Saddam = Sakaashvili?

Another equation, but with logic many have already hinted at. My point here is mostly the idea of regime change---more and more, with the latest comments from Russian generals and Foreign Affairs Department head Sergei Lavrov, it seems Georgia's long-held paranoia has been confirmed: Russia does in fact seem to want Sakaashvili's head, and probably has all along, likely in just as crude a way as Saddam's was shock-deprived of oxygen.

What I sorta wonder is whether or not they actually think the guy's insane, and how much, if they do, that factors into their decisions to overthrow his admittedly slipshod government. And that in turn makes for a bigger, even juicier question: how much of what the Russian bureaucrats are spewing out right now do they actually believe themselves? And what, in each of these instances, are they after? Is Putin so hot-headed that he simply kept rolling with the punches (WTO---out, NATO partnership---out, all negotiating leverage besides that gained by oil and gas---out) after having dealt himself a severe wound by shooting himself in the foot with the escalation in Georgia? And how much is Medvedev turning into his double out of genuine respect for his unabashed railing against anyone who disses them and how much is he being put up to it all by the master puppeteer?

A hilarious example of language so exaggerated it's far beyond absurd, like calling Yeltsin a bit of a drinker:

(from a statement by Foreign Affairs minister Sergei Lavrov yesterday): The president and parliament [etc. etc.] today passed a resolution acknowledging the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia and regarding the signing of agreements expressing friendship, cooperation and mutual assistance.

Mutual assistance. As in, you let us piss off the Georgians from your territory every once in a while, and we'll try not to let any South Ossetian elementary schools fall into the wrong hands like we did with your Northern brethren, you can tout our military as having your back, and the money will come in steady flows. That is, as long as we still hate Georgia and it's in our interests to have you as our lap dogs.

Obama + Putin = ?

I just thought of something after reading this solid, well-informed, moderately insightful piece by David Remnick, editor of the New Yorker and former Moscow correspondent for the Washington Post (during the fall of the Soviet Union). In the last sentence, his genuinely thought-provoking conclusion hints at the shortcomings in the diplomatic techniques used by the West in dealing with Putin (and, to a lesser extent, both due to his weakened presence and his seemingly more flexible and reasonable approach toward governance, Medvedev), whose all-encompassing power is extremely dynamic, stretching across boundaries not dared to be traversed by his immediate predecessor at least. He's conniving, aggressive, and has a whole ton of firepower behind him, from military and social (a vast majority of Russians support him) to monetary and natural-resource---which makes him a spiny target for Western handling. That is, Europe can't piss him off too bad because they're so dependent on him for gas supplies, and the U.S. doesn't seem to want to face off with him for, well, lots of reasons, such as the fact that their military is already overstretched in Iraq and Afghanistan, they see the idiocy in the Georgian move to attack South Ossetia and therefore for all their support of the maniac Saakashvili they don't wanna take too strong a position against Russia, etc. etc.

Those were all tangents. What I really thought of immediately after finishing Remnick's rumination was how Obama, the possible successor to a largely ineffectual negotiator in Bush, might handle Putin; whether he would be the one negotiating with him at all or whether he might leave it mostly to his secretary of state, much as Bush has done with Rice; or whether he might not dispatch VP Biden, a veteran in foreign affairs, to deal with the temperamental de facto leader of the country.

More than anything else, I just thought about how Putin might react to having to negotiate with Obama. I can't recall reading anything about Putin's opinion of the U.S. presidential candidates or about race---but given his deep-seated Russianness, a characteristic stereotypically (and definitively present in large numbers of Russians) tied to prejudice against anyone who is anything but ethnic Russian or, in some cases, a member of another white people, I can just imagine him trying to hide his discomfort in meeting with Obama. I so want to see that.

Whether or not Obama would himself be any more effective a negotiator or diplomat with Putin, regardless (not that you can simply disregard the influence of Putin's likely unease with the man) of possible personal issues, is a completely different story of course. From what I've seen of Obama, especially lately, I can't say that I have a lot of confidence in his ability to take a hard line---not that that's necessarily the path I think needs to be taken with Putin all the time. But the Russian prime minister is so saavy and has so much experience in having his way with weak-stomached foreign leaders, that I would worry about Obama's ability to stand his ground with him.

There's even a fitting historical analogy that may predict the result of this potential unfair fight. I remember reading about how JFK met with Khrushchev when he first became president and got his ass handed to him by the Soviet head of state. He got completely out-played diplomatically, bullied around by Stalin's experienced successor. There have been worthy comparisons made between JFK and Obama---both young, highly intelligent, charismatic politicians who quickly rose through the political ranks---but I wonder if the latter too might run straight into a brick wall in attempting to negotiate with Russia's newest shrewd, powerful, autocratic leader.

Forever War

I read this article in the latest NYT magazine and found it really compelling. I'd have to think more about the running motif to feel like I understand its exact place or impact in the piece, but I think Filkins does a really good job of setting up the deadness he feels when gets back . . . and communicates the sense of the title of the book this piece is a part of, "The Forever War."

???

To the like two people who may or may not still read this: is this article interesting to you?

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/14/world/europe/14moscow.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

And if so, can you please tell me why?

I realize that the whole "journal" rubric in the Times is, naturally, meant for an audience unfamiliar with the place in question, but come on . . . . Anne Barnard or one of the many bazillion smart people who would love to write something for NYT can't come with something slightly more compelling going on in Moscow than street cafes? Sure, they're a "big deal" here in summer, and that might be interesting---but the article doesn't actually deal with them very much, it just makes a few semi-sociological and economic points while talking to a few utterly unremarkable people. I suppose for those who know little to nothing about the country or city, these slight insights are interesting . . . . or are they?? ANYone who reads this, if you glance at the piece above, please let me know.

Sorry for the rather unclassy journalist-bashing. It's probably just jealousy, I realize. But hey---I and most everyone else at the Moscow Times could probably write a better piece than that. What makes Ms. Barnard so special, hmmmmmm???

Writing again

Hi there, possessors of RSS feeds!!! I know you're the only ones who could possibly be reading this, so I thought I would direct this to you, more than to anyone else.

It's amazing how much inertia seems to be involved in writing. I finally had a full-length assignment due at work this week, after a good couple months of writing little blurby descriptions of restaurants, and POOF suddenly I have the itch. I have some confidence that it will whither away soon enough, though, this itch, as it so often does, so I figured I would indulge it while it lasts.

I don't really have anything in particular to talk about. Just wrote a piece about a bunch of (somewhat) cool stores in Moscow, the usual Moscow Guide fare. It was fun to write, sometimes, but mostly just to try to make the writing itself interesting---writing about stores is . . . not always that fun. I don't even know why I proposed the story in the first place, except that I thought it was an actually useful thing for ex-pats in the city---that is, stores where you can get apartment stuff that isn't run-of-the-mill, isn't from Ikea, will last, and is central enough not to alienate all the timid businessmen who don't know there's more city outside the Garden Ring. But then it turned into this piece on little knick-knack shops where you can get things that could be compared to the "flare" shit Jennifer Aniston had to wear in Office Space, stuff that I don't actually think is all that cool but that makes for pretty good pictures which often seems to be the priority here at the Guide . . . which I guess I understand but don't always appreciate. Being a writer for the magazine, not a photographer. Ssssooooooooo anyway I also have some freelance assignments!!! Which is far more exciting news for me. I'm writing about this Soviet video game (who knew they had THOSE?!?) called Morskoi Boi, which is not the most interesting game in the world but the history surrounding it and the others is pretty cool . . . and, like so many Soviet projects, it was real perty. Constructivist art, almost Japanese-like sharp lines and solid blocks of color. Way cool. And then another one, a travel story on Kaliningrad, this very odd part of Russia, an exclave, that the Commies snagged from Germany when settling up after WWII. Lucky them. Actually it was pretty lucky, because the place is of strategic importance being a port on a sea that isn't frozen year-round and being next to those massive giants of the European continent Lithuania and Poland. I wanted to head over to Lithuania to check it out while I was there, but it didn't quite work out . . .

In other news, it's hot as mmmmmmmm a boiler room in Moscow. A wet heat, too, the kind in which you're always sticky. I know I shouldn't complain considering so many of my friends have been/are in places billion times hotter, but I figured I would mention it. Makes staying at work late easier at least---they have the magical AIR conditioning here at least!!!

Been cooking a lot lately, too. That's fun, except that I so often get down on myself for not coming up with more recipes, especially tasty ones . . . I realize that I have to cook more and use more recipes that ARE tasty and read more etc. etc. etc. to get better but sttiiiiiiiiill . . . sorry but now I got interrupted in writing this so I lost my flow so I'll stop now. Perhaps more another time. Stratosphere.

Home?

I took a walk yesterday around one of those neighborhoods in Moscow
that makes you forget it's mostly a city of giant boulevards and jam-packed highways. It's near this giant church that everyone here thinks is really cheesy because it was made pretty recently, replacing a demolished, old, beautiful relic of Russian Orthodoxy that Stalin decided was a little too opium-like. But anyway, the neighborhood was quiet---legitimately, actually quiet---even though surrounded by one of Moscow's main thoroughfares (if you can call a ring-road a thoroughfare) and full of buildings that when I passed I thought, "Yes---if I could live there, maybe Moscow would be the place for me . . ."

Not that it ever really would be I think. But I've been telling various people lately that Russia has started to seem normal to me. I told one friend not comfortable, but familiar, and I think that's right---and when I think about the States, I get a little nervous, like it's a place that I would have to adapt to. I guess I've never been abroad as long as I have been now, so maybe this happens to everyone---maybe this is what all that "reverse culture shock" talk was about. Another friend (I don't know why I'm not using names, but I'm not and I'm not gonna, so there) was telling me the other day that he thinks he's traveled so much that new places don't shock him the way they used to---but I wonder what going back to the States will be like for him. Maybe normal. But probably not.

What kinds of things have become normal? A short list: sushi in non-Japanese restaurants, nine out of ten women wearing heels or knee-high boots (perhaps a statistical exaggeration), dust/dirt everywhere, metro cars that come every two minutes (at most during rush hour), "rye" bread that's not actually rye bread, really bad out-of-season produce, street food, beer restaurants, seeing people I know on the streets (that doesn't really happen in New York, right?), talking about the weather constantly

I could keep going. But I'll leave it at that for now. Anyway I suppose the "sut'" (essence, approximately) of this post is that familiarity seems to have pretty strong influence on people. I remember someone (brother?) telling me about a statistic that cites proximity as having an incredibly big role in ich people end up dating each other. Proximity! So am I falling in love with Moscow? I don't know. Am I beginning to feel more relaxed (okay, so maybe I could say "comfortable")? I think so. But is that just because I've spent nine months here now? Maybe this is all really obvious to everyone, but I still keep turning it over in my mind.

That said, I think I should probably move, after summer at least. Anyone have suggestions where??

The Sun = A Narcotic

I realize that I haven’t written on this in forever. Yet again.

Whatever—that’s what I’ve decided to think about this blog. I had originally planned it as something I would take seriously—write drafts of posts, think about them a long time in advance, have a specific topic that I would address and come at it only after extended thought. F*#% that. I do that all day. Here, for now at least, I’m just gonna spew.

So consider yourself forewarned, dear readers . . .

Right at this moment I want to spew about how damn amazing the weather has been lately in Moscow. I realize that I've written about this before. I'm okay with that. Anyway, for those of you who don’t know, winter is one big cloud fest here in Russia’s capital. Pollution, so I’ve been told, holds the clouds in, and you end up with something like one decently sunny day every two weeks. And yet as of last Friday, I’ve looked up to see a milky gray-white exactly once, in the early morning one day.

It’s incredible! I told my boss I thought the apocalypse was approaching, and instead of the confirmation I expected, he just said, “This is what spring is like here. You haven’t been here a whole year’s cycle, so you don’t know—but it really is.” I was shocked. In a really good way.

It’s made me think about how much the weather affects my mood, which I know is old news—you know, Seasonal Affective Disorder and all that, which seems less to me like a disorder and more like basic logic about pretty much everyone’s personality—but still a rather remarkable phenomenon. The sheer number of things that affect how one feels and how much energy one has and what one wants to do on any given day—well, it’s mind-boggling to think about. And here I am thinking that the weather is IT. This week it has been, but I’m guessing if the sun sticks around long enough, I’ll soon pass on to thinking I have more energy one day because I ate more protein or got more sleep or went for a run or whatever.

Another thing about Moscow for those of you who may read this just for those little tid-bits: spring and summer mean people are OUT. It’s awesome. For instance—and I could be totally wrong about this, but I don’t think I am—I came home on the metro this evening at a somewhat typical time for me—9 p.m. (don’t worry, I don’t get to work until 11). Often, I have to stuff onto a car despite the fact that “rush” hour (which is kind of perpetual on certain metro lines here, including, often, my purple line heading east outside the circle line) has ended a couple hours before. Tonight—I almost got a seat. I think people were out, walking around, chilling in the city streets. I know I was the night before. And it’ll only get warmer and lighter and, I hope, less crowded in the metro from here . . . . . .

There are lots of interesting reasons for that, by the way. Such as the fact that most young people here still live at home, so spring and summer means the freedom to be on the street, with friends (and partners) and without parents. But also, in some way, it seems like the seasons are so extreme here in Moscow (and much of Russia) that you end up with this highly marked, mostly unconscious feast-and-famine mentality about life, such that in winter, everyone sits at home and mopes and sleeps a lot—and in summer, everyone lives it up like crazy. I guess that’s how it is in plenty of places, but here it seems to me more of a thing. Maybe it’s just because I’ve come from Claremont, where winter means 60 during the day instead of 80 and, sometimes, a few less sunny days—but I don’t think so, at least not completely.

What’s so cool to me is that it’s still literally feast and famine in some ways. Obviously, you can get anything you want food-wise year-round here these days, but in summer, the selection is absurdly better. The markets are packed with vendors and produce, and stuff is orgasmically cheap. And tasty. I can’t waaaaaiiiit . . . . .