Embassy, Jackson

"Consular information. Michael Jackson". Near the Embassy of the United States in Moscow.


The Russian version of the name “Michael” is pronounced “Mykhayl”, spelled “Михаил”. The short version, the one you may use in a family, with a friend or a kid is “Misha” (“Миша” in Cyrillic). The same word is used for bears – nice ones, like in fairy tales. That is why there are a lot of teddy bears here. For fans Michael might be Misha.


“Misha” in Russian.


Orthodox icons and black ribbons on the photos and frames.



One second later two boys will join their mother, a woman of a serious size, to ask her who is Michael Jackson. She will reply that he is a singer, an American one. Their father, a rather thin and grey-ish looking man, will translate the phrase “Michael, we love you” into Russian, and the family will appreciate that he can read English.


Typical. Making a picture sort of “I was there”, even trying to make a smile.



The pile with printed songs texts. Written by hand: “Take, sing”.


BAD.






Michael Jackson`s CD was the first one I actually saw in my life. It was 1994, still at school, and one of my classmates brought a real compact disk – to show us. His father was a professor of English and German in Vladimir University (now he is the rector there), so if not often but sometimes he could go abroad, which was such a privilege. I didn`t quite understand why people might need compact disks, cassettes were okay. I never saw leaflets inside the CD pack before, and here was something really chic. I never heard music like that and I`ve never even dreamt about going abroad myself, though I was lucky enough to spend one summer month in a “pioneer camp” in Czechoslovakia several years earlier. In fact, that disk, of Michael Jackson, was among the first “foreign things” opening the world for me, and hope that doesn`t sound too pompous.

Typically this building is supposed not to be pictured, and the guard is quite strict about that. Russian police (“militsyya”) outside and serious security guard indoors.


Inside, I was several times there. In 2004 when I got my first US visa. In 2005 when I was rejected because even being totally law-abiding failed to show proper ties (ties!) with Russia. Then I was a couple of times there because of job, but I definitely have a strange feeling about the whole experience: being too Russian in some cases and too foreign in others.

More cultural clues:
The word “bear” is pronounced “Medved`” - with soft “d” in the end, spelled “Медведь” in Russian, and yes, almost the same as the family name of the present Russian President (Medvedev). For some reason a bear in Russian culture and folklore was always supposed to be called “Michael” – Misha or Mykhaylo. The zoological name is “Medved`”, but to describe a small or a nice bear you will say “Mishka”, which is the same as the male name “Misha” with a diminishing suffix “k”. That is back to why Michael and bears.

That`s all for today.

Filling the gap about Gap

Way to Gap



Gap is quite a small town – less than 40 thousand residents. Surrounded by mountains and four hours away from Nice and the seaside.


Respecting such a size and doubting that many people will visit it specially, will write a separate post about it. By the way it, Gap, might become the capital of Winter Olympics in 2018.

Gap is a French town


Situated in the department of Hautes Alpes (the region is Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur).


With real snowy Alpes on the background


Having bicycles for free – special offer from local municipal tourist office, in exchange of the passport copy. Several hours - just enough to explore the town and to “do” some sport (my previous sport-like event happened in winter and was devoted to drin… skating and pretending to box).


About the town: small and civilized (I am from Moscow, huge and not, so just admiring).


Parking “moto”, parking “velo”. Real bikes and tiny ones.



A bit of poetry. “Conduire et reussir” – the closest English equivalent might be “Drive and thrive”.


Being adventurous though always trying to decrease the number of, hmm, “adventures”, I usually book hotels based on the price + location principle. So if there is a late concert, there also should be a quick and nice way back. It seldom works perfectly, but Gap is so tiny, that my hotel was like 500 moderate steps from the concerts hall, which was of course good.


Le Cube concert hall. Built as a cube like a couple of years ago, as I was told, so now Gap cultural life is boiling up. Before that fans were going to Marseille, again, as I was told. Saluting Julien Clerc and Liane Foly this season.


After the show, heading to Marseille the next day. A bit of spying from my side.


Gapping more









Picturesque oldies






So that was Gap.


Might be continued, should be about Marseille.

Nice Paris etc

Hello! Though I promised the other day to write about my recent French trip, but right now I doubt that these will be highly demanded texts. Everybody got the idea that things were great and occasionally fantastic. Already described it in real for several friends and now, just respecting timing, yours and mine… Maybe synopsis kind of thing might do. And as usual, photos are seriously resized, but clickable.

Flight Moscow – Budapest – Paris. The saving money deal. Also the “saving time” as it turned out. Managed to jump to an earlier plane to Paris, 15 minutes spent in Budapest. Typical Malev treat (the Hungarian airlines) – the “goulyash” - meaty and saucy stuff, hot and always perfect timing. On the photo: enjoy the little bear and difficult Hungarian language.



Then, Paris in early dusk – much more welcoming than a deep night as it was planned before the speedy connection in Budapest.

The RER train and underground to my hotel, deep down in the 20th Paris district. Natural charm and translating skills changing my room. To start with, I got the storeroom type of lodging with window facing the wall, but being talkative (helpful) on reception with translating Russian language comments of former clients on the website – found out lots of useful info, for example that someone had a lovely balcony. That provoked my high interest which I obviously expressed somehow clearly, and as a result I got a really lovely light room facing an old street, quite picturesque. And with a balcony!

Was living close to Belleville, where Edith Piaf was born. Once I read a book, a well-written memoire of Piaf`s step-sister, and the book was full of Paris addresses, where they lived or worked. Perhaps I have the nature of a collector, but I wrote down everything into my notebook. And just imagine how it was challenging to find the information now – I do use paper notebooks as well, keeping it in my bag and everywhere. There are no quick search buttons in real notebooks. Anyway, the plan was to visit those places. And here I saw the place where she was born. That happened straight on the street, right on the steps of a modest building in an unpretentious district, quite Asian now. The book was right, and there was a memorial board on the house saying that the great singer was born here. Though I was just walking towards the city center and just passed by, but it was a thrilling moment there. On the photo: the actual steps are behind the scooter chap (72, rue de Bellevile). Extraordinary.



Another proof that my location was perfect is the following: the only advertising pillar with “My brilliant divorce” was right behind the corner and I saw it quite often during my 2 days and nights in Paris. What is that? Thinking about your time I`d prefer not to answer now, but, briefly, that would be a play, a monologue even, in autumn, interpreted by Michele Laroque. The only other time I saw it the last day there – was close to Hotel de Ville in the center, but that doesn`t matter.



Elections. On the street.

Not elections, but similar look. In the metro.


Days of Roland Garros


Paris, day and night.







Understanding in advance about two nights in Paris I tried to entertain myself. The final choice was “The Lion King” musical and the “Tres chere Mathilde” play. Both visited – just “to be informed”. The first one was energetic, colorful and strangely moving. I am sensitive sometimes, so when huge mechanical animals with incorporated human bodies were crossing the public full of children, my eyes were wet, in a good way (it was almost funny, a grown up me, ready to cry watching musical). Maybe the melody was too lyrical at that moment. The costumes and decorations are very creative, just think about how to make an animal out of a human actor. Young actors are so pure in their desire to be on the stage, and some grown up characters are crazily funny. Elton John`s music – yes, good and well recognizable, and also a lot of text, one more challenge to my French. Musical is not my genre but I really enjoyed my time there. By the way it was totally sold out, perhaps because the season closing.


The second one – “Tres chere Mathilde” - was, I believe, great, but perhaps more in theory. Well, for me. The actors were doing accents and intonations (three personages, three options), so nothing sounded too natural (and I am sensitive for that too). The obvious success of the play was presenting Line Renaud, the now legendary actress, former singer and woman highly involved in social projects. Perhaps the dialogues were genial, but I`ll keep myself from estimating as thanks to my French I missed them partly. But I got an impression that the whole thing was lacking some “engine” if you know what I mean. The concept of the play left me indifferent, some argument about real estate rent turning into romance, but for sure I was enjoying Line Renaud on stage. The evening was quite sold, though not totally. Parisian couples of respected age in public mostly. Needless to say, the play and Line was warmly greeted (and treated), though I noticed a hint of just previously deserved respect (Line is 82, if not mistaken). In several days there was the final, hundredth, show. “Tres chere Mathilde” means “Very dear or very expensive Mathilde”.



Speaking about my Paris cultural life. Of course I was going to visit “Faisons un reve” play in another theatre, but there was no time for that. So I just walked to the Theatre (of Edouard VII, by the way known as “the most Parisian English king” – as he spent quite a lot of time in Paris, apparently enjoying it). Anyway I walked to its walls, enjoyed the view of the posters and people in the theatre café, and went home, to my lovely room, as it was already late.


The next morning there was a traditional “Francophile shopping”, which means visiting Fnac, Virgin media stores and small second-hand disks retailers to make several people in Moscow happy. That is like a tradition – once anybody (Russian) goes to France, there are several demands to buy some music or films. That obviously saves shipping money to compare with online orders, and also gives you more purpose while in France. Now, when going to France is less and less exotic – for reasonable and simple environment I belong to – this “shopping” is quite simple, because almost everybody can go himself. But several years before, when somebody was lucky to go to France, s/he was provided with all sort of lists and instructions. So you came to the music store, for example, with several sheets of printed names and album covers, with hand-written comments, notes and arrows, of sometimes unknown to you names, to find whatever was needed. Sometimes, intriguing a cashier, you could buy three similar disks of Bruel or Zazie, for example, plus a wide selection of everything from Johnny Hallyday to Christophe Willem, including several movies. Well, here is a lot of text just to say that “disks shopping” is always fun (and sometimes critical to my back pack, as there is a weight limit for budget flights and speed limit to my walking).



Night train to Nice. Nice price of 15 euros with 8 hours of trying to sleep in an armchair and with lights on. My favorite price anyway. There also was a night club on board, in a separate wagon, but believe me, I missed it. Here is what it was (click or not).



Nice morning. I have a soft spot for sunny places and I totally felt in love with Nice. For one day I was there, I saw posh streets and doubtful corners, but I loved it anyway.







With all my luck - thank you - there was a festival of Italian food. A real market, opened on the central square, full of lively sellers and crowds of public. Fragrant parmesan, tender mozzarella, smoky sausages and various collection of meat, samples of bread with olive oil, lavender biscuits... Nothing like a free lunch!


Also – the Museum of modern and contemporaneous art (free entrance to an air-conditioned space). The first hall was challenging to my brains and a bit rude in style and topics involved, but once you are in the game of what an artist was going to tell you – it is interesting. Pure creation, sometimes crazy, but almost always funny. The museum website



More nice Nice





Then there was a road to Gap, by bus. The road is tough. The river on your left, the mountain on your right, one car each way, and the road itself is bendy so you can`t see a lot in front of you. Plus, there was an unexpected heavy rain. From the bus shots.




Well, brief synopsis is not my thing. To be continued.