protesting (2)

In fact one of the strongest and most public ongoing campaigns in Moscow has been against the (elite) privilege of being able to beat the always terrible traffic, avoid speed limits and generally drive like shit - by having special removable, flashing blue lights on your car roof (migalki). Made worse by the fact that many more than the allocated number are being used, because such lights can of course be bought illegally.

The Blue Bucket movement has seen people put blue buckets on their cars, in ridiculous mimicry of the lights, and then when that was banned, putting them on their heads. The protests have been vocal enough to bring on what appeared to be a recent police clampdown - with migalki drivers being stopped and checked. But as usual here, the response has been mixed; some say it is just for show, others that it is just legal migalki owners trying to stop illegal abuse 'watering down' their privilege. Nobody ever really thinks anything is going to change, even when they do go out on the streets in frustration and anger (and with humour).

more beautiful people

Found myself at a cocktail reception yesterday evening. Organised by Christies, the event was presumably aimed at promoting the art auctioneers to Russian art collectors again - a sign that the financial crisis is seen as on its way out here. Slightly miscellaneous artworks on the walls by Andy Warhol, Cindy Sherman, Claude Monet, Ilya Repin and Lucien Freud among others; but mainly I was staring at all the beautiful people (and the scrum of photographers).

My problem being that I never recognise celebrities on my own home-ground, let alone Russian ones. So no idea who these women are, just love/want their poise and style.

Meanwhile I showed my lack of class by wearing jeans, getting VERY over-excited at the Chanel No.5 goodie bag and going on to Moo Moo* for dinner.


* Moo Moo/ му му is one of two main chains of buffet-type 'cheap-n-cheerful' Russian food restuarants, decorated in a 'Russian village'/ cow motif style. The other is 'Mongolian style', called Elki Palki/ёлки палки.

So now I know I live somewhere trendy

My neighbourhood is very like bits of East London - rundown with several derelict factories  but also with pockets of cultural activity (Winzavod, ArtPlay) and many bright young things in evidence at weekends. But now I know the area has really arrived. Instead of the usual drunks on the stairs, there has been a many-personed film crew occupying several floors for the whole day. With the whole works, including external floodlights.

And they have kindly given us extra graffiti, together with a considerable amount of shouting, music and chasing about.

Weird missing things

I feel like I am turning into this strange British stereotype person - I have started missing typical english things that I hardly ever eat at home. This includes fish and chips and mugs of tea. Just yesterday I bought a box of cornflakes - cornflakes - which I don't think I have had for about 15 years! So I need to know, is this a common experience? Because it feels a bit uncomfortable, whatever next? Marmite?

In the meantime I have been exploring more food shops (don't know if these two facts are connected). There really does seem to be a huge gap here between ordinary supermarkets and the extremely expensive, security-guarded posh ones. Another craving which better matches my London eating habits is for good French and Spanish cheeses - something in the milk product area, but with a bit of flavour. I may have to smuggle some back next time I am in London, because I treated myself to a tiny sliver of Manchego today and it cost over seven of your English pounds.

Eating it very, very slowly.

Yet more traffic stuff

Last Tuesday was No Car Day in Moscow, as it was in other parts of Europe. You can see the impact from the photograph.

I saw my first 'cavalcade' of the elite - have heard grumbles from many of my colleagues about the fact that the boss class close down roads when they need to get about, rather than deal with traffic problems. The police escort cars had their sirens on, working across a series of high and low notes. Which I can't take seriously because they sound just like the Clangers; the low notes, to be honest, how a Clanger would sound if it was farting.

Going, going

What a fab flight for someone who loves flying, all the way up the western edge of Europe following the coastline and then over the top of the world - a curving blue and cloud horizon - and only finally southwards after St. Petersburg, creeping up on Moscow from behind.

 

And (unexpectedly) lounging in an almost empty business class, absent-mindedly listening in to the international business elite – 2 groups of 2 young men, as sleek and elegant as seals, impossible to pin down by nationality, just well-ironed and confident in their privilege. Also a shabby elderly Englishman who conformed to stereotype by turning out to be a diplomat (at least, that is the passport queue he joined at Domedevedeo airport).