaliland as we share the predicament of these two peoples and the people of Transdniestra too. Your Excellcies we have been seeking recognition for 17 years. We have far more de facto and de jure claim to Statehood than Kosovo and all other countries of former Yugoslavia none of whom suffered anywhere near the oppression we in Somaliland suffered at the hands of Somalia. Your Excellency I challenge anyone to look into this in any detail and come to any different conclusions. We have secure borders, clear historical timeline of nationhood, elected national and local institutions, the rule of law, our own currency and passports; our own legal system and seperate judiciary yet we have been ignored and dissmissed by the Western nations for reasons beyond our comprehension. It appears they have one rule for the Balkans and the Caucuses and Russia and another for the rest of the World.
A recognition of Somaliland will show Russia is principled nation which values the self-determination and human dignity for all nations unlike the patronising West who are smothering our young nation to death with neglect and indifference. A recognition of Somaliland will also once more demonstrate Russia has its own independent global policy which is based not on self-interest like the West but on principle. It will win Russia an eternal little friend on the shores of the Red Sea. It will be the first African nation which Russian is taught in schools. Russian companies will be given a priority on investment. Putingrads and Medvdevgrads will adorn the deserts of Horn of Africa.The Port of Berbera which you built in the 70s will be open to Russian ships and navy. Most importantly you will show the West's poltical hypocrisy and double-standards when it comes to international affairs. And there is not one single negative poltical fallout for Russia from recognsiing a deserving little country. Even Somalia itself is happy for Somaliland to secede. Ask their ambassdor in Moscow.
Thank you,
X
25.8.08
music
it has been a bank holiday weekend here in england. one of those bank holidays i shall never understand the purpose of, but if am never one to object to....a day out of the office?
normal people would have written " a day off work" but actually i did go into work today, on the holiday, but it was my fun job, at the bookshop, and i only did a 4 hour shift, for which i will receive double pay, so no complaints there!
in the evenings, after all the counting up had been done in the back office of the shop, i went home to work on my very neglected thesis. it is sometimes hard to remember that i came to this country to do a phd. sometimes it seems that since i have been here, i have done everything except that. i often regret having ever started it, but i do want to finish, i have wasted to much time on it not to.
so i got home, changed into my domashnaia odezhda and tried to edit. but i realised something was missing! my Ethiopian music!
i have always had eclectic taste, but there are very few things i can productively work to. i cannot work at all though, without music or distraction of some sort. so for the past few months, i have turned on my Ethiopian tunes before even bothering to open word.
All the albums i have were made during the supposed golden age of ethiopian sound, a remarkably brief period between 1969 and 1975. but the stuff produced in those 6 short years was enough to fill albums of incredible variety. the influence of western jazz is strong, as are Armenian rhythms, apparently the result of the Arba Lijoch, a group of 40 Armenian orphans who escaped from the Armenian genocide in Turkey, and were then, randomly, adopted by Haile Selassie of Ethiopia. For some reason, the emperor concluded Armenians were unusually musical and paid for their ongoing musical training. Selassie didnt much like the decadent sounds that came out of his country in his last years, and tried to stop the musicians from performing live concerts. but that was nothing compared to the Derg, which executed and imprisoned tens of thousands of its opponents without trial, hitting the musical community hard. Those who were left were forced underground or into exile. one has to wonder what would have happened had the political situation gone another way?
normal people would have written " a day off work" but actually i did go into work today, on the holiday, but it was my fun job, at the bookshop, and i only did a 4 hour shift, for which i will receive double pay, so no complaints there!
in the evenings, after all the counting up had been done in the back office of the shop, i went home to work on my very neglected thesis. it is sometimes hard to remember that i came to this country to do a phd. sometimes it seems that since i have been here, i have done everything except that. i often regret having ever started it, but i do want to finish, i have wasted to much time on it not to.
so i got home, changed into my domashnaia odezhda and tried to edit. but i realised something was missing! my Ethiopian music!
i have always had eclectic taste, but there are very few things i can productively work to. i cannot work at all though, without music or distraction of some sort. so for the past few months, i have turned on my Ethiopian tunes before even bothering to open word.
All the albums i have were made during the supposed golden age of ethiopian sound, a remarkably brief period between 1969 and 1975. but the stuff produced in those 6 short years was enough to fill albums of incredible variety. the influence of western jazz is strong, as are Armenian rhythms, apparently the result of the Arba Lijoch, a group of 40 Armenian orphans who escaped from the Armenian genocide in Turkey, and were then, randomly, adopted by Haile Selassie of Ethiopia. For some reason, the emperor concluded Armenians were unusually musical and paid for their ongoing musical training. Selassie didnt much like the decadent sounds that came out of his country in his last years, and tried to stop the musicians from performing live concerts. but that was nothing compared to the Derg, which executed and imprisoned tens of thousands of its opponents without trial, hitting the musical community hard. Those who were left were forced underground or into exile. one has to wonder what would have happened had the political situation gone another way?
23.8.08
entertainment
in the middle of my shift at the bookshop, james walked up to me and handed me a sheet of paper, reading
drab as a fool, aloof as a bard
a man, a plan, a canal: panama
I smirked at his pedantry and snarkily informed him I am generally more interested in content than form.
But then, this week, back in my cubicle, I started thinking in desperation and boredom:
Коростели летели, летели, ..., летели лет сорок
Socorram-me subi no onibus em Marrocos
I topi non avevano nipoti
Then I remember that when it comes to linguistic formalism, the hungarians always go over board:
Kis erek mentén, láp sík ölén odavan a bánya rabja: jaj, Baranyában a vadon élő Kis Pálnét nem keresik
such a strange tongue. no wonder the country produces so many scientists, if you can manage that, you can probably come up with anything.
drab as a fool, aloof as a bard
a man, a plan, a canal: panama
I smirked at his pedantry and snarkily informed him I am generally more interested in content than form.
But then, this week, back in my cubicle, I started thinking in desperation and boredom:
Коростели летели, летели, ..., летели лет сорок
Socorram-me subi no onibus em Marrocos
I topi non avevano nipoti
Then I remember that when it comes to linguistic formalism, the hungarians always go over board:
Kis erek mentén, láp sík ölén odavan a bánya rabja: jaj, Baranyában a vadon élő Kis Pálnét nem keresik
such a strange tongue. no wonder the country produces so many scientists, if you can manage that, you can probably come up with anything.
15.8.08
i saw it coming, but i didnt
when i accepted a job "representing" the russian media in western europe, i went into it with my eyes open, i thought.
everyone knows Russia doesnt have a free media, and hasnt for many years now. my division focuses on financial/commodities reports, so i didnt think this would matter. in any case, i needed the money, badly.
what i didnt expect was what has happened over the past week: a war in georgia, allegedly over two sad strips of land, and a massive propaganda campaign. i didnt expect that every time CNN or SKY news called me i would be given a script to read from. i didnt expect that i would be required to lie publicly, to clients, to the western media, and to investors. and lie i have. i have read out statements from the ministry of foreign affairs with a straight face, knowing perfectly well they consist of fantastical misrepresentations of the truth, some have been absurd to the point of comical. and i have listened as my friends in Gori, in tbilisi, and in sukhami have called me and held their phones in the air so i could here the shots and the screaming. at least the phones lines stayed open.
but most of all, i have concluded russia is weak and putin as scared as ever. this has nothing to do with the war itself, the situation in south ossetia and abhazia is not what i am getting at here (although i have been to both regions and know them well, i have been trying to tell people about the potential for conflict in abhkazia for YEARS now). rather, what is the most telling from my perspective is the way in which the russian leadership fears the media. the way in which it is apparently worried enough about the reality to restrict access to it. if you read the western media in the early days of this conflict, you probably noted all the western news stories were coming from the georgian side. you could say this reflects western media biases, but that is bullshit. the problem is russia restricted access of western journalists and prevented them from representing the russian side of the story. at the start of the conflict, my company and one other (also russian) were the only ones allowed in, giving us complete control over the media....or rather giving the russian government complete control over the media, since they are, ultimately, our bosses. now part of this is the result of endemic corruption (ie we can pay to make sure we are the only ones allowed to cover a story) but it is also the result of fear. what were the russian authorities so scared western journalists would find? that the russian troops were poorly trained and dreadfully fed? we all know this already. i think instead it was because of a mania for controlling the news, in any form, whether it is necessary or not. even if a western journalist wanted to write of the heroic efforts of russia in the region, they probably still would have been restricted, since the authorities trust no one over whom they do not have total control and veto powers.
so the stories that emerged are slanted on the georgian side, and the media filled with endless images of poor elderly georgian pensioners with destroyed houses behind them. russia might have succeeded militarily, but it has lost the image war in the west, and it has only itself to blame for that.
everyone knows Russia doesnt have a free media, and hasnt for many years now. my division focuses on financial/commodities reports, so i didnt think this would matter. in any case, i needed the money, badly.
what i didnt expect was what has happened over the past week: a war in georgia, allegedly over two sad strips of land, and a massive propaganda campaign. i didnt expect that every time CNN or SKY news called me i would be given a script to read from. i didnt expect that i would be required to lie publicly, to clients, to the western media, and to investors. and lie i have. i have read out statements from the ministry of foreign affairs with a straight face, knowing perfectly well they consist of fantastical misrepresentations of the truth, some have been absurd to the point of comical. and i have listened as my friends in Gori, in tbilisi, and in sukhami have called me and held their phones in the air so i could here the shots and the screaming. at least the phones lines stayed open.
but most of all, i have concluded russia is weak and putin as scared as ever. this has nothing to do with the war itself, the situation in south ossetia and abhazia is not what i am getting at here (although i have been to both regions and know them well, i have been trying to tell people about the potential for conflict in abhkazia for YEARS now). rather, what is the most telling from my perspective is the way in which the russian leadership fears the media. the way in which it is apparently worried enough about the reality to restrict access to it. if you read the western media in the early days of this conflict, you probably noted all the western news stories were coming from the georgian side. you could say this reflects western media biases, but that is bullshit. the problem is russia restricted access of western journalists and prevented them from representing the russian side of the story. at the start of the conflict, my company and one other (also russian) were the only ones allowed in, giving us complete control over the media....or rather giving the russian government complete control over the media, since they are, ultimately, our bosses. now part of this is the result of endemic corruption (ie we can pay to make sure we are the only ones allowed to cover a story) but it is also the result of fear. what were the russian authorities so scared western journalists would find? that the russian troops were poorly trained and dreadfully fed? we all know this already. i think instead it was because of a mania for controlling the news, in any form, whether it is necessary or not. even if a western journalist wanted to write of the heroic efforts of russia in the region, they probably still would have been restricted, since the authorities trust no one over whom they do not have total control and veto powers.
so the stories that emerged are slanted on the georgian side, and the media filled with endless images of poor elderly georgian pensioners with destroyed houses behind them. russia might have succeeded militarily, but it has lost the image war in the west, and it has only itself to blame for that.
7.8.08
money
so there is apparently a recession on. combined with that soaring fuel prices and 60 million seats slashed from airline schedueles. with the result that i just paid 1,200 pounds for a ticket which this time last year would have cost me 700. ouch.
4.8.08
food
Ok I am the first to admit I am a pig. I like my food, I always have.
I like trying different tastes and exploring different cuisines. And, since I still preserve the manners of a broke student, I can never ever pass up the site of free food.
So, Friday was a slow day. My boss didn't show up, as he often doesn't on Fridays. And he thus forgot that he and another college were meant to be going to a meeting at canary wharf with a major investment bank. So I went in his place. I wasn't really looking forward to it, it wasn't in my territory, and these presentations are normally a bit stressful, so going to one last minute on a Friday afternoon was not my idea of a good time.
So we got to canary wharf and went to the bank. We were escorted into a large conference room, at which point our jaws dropped. There was a massive and beautiful wood table, filled with a mouth watering spread of delicacies. There was a cheese platter, an enormous fruit platter of pineapple, apricot, blackberries, strawberries kiwi and blueberries. There was a silver tray of biscuits neatly arranged in a display. Then there was another platter of savoury biscuits to go with the cheese selection….
We stared in awe for a moment, then negotiated….could we get away with a bite? Was this for us? Would anyone notice if we dug in? could we get away with sticking some of the grub in my purse for later? At least some wrapped chocolates?
We couldn't resists, we munched some berries, assuming they were little enough not to be notices. Then we decided we should finish ALL the blackberries, cause it would be obvious if there was only one or two left….one thing led to another and we were discreetly wolfing down gobs of expensive food. And we got away with it. Eventually the clients showed up. They didn't give a crap about the presentation, they were bored and looking to spend their Friday as painlessly as possible. One handed me a plate and invited me to dig in, which I did, again.
I like trying different tastes and exploring different cuisines. And, since I still preserve the manners of a broke student, I can never ever pass up the site of free food.
So, Friday was a slow day. My boss didn't show up, as he often doesn't on Fridays. And he thus forgot that he and another college were meant to be going to a meeting at canary wharf with a major investment bank. So I went in his place. I wasn't really looking forward to it, it wasn't in my territory, and these presentations are normally a bit stressful, so going to one last minute on a Friday afternoon was not my idea of a good time.
So we got to canary wharf and went to the bank. We were escorted into a large conference room, at which point our jaws dropped. There was a massive and beautiful wood table, filled with a mouth watering spread of delicacies. There was a cheese platter, an enormous fruit platter of pineapple, apricot, blackberries, strawberries kiwi and blueberries. There was a silver tray of biscuits neatly arranged in a display. Then there was another platter of savoury biscuits to go with the cheese selection….
We stared in awe for a moment, then negotiated….could we get away with a bite? Was this for us? Would anyone notice if we dug in? could we get away with sticking some of the grub in my purse for later? At least some wrapped chocolates?
We couldn't resists, we munched some berries, assuming they were little enough not to be notices. Then we decided we should finish ALL the blackberries, cause it would be obvious if there was only one or two left….one thing led to another and we were discreetly wolfing down gobs of expensive food. And we got away with it. Eventually the clients showed up. They didn't give a crap about the presentation, they were bored and looking to spend their Friday as painlessly as possible. One handed me a plate and invited me to dig in, which I did, again.
30.7.08
battle royale
The summer of 2004 was a dismal one. I spent most of it on my friends couch. I was unemployed and had just had my visa to live in hungary revoked, forcing me to leave the country and move to paris, where (I was told at the time) I should work while killing time over the course next year, waiting to be allowed to begin a doctorate in another country. Had all of this happened just a few months later, it would have been unnecessary, hungary would have been in the EU and I wouldn't have needed the visa anyway to stay on there.
But things happened the way they did and I ended up unemployed and in paris.
It was a bad summer, but it would have been a lot worse without the gloomily entertaining presence of Laurent.
Laurent actually was employed, he just barely ever bothered to show up at his workplace. He got away with this as apparently he was a genius in some aspect of computer engineering. Since periodically his company would fly him to 5 star hotels in odd places (gabon, chad) I guess he must indeed have been bright.
He was also depressive, yet amusing in an off beat way. He liked gory asian films where lots of people get killed. So the best parts of that summer were spent on the couch watching strange Japanese, Chinese and Korean murder films with Laurent. I eventually got a job and he followed some girl (kiki? Miki? Niki?) off to gabon, I haven't seen him since. But then this weekend I was doing some returns at the bookshop, when the barcodes on my clipboard sent me into the manga section, which I normally avoid due to the unpleasant body odour that tends to accompany the teenage boys to that part of the shop.
There, going through the mangas to find the right ISBNs, my eyes passed over a copy of Battle Royale, one of the first of the many gory asian flicks I watched with Laurent.
If you don't know it, battle royale is a gory Japanese modern-day lord of the flies. Japan has turned into a police state, known as the Republic of Greater East Asia. In this sick society, obsessed by reality TV, a show called The Programme has developed. Supposedly started as a military research project, The Program is a means of terrorising the population, of creating such paranoia as to make organised insurgency impossible. According to the rules, every year since 1947, fifty 3rd year junior high school (14-15 years old) classes are isolated, and the students required to fight to the death until one student remains. Their movements are restricted and monitored by metal collars around their necks which contain tracking and listening devices; if any student should attempt to escape The Program, or enter declared "danger zones", a bomb will be detonated in the collar, killing the wearer. If the students refuse to participate, they will all be killed simultaneously. As you might imagine, a brave protagonist steps forward to attempt to destroy the perverted and twisted system.
So, anyway, I bought the manga, took it home and started reading. The quality of the images astonishes me, and the story is so dark you cant help get pulled in. to my surprise (I am not normally a manga reader) I found myself this afternoon placing an order on amazon for the next ones in the series. I already know how it all ends, but I want to read/see it again for myself in print.
But things happened the way they did and I ended up unemployed and in paris.
It was a bad summer, but it would have been a lot worse without the gloomily entertaining presence of Laurent.
Laurent actually was employed, he just barely ever bothered to show up at his workplace. He got away with this as apparently he was a genius in some aspect of computer engineering. Since periodically his company would fly him to 5 star hotels in odd places (gabon, chad) I guess he must indeed have been bright.
He was also depressive, yet amusing in an off beat way. He liked gory asian films where lots of people get killed. So the best parts of that summer were spent on the couch watching strange Japanese, Chinese and Korean murder films with Laurent. I eventually got a job and he followed some girl (kiki? Miki? Niki?) off to gabon, I haven't seen him since. But then this weekend I was doing some returns at the bookshop, when the barcodes on my clipboard sent me into the manga section, which I normally avoid due to the unpleasant body odour that tends to accompany the teenage boys to that part of the shop.
There, going through the mangas to find the right ISBNs, my eyes passed over a copy of Battle Royale, one of the first of the many gory asian flicks I watched with Laurent.
If you don't know it, battle royale is a gory Japanese modern-day lord of the flies. Japan has turned into a police state, known as the Republic of Greater East Asia. In this sick society, obsessed by reality TV, a show called The Programme has developed. Supposedly started as a military research project, The Program is a means of terrorising the population, of creating such paranoia as to make organised insurgency impossible. According to the rules, every year since 1947, fifty 3rd year junior high school (14-15 years old) classes are isolated, and the students required to fight to the death until one student remains. Their movements are restricted and monitored by metal collars around their necks which contain tracking and listening devices; if any student should attempt to escape The Program, or enter declared "danger zones", a bomb will be detonated in the collar, killing the wearer. If the students refuse to participate, they will all be killed simultaneously. As you might imagine, a brave protagonist steps forward to attempt to destroy the perverted and twisted system.
So, anyway, I bought the manga, took it home and started reading. The quality of the images astonishes me, and the story is so dark you cant help get pulled in. to my surprise (I am not normally a manga reader) I found myself this afternoon placing an order on amazon for the next ones in the series. I already know how it all ends, but I want to read/see it again for myself in print.
24.7.08
double life
It is more a triple life in reality, as I am supposed to be doing a phd. But that has been relegated to the side for the moment. Even I can only juggle so much.
So yesterday I left the office at the usual time, with the usual pleasantries of the "have a nice evening sort." But my evening directed me to my other job for the annual stock take.
I get called up for this every year. This is partly because I am one of the few who is willing. Most people complain endlessly that it is dull and inconvenient, but my view is pragmatic: free pizza, easy work and double pay. I don't see any reason to object! My entry from last year describes the routine: squads of around 40 indian guys come into the shop right after closing and start beeping the books. They spread throughout the place, and we follow with endless sheets of paper, checking up behind them. We work through the night, mainly underground (our lowest floor is Europe's largest underground trading area) wandering around the shelves like zombies, refuelling on bad pizza and nachos when necessary. This year, as the "experienced" member of staff I had to go through the safe and cash office as well, counting up every piece of paper that could resemble a voucher or certificate.
Every time they send me home in a taxi (which they have to do by contract after midnight) I wonder at how empty the streets are. The city whirls past and only the occasional drunk reveller is still on the street. and I know things will look very different a few hours later when I am heading back to the centre, to my other job, and it all begins again…..
So yesterday I left the office at the usual time, with the usual pleasantries of the "have a nice evening sort." But my evening directed me to my other job for the annual stock take.
I get called up for this every year. This is partly because I am one of the few who is willing. Most people complain endlessly that it is dull and inconvenient, but my view is pragmatic: free pizza, easy work and double pay. I don't see any reason to object! My entry from last year describes the routine: squads of around 40 indian guys come into the shop right after closing and start beeping the books. They spread throughout the place, and we follow with endless sheets of paper, checking up behind them. We work through the night, mainly underground (our lowest floor is Europe's largest underground trading area) wandering around the shelves like zombies, refuelling on bad pizza and nachos when necessary. This year, as the "experienced" member of staff I had to go through the safe and cash office as well, counting up every piece of paper that could resemble a voucher or certificate.
Every time they send me home in a taxi (which they have to do by contract after midnight) I wonder at how empty the streets are. The city whirls past and only the occasional drunk reveller is still on the street. and I know things will look very different a few hours later when I am heading back to the centre, to my other job, and it all begins again…..
22.7.08
out of office messages
1. I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position. I may be a little moody so be prepared.
2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.
3. Sorry to have missed you, but I am at the doctor's having my brain removed so I can be promoted to our management team.
4. I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from vacation on 4/18. Please be patient, and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.
5. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged £115.99 for the first 10 words and £11.99 for each additional word in your message.
6. The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again. (The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in-duh-viduals did this over and over.)
7. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.
8. Hi, I'm thinking about what you've just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.
9. I've run away to join a different circus.
2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.
3. Sorry to have missed you, but I am at the doctor's having my brain removed so I can be promoted to our management team.
4. I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from vacation on 4/18. Please be patient, and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.
5. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged £115.99 for the first 10 words and £11.99 for each additional word in your message.
6. The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again. (The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in-duh-viduals did this over and over.)
7. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.
8. Hi, I'm thinking about what you've just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.
9. I've run away to join a different circus.
14.7.08
the gym
I have become a regular at the gym near, not out of a love for physical fitness, but rather out of boredom.
Going to the gym is one of the few socially acceptable reasons to spend lots of time out of the office. For some reason, if you say you are meeting a friend, or going shopping, this does not meet the criteria, and you can be accused of being lazy, or not pulling your weight. However, taking an hour and a half in the middle of the day to go work out is fine, in fact it is commended, it shows drive and energy, which is apparently mentally linked to ambition.
So, seeing this, I went off to the gym around the corner and asked what I have to do (and how much I have to pay) to become a member.
I was taken to a little room to have a "consultation" with a "personal fitness consultant," who turned out to be a nice south African guy about my age. I later realised that everyone who works in this particular gym is apparently from south Africa, oddly.
So the guy went through a list of pre-prescribed questions seeking to establish why I wanted to become a member: did I want to tone my body? Improve my sex life? Increase my strength? Endurance levels?
No, I replied. i am looking for an acceptable reason to escape the office
The guy looked at me like I was nuts. But I am sure I am not the only person in this position, I am probably just the first to admit to it. In the end, I took a sample 3 month membership to see if I like it.
I have been going at least 3 times a week since then. It is a bizarre experience. Given that the area I work in is overwhelmingly male, and that the few women in the area tend to be secretaries (and thus unlikely to be able to afford the ridiculous costs), I am often the only female in the place. Sometimes I get the whole changing room to myself, including the whirlpool and sauna area. On Fridays after using the equipment I go in their and just lay about, passing the time and splashing water on the wood.
The actually exercise area is a mirror of my office: filled with alfa males preening in front of the mirrors and each other. they totally ignore me, which is a relief. but i study them endlessly, it has become a sociological observation unit in my head. i feel like a fly on the wall observing a world i can barely comprehend.
Going to the gym is one of the few socially acceptable reasons to spend lots of time out of the office. For some reason, if you say you are meeting a friend, or going shopping, this does not meet the criteria, and you can be accused of being lazy, or not pulling your weight. However, taking an hour and a half in the middle of the day to go work out is fine, in fact it is commended, it shows drive and energy, which is apparently mentally linked to ambition.
So, seeing this, I went off to the gym around the corner and asked what I have to do (and how much I have to pay) to become a member.
I was taken to a little room to have a "consultation" with a "personal fitness consultant," who turned out to be a nice south African guy about my age. I later realised that everyone who works in this particular gym is apparently from south Africa, oddly.
So the guy went through a list of pre-prescribed questions seeking to establish why I wanted to become a member: did I want to tone my body? Improve my sex life? Increase my strength? Endurance levels?
No, I replied. i am looking for an acceptable reason to escape the office
The guy looked at me like I was nuts. But I am sure I am not the only person in this position, I am probably just the first to admit to it. In the end, I took a sample 3 month membership to see if I like it.
I have been going at least 3 times a week since then. It is a bizarre experience. Given that the area I work in is overwhelmingly male, and that the few women in the area tend to be secretaries (and thus unlikely to be able to afford the ridiculous costs), I am often the only female in the place. Sometimes I get the whole changing room to myself, including the whirlpool and sauna area. On Fridays after using the equipment I go in their and just lay about, passing the time and splashing water on the wood.
The actually exercise area is a mirror of my office: filled with alfa males preening in front of the mirrors and each other. they totally ignore me, which is a relief. but i study them endlessly, it has become a sociological observation unit in my head. i feel like a fly on the wall observing a world i can barely comprehend.
9.7.08
the line of beauty
my sudden tour of the thatcher kingdom that is canary wharf, combined with the upcoming Booker of Booker award (celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Booker prize) led me to pick up a copy of Alan Hollinghurst's The Line of Beauty.
I had been aware of the book for some time. it was a regular sellar at the book shop as well as a staff favourite, but it was only now i managed to pick up a copy and read it. on the one hand, i regret that i waited so long to enjoy this masterpiece, but on the other hand, maybe it is better. I can appreciate it all the more now within my current setting here in the City.
Many people have labelled the book "gay fiction" or a "gay romance" but i find these labels absurd. yes the protagonist is gay.....and? sure, there are plenty of gay sex scenes, but i fail to see how this makes the book worth button holing in such a fashion. if it needs classification, i would put it as a brilliant social satire, or even a historical memory of Thatcher's London, in the same way that Tom Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanieties is a brilliant documentary of Reagan's United States.
It begins in the summer of 1983 "the last summer of its kind there was ever to be." Young and impressionable Nick (an ultimately middle class boy) moves to london and stays with his friend's parents. the father is a palpably ambitious tory MP, determined to impress the Prime Minister (or The Lady as she is generally refered to). Nick is given a front row seat to the happenings and pretensions of the time.
And what a ruthless decade the 80s was....and a self satisfied one too, for some. with a keen eye for social nuance, Hollinghurst recreates this universe with almost scary accuracy. it is all there: the bankers and their coke addiction, the self important Tory MPs who declare "the 80s are going on forever" as 3.5 british citizens are without jobs and mines are closing all over the north, the Diana hair cuts, AIDS, and Every Breath You Take.
Nick is and is not part of this world, and in such a way is the perfect observor, close enough to comment accurately but still reflective. A PhD student at UCL, he is obsessed by aesthetic beauty which he pursues relentlessly amist a world of ultimately philistine Tories who seem to see art exclusively as a symbol or social advancement. Intrigued by Hogarth's Line of Beauty, he attempts to create an artistic world together with his millionaire Lebanese lover. So, yes there is a gay love story, but it is the personalities of the characters that intrigue me. I was just old enough to remember these times, and i recognise too well some of the types: the vulgar businessman turned millionaire by creating an empire, but still remains the crude entrepreneur, the disatisfied who are always lurking beneath the shiny surface. it reminds me of the parties i attended at the time: the posh tory parents who drank too much and disappeared to the bath room to cut lines with their platenum credit cards, leaving us (the kids) to lounge bored around the pool. i remember all to clearly the time my classmate (we were about 11 or 12) took the keys to his dad's Mercedes.....and drove it into a lake....he swam out through the window. the parents grounded him for 2 weeks, and bought another Mercedes.
a vulgar and excessive time.
I had been aware of the book for some time. it was a regular sellar at the book shop as well as a staff favourite, but it was only now i managed to pick up a copy and read it. on the one hand, i regret that i waited so long to enjoy this masterpiece, but on the other hand, maybe it is better. I can appreciate it all the more now within my current setting here in the City.
Many people have labelled the book "gay fiction" or a "gay romance" but i find these labels absurd. yes the protagonist is gay.....and? sure, there are plenty of gay sex scenes, but i fail to see how this makes the book worth button holing in such a fashion. if it needs classification, i would put it as a brilliant social satire, or even a historical memory of Thatcher's London, in the same way that Tom Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanieties is a brilliant documentary of Reagan's United States.
It begins in the summer of 1983 "the last summer of its kind there was ever to be." Young and impressionable Nick (an ultimately middle class boy) moves to london and stays with his friend's parents. the father is a palpably ambitious tory MP, determined to impress the Prime Minister (or The Lady as she is generally refered to). Nick is given a front row seat to the happenings and pretensions of the time.
And what a ruthless decade the 80s was....and a self satisfied one too, for some. with a keen eye for social nuance, Hollinghurst recreates this universe with almost scary accuracy. it is all there: the bankers and their coke addiction, the self important Tory MPs who declare "the 80s are going on forever" as 3.5 british citizens are without jobs and mines are closing all over the north, the Diana hair cuts, AIDS, and Every Breath You Take.
Nick is and is not part of this world, and in such a way is the perfect observor, close enough to comment accurately but still reflective. A PhD student at UCL, he is obsessed by aesthetic beauty which he pursues relentlessly amist a world of ultimately philistine Tories who seem to see art exclusively as a symbol or social advancement. Intrigued by Hogarth's Line of Beauty, he attempts to create an artistic world together with his millionaire Lebanese lover. So, yes there is a gay love story, but it is the personalities of the characters that intrigue me. I was just old enough to remember these times, and i recognise too well some of the types: the vulgar businessman turned millionaire by creating an empire, but still remains the crude entrepreneur, the disatisfied who are always lurking beneath the shiny surface. it reminds me of the parties i attended at the time: the posh tory parents who drank too much and disappeared to the bath room to cut lines with their platenum credit cards, leaving us (the kids) to lounge bored around the pool. i remember all to clearly the time my classmate (we were about 11 or 12) took the keys to his dad's Mercedes.....and drove it into a lake....he swam out through the window. the parents grounded him for 2 weeks, and bought another Mercedes.
a vulgar and excessive time.
8.7.08
canary wharf
aside from some hedge funds in the west end, london has two main business centres: the city and canary wharf.
i sucessfully avoided these areas until this past month when i took a job in the city. there was actually no real reason why i avoided the city before, it is just that i never had any real reason to go there. now every day i arrived in a metro car that resembles a game of sardines, and i am normally the only woman except for the occassional secretary.
since there is a lot of business between the two, it seems i shall also frequently be expected to go to canary wharf.
According to wikipedia (ever reliable source that it is!) Canary Wharf is built on the site of the old West India Docks on the Isle of Dogs. From 1802 to 1980, the area was one of the busiest docks in the world, with at one point 50,000 employed. According to the guy in a siut i found myself sitting accross from yesterday, it used to be completely cut off from london. The man was telling me that he had been raised in the docklands, back when it had functioned as a seperate entity with its own police force and restricted enterance. apparently, Canary Wharf itself takes its name from the sea trade with the Canary Islands, whose name comes from the dogs which the Spaniards found there (think in latin here), producing the terms Dog Islands and the Isle of Dogs.
but then the world economy changed, and the docks were useless and obsolete by the 1980s. so, the area is no longer a dock, but an english equivelent of paris's la defence, a wierd business complex partly cut off from the rest of the city, and so different architecturally that is appears more of a seperate entity entirely.
the place is a scary testament to thatcher and the 80s. The Big Bang deregulation of financial services in London radically changed the way merchant banks operated. Instead of the small, corridor and office based buildings occupied in the traditional square mile, like the building i am presently working in, the demand shifted to large floor-plate, open plan space which could be used as a trading floor. actually, i find these huge open plan creations horrid, i always feel i am being watched. but, that was the trend of the time and canary wharf is its lasting legacy. everything here is big and over sized. but i will admit there are some spectacular flats in this area. They all seem massive and well built, both unusual characteristics in london! they have large open spaces and huge windows overlooking the whole city. but i guess the downside is you have to spend all your time in canary wharf....
i sucessfully avoided these areas until this past month when i took a job in the city. there was actually no real reason why i avoided the city before, it is just that i never had any real reason to go there. now every day i arrived in a metro car that resembles a game of sardines, and i am normally the only woman except for the occassional secretary.
since there is a lot of business between the two, it seems i shall also frequently be expected to go to canary wharf.
According to wikipedia (ever reliable source that it is!) Canary Wharf is built on the site of the old West India Docks on the Isle of Dogs. From 1802 to 1980, the area was one of the busiest docks in the world, with at one point 50,000 employed. According to the guy in a siut i found myself sitting accross from yesterday, it used to be completely cut off from london. The man was telling me that he had been raised in the docklands, back when it had functioned as a seperate entity with its own police force and restricted enterance. apparently, Canary Wharf itself takes its name from the sea trade with the Canary Islands, whose name comes from the dogs which the Spaniards found there (think in latin here), producing the terms Dog Islands and the Isle of Dogs.
but then the world economy changed, and the docks were useless and obsolete by the 1980s. so, the area is no longer a dock, but an english equivelent of paris's la defence, a wierd business complex partly cut off from the rest of the city, and so different architecturally that is appears more of a seperate entity entirely.
the place is a scary testament to thatcher and the 80s. The Big Bang deregulation of financial services in London radically changed the way merchant banks operated. Instead of the small, corridor and office based buildings occupied in the traditional square mile, like the building i am presently working in, the demand shifted to large floor-plate, open plan space which could be used as a trading floor. actually, i find these huge open plan creations horrid, i always feel i am being watched. but, that was the trend of the time and canary wharf is its lasting legacy. everything here is big and over sized. but i will admit there are some spectacular flats in this area. They all seem massive and well built, both unusual characteristics in london! they have large open spaces and huge windows overlooking the whole city. but i guess the downside is you have to spend all your time in canary wharf....
the job
this afternoon i found myself in a suit, standing in front of a room of businessmen making a presentation in the middle of a massive development in Canary Warf.
i was the only woman in the room, just as i am the only woman (aside from HR) in my company.
i spent nearly an hour going over a database which provides market analysis. i rattled on about the usefulness of the project in due dilligence.
afterwards i wandered over to the ontario tower in canada square and inspected the cocktail bar, already filled with tipsy men in suits, even though it was only lunch time.
and at a certain point, i wondered how the hell i ended up here.
i was the only woman in the room, just as i am the only woman (aside from HR) in my company.
i spent nearly an hour going over a database which provides market analysis. i rattled on about the usefulness of the project in due dilligence.
afterwards i wandered over to the ontario tower in canada square and inspected the cocktail bar, already filled with tipsy men in suits, even though it was only lunch time.
and at a certain point, i wondered how the hell i ended up here.
7.7.08
milton keynes, take 2
those of you who have been reading this blog for years might remember an entry from several years back. it was my first weekend in the UK, and my good friend harry (who is not a fan of this country and spends as little time in it as possible, although he was in fact born in london) decided to horrify me. i think he wanted to pursuade me that i had made a grave error in relocating here, or maybe he just wanted to open my eyes fully to the reality of modern england.
in any case, he took me to milton keynes.
specifically, we went to the milton keynes leisure centre, which was probably as far from the world i was just leaving in paris as possible within the European continent.
milton keynes is one of the most culturally lacking places i have ever been (ok, it is not as bad and the MAll of Americas, but up there).
the whole place was strategically planned in the late 60s, and really took off under the dark days of thatcher when such planned communities were considered the way forward. the organisers planned the major road layout according to street hierarchy principles, using a grid pattern of approximately 1 km interval, rather than on the more conventional radialpattern found in older settlements. Major roads within the town run between communities, rather than through them: the major roads are known locally as grid roads and the spaces between them are known as grid squares. so, the place looks like a board game, with zero organic growth architecturally.
i wouldnt want to live here, but maybe i have something wrong with me. unemployment is practically non-existant, houses are larger and cheaper than in london, the birth rate is one of the highest in the country, and families are supposedly happy and intact (if you believe the locals, that is). for my views on the "leisure centre" see the early entry from September 2005.
regardless of what the place is or isnt, my recent evening spent there was truely lovely.
i dont get to see harry that often, so i have to take advantage of the opportunities i get, even if they happen to involve milton keynes. harry and his god mother picked me up at the station and took my to the god mothers house. there, harry and i had a long catching up chat in the back garden over tea while vivian prepared a delicious home cooked english meal. very rarely do you read praise of english cuisine in these pages, but this i assure you was delicious. very rarely do i ever get to have a home made meal in an actual home, including good company, a big dessert and endless cups of tea. the experience was so unusual it seemed strangely exotic.....
in any case, he took me to milton keynes.
specifically, we went to the milton keynes leisure centre, which was probably as far from the world i was just leaving in paris as possible within the European continent.
milton keynes is one of the most culturally lacking places i have ever been (ok, it is not as bad and the MAll of Americas, but up there).
the whole place was strategically planned in the late 60s, and really took off under the dark days of thatcher when such planned communities were considered the way forward. the organisers planned the major road layout according to street hierarchy principles, using a grid pattern of approximately 1 km interval, rather than on the more conventional radialpattern found in older settlements. Major roads within the town run between communities, rather than through them: the major roads are known locally as grid roads and the spaces between them are known as grid squares. so, the place looks like a board game, with zero organic growth architecturally.
i wouldnt want to live here, but maybe i have something wrong with me. unemployment is practically non-existant, houses are larger and cheaper than in london, the birth rate is one of the highest in the country, and families are supposedly happy and intact (if you believe the locals, that is). for my views on the "leisure centre" see the early entry from September 2005.
regardless of what the place is or isnt, my recent evening spent there was truely lovely.
i dont get to see harry that often, so i have to take advantage of the opportunities i get, even if they happen to involve milton keynes. harry and his god mother picked me up at the station and took my to the god mothers house. there, harry and i had a long catching up chat in the back garden over tea while vivian prepared a delicious home cooked english meal. very rarely do you read praise of english cuisine in these pages, but this i assure you was delicious. very rarely do i ever get to have a home made meal in an actual home, including good company, a big dessert and endless cups of tea. the experience was so unusual it seemed strangely exotic.....
2.7.08
the new strong russia?
I got this letter circulated to me by an old friend. he wrote it, it is about his family. now i work for the state media, and a brief inquiry into our computer system revealed nothing has, and most likely nothing will, be published on this....most likely because it is not in the local government's interest. so much for the state of law in putin, um, medvedev's russia.
ДОРОГИЕ ДРУЗЬЯ!
Я И МОЯ СЕМЬЯ СТАЛИ ЖЕРТВАМИ БАНДИСТКОГО ПРОИЗВОЛА, НАПРАВЛЕННОГО НА ЗАХВАТ БИЗНЕСА МОЕГО ОТЦА В Г. ЭНГЕЛЬСЕ, САРАТОВСКОЙ ОБЛАСТИ, ЗА КОТОРЫМ СТОЯТ ОТДЕЛЬНЫЕ СОТРУДНИКИ МЕСТНЫХ ПРАВООХРАНИТЕЛЬНЫХ ОРГАНОВ И АДМИНИСТРАЦИИ Г. ЭНГЕЛЬСА, САРАТОВСКОЙ ОБЛАСТИ. 17 МАЯ 2008 В ЕГО СЛУЖЕБНЫЙ АВТОМОБИЛЬ БЫЛ ПОДБРОШЕН ПИСТОЛЕТ.
20 МАЯ 2008 ГОДА ЗВОНИЛИ С УГРОЗАМИ МОЕЙ МАТЕРИ.
18 ИЮНЯ 2008 ЕМУ В ОФИС ПОДБРОСИЛИ НАРКОТИКИ.
ПРЕСТУПНИКИ МОГУТ ПОЙТИ НА ФИЗИЧЕСКОЕ УСТРАНЕНИЕ ОТЦА ИЛИ КОГО-ТО ИЗ ЧЛЕНОВ НАШЕЙ СЕМЬИ.
ЕСЛИ МОЖЕТЕ СООБЩИТЕ ЭТУ ИНФОРМАЦИЮ ТЕМ ВАШИМ ЗНАКОМЫМ (ВОЗМОЖНО ЖУРНАЛИСТАМ) , КОТОРЫЕ МОГЛИ БЫ СВЯЗАТЬСЯ СО МНОЙ И СООБЩИТЬ О ДАННОЙ ИСТОРИИ ШИРОКОЙ ПУБЛИКЕ.
СПАСИБО ЗА ПОДДЕРЖУ
X
----------
DEAR FRIENDS!
I AND MY FAMILY HAVE BEEN ATTACKED BY A GANG OF CRIMINALS FROM ENGELS, SARATOV REGION.
CRIMINALS ARE TRYING TO TAKE OVER MY FATHER’S (NIKOLAY MOTSNYI) BUSINESS WITH THE USE OF CORRUPTED LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIALS.
FIRST THEY PLANTED A GUN IN MY FATHER’S BUSINESS CAR ON 17 MAY 2008 AND HE WAS CHARGED WITH ILLEGAL POSSESSION OF FIREARMS.
CRIMINALS ORGANIZED A NEW ATTACK AND PLANTED DRUGS INTO THE OFFICE OF HIS COMPANY IN ENGELS, SARATOV REGION ON 18 JUNE (JUST 2 DAYS AFTER HE WAS CLEARED OFF THE PREVIOUS CHARGES).
MY MOTHER RECEIVED A PHONE CALL WITH A THREAT ON 20 MAY 2008.
THIS CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IS FULLY SUPPORTED BY SOME CORRUPTED MEMBERS OF LOCAL POLICE AND SOME OFFICIALS FROM ENGELS CITY ADMINISTRATION.
CRIMINALS ARE READY TO GO FURTHER AND MURDER MY FATHER OR ANYONE FROM OUR FAMILY.
IF YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO COULD CONTACT ME FOR MORE DETAILS AND TELL THIS STORY TO THE WIDER PUBLIC PLEASE FORWARD THIS MESSAGE TO HIM.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT
X
ДОРОГИЕ ДРУЗЬЯ!
Я И МОЯ СЕМЬЯ СТАЛИ ЖЕРТВАМИ БАНДИСТКОГО ПРОИЗВОЛА, НАПРАВЛЕННОГО НА ЗАХВАТ БИЗНЕСА МОЕГО ОТЦА В Г. ЭНГЕЛЬСЕ, САРАТОВСКОЙ ОБЛАСТИ, ЗА КОТОРЫМ СТОЯТ ОТДЕЛЬНЫЕ СОТРУДНИКИ МЕСТНЫХ ПРАВООХРАНИТЕЛЬНЫХ ОРГАНОВ И АДМИНИСТРАЦИИ Г. ЭНГЕЛЬСА, САРАТОВСКОЙ ОБЛАСТИ. 17 МАЯ 2008 В ЕГО СЛУЖЕБНЫЙ АВТОМОБИЛЬ БЫЛ ПОДБРОШЕН ПИСТОЛЕТ.
20 МАЯ 2008 ГОДА ЗВОНИЛИ С УГРОЗАМИ МОЕЙ МАТЕРИ.
18 ИЮНЯ 2008 ЕМУ В ОФИС ПОДБРОСИЛИ НАРКОТИКИ.
ПРЕСТУПНИКИ МОГУТ ПОЙТИ НА ФИЗИЧЕСКОЕ УСТРАНЕНИЕ ОТЦА ИЛИ КОГО-ТО ИЗ ЧЛЕНОВ НАШЕЙ СЕМЬИ.
ЕСЛИ МОЖЕТЕ СООБЩИТЕ ЭТУ ИНФОРМАЦИЮ ТЕМ ВАШИМ ЗНАКОМЫМ (ВОЗМОЖНО ЖУРНАЛИСТАМ) , КОТОРЫЕ МОГЛИ БЫ СВЯЗАТЬСЯ СО МНОЙ И СООБЩИТЬ О ДАННОЙ ИСТОРИИ ШИРОКОЙ ПУБЛИКЕ.
СПАСИБО ЗА ПОДДЕРЖУ
X
----------
DEAR FRIENDS!
I AND MY FAMILY HAVE BEEN ATTACKED BY A GANG OF CRIMINALS FROM ENGELS, SARATOV REGION.
CRIMINALS ARE TRYING TO TAKE OVER MY FATHER’S (NIKOLAY MOTSNYI) BUSINESS WITH THE USE OF CORRUPTED LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIALS.
FIRST THEY PLANTED A GUN IN MY FATHER’S BUSINESS CAR ON 17 MAY 2008 AND HE WAS CHARGED WITH ILLEGAL POSSESSION OF FIREARMS.
CRIMINALS ORGANIZED A NEW ATTACK AND PLANTED DRUGS INTO THE OFFICE OF HIS COMPANY IN ENGELS, SARATOV REGION ON 18 JUNE (JUST 2 DAYS AFTER HE WAS CLEARED OFF THE PREVIOUS CHARGES).
MY MOTHER RECEIVED A PHONE CALL WITH A THREAT ON 20 MAY 2008.
THIS CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IS FULLY SUPPORTED BY SOME CORRUPTED MEMBERS OF LOCAL POLICE AND SOME OFFICIALS FROM ENGELS CITY ADMINISTRATION.
CRIMINALS ARE READY TO GO FURTHER AND MURDER MY FATHER OR ANYONE FROM OUR FAMILY.
IF YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO COULD CONTACT ME FOR MORE DETAILS AND TELL THIS STORY TO THE WIDER PUBLIC PLEASE FORWARD THIS MESSAGE TO HIM.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT
X
26.6.08
teaching and learning
I have loads of experience in teaching English as a foreign language. In such a way I supported myself through various parts of university, albeit in a minimal subsistence way. I taught English to spoiled Russians in Moscow mansions, French business men and a mix of 20 something students in Cambridge. I always knew I wasn't meant to be an English teacher, I fell into the profession completely by accident…..but it was a means to an end and I got away with it well enough for long enough that people were willing to overlook my lack of certificates and qualifications.
But then one day I hit a block and realised that I couldnt do it anymore, so I started selling books to fund the rest of my doctorate. Even as that job has now come to and end, I think I made the right choice at the time.
In my years of teaching though, I did become proficient in the various theories and trends circulating in that industry. I learned to keep my TTT (teacher talk time) to a minimum, and to do loads of pair work. I learned what a supervisor wanted to see when they opened the door to my classroom: loads of students sitting in pairs, looking happy and speaking the target language. After a few years I became confident enough to walk into classrooms smiling and knowing what I had to do. Funnily though, none of this prepared me to be on the other side of the desk, in the students place.
So yesterday, as I sat down in my first class at the Spanish embassy I was surprised to find that I felt slightly nervous.
The thing is, I had decided about a month ago that the time had come to sort out the muddle of languages in my brain. I speak (sort of) 6 languages. I have studied over 10. I have attended school in 5. I am often a bit lost. The right words don't always come out at the right time, I know what I mean, but not everyone else does. So I decided to do something about it. I trotted around embassies, checked out the prices, and found myself in an advanced Spanish class at the Cervantes institute. Our class is small, there are only 5 of us, plus the teacher, which my former TEFL self tells me is ideal. Interestingly, not one student is English: the other 4 are south African, Portuguese, polish and Australian. English people are famously disinclined to learn languages other than there own, which appears to be the explanation. The teacher seems good. I found myself analysing the exercises as we went along, knowing well which skill every activity was meant to hone. I think it will be an interesting 12 weeks…
But then one day I hit a block and realised that I couldnt do it anymore, so I started selling books to fund the rest of my doctorate. Even as that job has now come to and end, I think I made the right choice at the time.
In my years of teaching though, I did become proficient in the various theories and trends circulating in that industry. I learned to keep my TTT (teacher talk time) to a minimum, and to do loads of pair work. I learned what a supervisor wanted to see when they opened the door to my classroom: loads of students sitting in pairs, looking happy and speaking the target language. After a few years I became confident enough to walk into classrooms smiling and knowing what I had to do. Funnily though, none of this prepared me to be on the other side of the desk, in the students place.
So yesterday, as I sat down in my first class at the Spanish embassy I was surprised to find that I felt slightly nervous.
The thing is, I had decided about a month ago that the time had come to sort out the muddle of languages in my brain. I speak (sort of) 6 languages. I have studied over 10. I have attended school in 5. I am often a bit lost. The right words don't always come out at the right time, I know what I mean, but not everyone else does. So I decided to do something about it. I trotted around embassies, checked out the prices, and found myself in an advanced Spanish class at the Cervantes institute. Our class is small, there are only 5 of us, plus the teacher, which my former TEFL self tells me is ideal. Interestingly, not one student is English: the other 4 are south African, Portuguese, polish and Australian. English people are famously disinclined to learn languages other than there own, which appears to be the explanation. The teacher seems good. I found myself analysing the exercises as we went along, knowing well which skill every activity was meant to hone. I think it will be an interesting 12 weeks…
24.6.08
work
my new job is boring beyond all belief.
i have had many ridiculous jobs in the past, i have given out flyers outside the paris metro. i have taught english to spoiled brats in moscow mansions. i have had to take overly intoxicated canadian students to hospital to have their stomachs pumped, and i have sold a lot of books. but i have never sat a desk and tried to imagine ways to look busy. my collegues dont seem to mind this. they spend hours chatting, drinking coffee and reading the sports news on the internet. but this utter lack of productivity drives me mad, especially as we are not allowed to do anything productive if it is not company based. so although i have loads of time, i cant get out my thesis and start working on it, that would be "of task," but i can sit for 2 hours and discuss the football, and that is alright. in fact, it is encouraged, as it apparently shows i am a team player!!! i spend hours staring at the clocks (all of which are now showing the right time around the world, as i went around changing them my first week). i read the guardian, the economist, pagina 12, grandma internacional and the bbc several times a day. if you have a blog, i have read it i assure you! you might wonder about my job. the thing is, i do it, easily. but it doesnt take 8.5 hours a day. with concentration and organisation, i can do everything in 4, condeming myself to another 4.5 hours of nothingness. my collegues tell me i work too hard, but i prefer hard work to boredom. surely there has to be some way to improve this situation? helllllllllpppppppp.......
i have had many ridiculous jobs in the past, i have given out flyers outside the paris metro. i have taught english to spoiled brats in moscow mansions. i have had to take overly intoxicated canadian students to hospital to have their stomachs pumped, and i have sold a lot of books. but i have never sat a desk and tried to imagine ways to look busy. my collegues dont seem to mind this. they spend hours chatting, drinking coffee and reading the sports news on the internet. but this utter lack of productivity drives me mad, especially as we are not allowed to do anything productive if it is not company based. so although i have loads of time, i cant get out my thesis and start working on it, that would be "of task," but i can sit for 2 hours and discuss the football, and that is alright. in fact, it is encouraged, as it apparently shows i am a team player!!! i spend hours staring at the clocks (all of which are now showing the right time around the world, as i went around changing them my first week). i read the guardian, the economist, pagina 12, grandma internacional and the bbc several times a day. if you have a blog, i have read it i assure you! you might wonder about my job. the thing is, i do it, easily. but it doesnt take 8.5 hours a day. with concentration and organisation, i can do everything in 4, condeming myself to another 4.5 hours of nothingness. my collegues tell me i work too hard, but i prefer hard work to boredom. surely there has to be some way to improve this situation? helllllllllpppppppp.......
18.6.08
poland
Poland it had been exactly a decade since I last stuck my feet in Poland, and nearly two decades had passed since my first fleeting visit to Warsaw. Needless to say, some things have changed. Warsaw today is much more than I expected it to be, and an era apart from the drab grey city I remembered from earlier encounters. The architecture has changed rapidly, especially in the business-oriented parts of the centre. There are sparkling new glass and steel structures that look impressive. Our own office is in one of these buildings, and has a large balcony overlooking the entire centre. Yet this new design is completely uneven, there are big new glass buildings next to old socialist ones, next to hand built kebab shops. The new centre is hectic and lacks planning, but I am assured it is improving every year. The old core has taken on the aura of central European kitch, but surely part of this is inevitable in an "old town" that was entirely rebuild in the 1950s, based on 19th century paintings of how it had supposedly looked prior to the Nazi occupation. Like parts of Cracow and vaci utca in Budapest (and all of Prague for that matter) the kitch does not entirely detract from the charm. The old square is cute with nice cafes to sit and have a drink in. and we do. The polish staff in our office there prove to be incredibly friendly and helpful. they nearly even kill us with their hospitality. after a huge breakfast at the hotel, and a brief meeting in the office, we headed for "the best sushi restaurant in Poland." It is indeed amazing how sushi has taken over the cities of eastern europe. it is a ubiqitous as mcdonalds now in moscow, and the trend has clear spread to poland too. the sushi was indeed good, and i enjoyed myself immensely. This culinary fun was followed by a city tour given to us by one of the guys in the office there, and included a stop by the best ponci (Spelling? like a buluchka, but a polish varient) bakery in warsaw, and then, with my stomach still full, a trip to the best mexican restaurant in poland for an early dinner. by the time my burrito arrived though, i barely had the energy to take a bite, as much as i love mexican food, even in its polish transcultured appearence!
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