As is becoming more and more a lifestyle choice, rather than an occasional occurrence, I have left this year end missive for far too long and must now bite the bullet. Having just perused last year�s round robin for inspiration (and marvelled not only at how much transpired but at how much my own sense of time and space has become distorted � it seems like it was all an age ago) it appears I have set myself a rather daunting task � so I�ll go bosh*. You are forewarned � this will be LONG!!
January, traditionally set aside for solo indulgence, found me in London again, catching up with old friends, seeking inspiration at the National Gallery, V&A and Wallace Collection and doing some rather unspectacular shopping. I returned to Moscow to take up matrioshka painting (of all things!!), and though approached with initial scepticism, I surprised myself by going at it with such avidity that, once untethered, my enthusiasm could not be reined in. The mandatory scarved-matron-balalaika-toting-youth-plaited-maiden nesting doll phase of the course behind me, I took inspiration from cultural life to produce a series of harlequins and other clowns and fairy tale characters. My winter pastime secured, I finally settled on likenesses of the voluptuous maidens of Alphons Mucha�s art nouveau posters to adorn wooden vodka and champagne bottle sheaths.
We had a real winter, with all it entailed - mounds of snow, extremely cold spells succeeding slushy weather (I challenge anyone in Moscow to return home with a clean car after driving out on any such day), but also magnificently bright, clear, crisp and sunny days. I hosted a small fashion show of clothing by 2 young Moscow knitwear designers late in February, and turned impromptu model when one was incapacitated by an untimely leg injury.
By March, a project that I had relegated to the backburner, pending a reduction in ardour for painting, i.e., researching the history of Africans and people of African descent in Russia, of whom Pushkin is the most celebrated, had regathered some momentum. It has been a fascinating journey so far, bringing me into contact with many interesting and multi-faceted people. I have even been on the very popular (Oprah style) talk-show of one of my subjects. It was good fun. Her mother, a historian and professor, is the daughter of African American and Polish American parents who came to the Soviet Union in the early 1930's. Her father was a Zanzibari revolutionary who, at the time of his premature death in the mid- 60's, was Prime Minister of Tanzania. I have gathered a plethora of information and continue to meet interesting people, but have yet to start writing in earnest.
Perhaps this is an appropriate juncture at which to digress briefly on the issue of racism in Russia. I often hear and read about brutal attacks on obvious foreigners in Moscow, but I myself have not so much as felt a threat yet. I have spoken to people on public transport, at the shops and on the street, and cannot believe that, considering the combined 4+ years I have spent in Russia, that the likelihood of nothing happening can be a simple coincidence. Just this week, at a conference at which I also spoke, a Russian Africanist put forward a novel and unusual theory, perhaps somewhat abstruse for the battered foreign victim on the street, but one that, given my personal experience, I am not willing to discredit. Put in a nutshell, her hypothesis is that what may actually be a kind of curiosity shown by Russian youth for Africans is met by "instinctive" (all of those news reports cannot be wrong?!) fear and rejection which results in a violent reaction on the part of the youth, i.e., �I just wanted to ask you where you�re from and you ignore me and move off as if I�m a raving lunatic..� Naivete on her/my part? Call me and let�s talk. Having said all that, I must add that the "assaults" by the media have not left me totally cold.
In April, Cord and I spent a lovely weekend at the Europa Hotel in St Petersburg, a city where I spent some very happy, intense times. It was my first visit since returning to Russia; Cord was there for the Schroeder-Putin-Chirac summit (Chirac's impromptu appearance was not exactly viewed with pleasure) and I joined him for 2 days. Though cloaked in scaffolding in preparation for the city�s 300th anniversary celebration at the end of May, it was still my Petersburg, and we had a delightful stroll along Nevsky Prospect, past the Winter Palace, over to the Petrograd Side, through the Fortress, over the Liteiny Bridge, by the Marble Palace, Field of Mars and back to Nevsky Prospect via the Church on Spilled Blood. There was just time to meet my former Institute of Cytology lab-mate before we headed back to Moscow by late afternoon train. Later on in April, I was in Berlin for the second running of a workshop that I designed for foreign service children and youth for the continuing education department of the ministry called SMOOTH* (self-confidence, motivation, organization, openness, tolerance and home) Moves. Part One is for those expatriating and deals with various aspects of preparation and intercultural communication; Part Two is for repatriating kids and deals with re-entry shock and readjusting to a "home" that may not be or really isn't. Unfortunately, the workshop schedule left me little leisure time, but I was able to get a number of friends together for some �Soviet� food at the Tajik Tea Room in Berlin's historic centre. While I was away, there was a tragedy at the Embassy, when a employee took his own life while undergoing psychiatric treatment in Germany. In the weeks that followed, I spent a lot of time with his widow, a woman of Ethiopian extraction.
Moscow is cultural paradise. During the winter and spring, we dawdled in museums and attended many excellent concerts and theatre performances; ticket prices being what they are, one can indulge oneself to the verge of over-consumption, if such a thing exists. The stand alone performance of the year for me was undisputedly that of the baritone Khvorostovsky, and thanks to a friend's husband, we got front row seats. I was absolutely mesmerized and unfortunately captured on national television virtually drooling! Cord, of course, ridiculed me, but Khorostovsky has such an alluring aura, charisma, presence � well, and of course his voice....
Fast forwarding ahead��.
Russian and former Soviet fashion came to Moscow in May for the finals of the Russky (Russian) Silhouette design competition. As with any of these things, there were wearable and less wearable creations. Inspired and inspiring rubbed shoulders with dumpy and appalling. Moscow had its first Vienna Ball in June, a grand affair to which we received an invitation. The commodious venue was bedecked with Svarovski crystals and the guests were sent home with some glistening at their wrists.
Farewells for colleagues leaving Moscow for foreign climes or the mostly unfamiliar suburbs of Berlin followed mid month and then at month�s end, I attended a lavish 21st birthday party over a long weekend in Baku (Azerbaijan). There, I attracted much attention from adult and child alike and what started off as quaint and complimentary soon took on molestation-like proportions. I enjoyed the wonderfully warm hospitality of my hosts, friends from our New York period, who put me up in the presidential guest house (�Vitamin C�*). Some of Russia and Azerbaijan�s most popular musical artistes were flown in for private performances and indulgent excess made it a night to remember. Delicious food with lots of fresh herbs and vegetables, caviar and sinfully calorific sweets were the order of the day throughout. I strolled the Caspian-front promenade, explored the walled old town, with Shirvinshah�s Palace, the Caravan Sara and Maiden�s Tower, all in weathered limestone, and though not intending to, was talked into purchasing two carpets, one now under foot. I found the oriental architectural style charming, combining low-storied stone houses with wooden balconies. Late 19th century European architecture nestled beside monumental the Soviet style which was also evident in a number of state edifices, though they all bore signs of their local provenance.
There seems to be some confusion over whether the name Baku derives from the autochthonous words for fire or wind. My vote is definitely for wind � a gustier breeze I have never seen. A geologist or meteorologist could explain in better, but it apparently relates to the city�s location between the mountains and the Caspian sea. Nevertheless, the weather there was a splendid digression from the unseasonably cool and rainy weather we'd been putting up with in Moscow.
The on again, off again SARS epidemic finally cancelled our plans to celebrate my dad�s birthday in Toronto, but Jared (14) was nonetheless shipped off on his own during the last week of June, for 5 weeks. There, he volunteered at a tennis camp and seems to have gained valuable life experience � including that of getting his hair braided (I only ever saw the pictures, thank goodness for small mercies!). We gained the knowledge that our son is capable of untold wonders, sadly, however, apparently only outside the home environment!
Kyra and I spent July in Ghana, which, due to my unrealistic expectations, turned out to be to more stress than rest. My modest building project outgrew its initial proportions, with the result that more time was spent chasing up my architect than unwinding with my parents and other family, but my parents put a very brave face on it. I had another of those incredible experiences- I was accosted by someone who had last seen me 16 years ago and named me, the date of our last meeting (one or two brief encounters at Customs and Excise) and what he had cleared. I realise I must cease to be amazed by such things when in Ghana.
While Kyra and I returned to a parched and singeing Berlin via Milan in August for part two of SMOOTH Moves and remained two and a half weeks, Cord, who hasn�t been mentioned much thus far, celebrated his moment of glory. He bundled Jared and Julia, his 16 year old daughter who was visiting from August to the 1st of November, off for "A"dventure in the Altai region of Russia, bordering on Kazakhstan, Mongolia and China. White-water rafting, horseback riding, hiking up mountains, exploring caves, camping � they did it all. J & J apparently didn�t get on too well then (both in the throes of puberty) and the situation didn�t improve on return to Moscow.
Meanwhile, Kyra and I back in Moscow, took it easy, tied up various "loose ends" and resettle. A few days of peace and quiet lay ahead of me before the Huns returned during the last week of August. (I haven't actually seen them for 1.5-2 months, so despite the uncomplimentary phraseolgy, at this point, I am actually quite looking forward to their return).
Avoiding all unpleasant details, let it suffice to say that the new constellation in the house made for a difficult and trying fall, a descent into hell from which I emerged periodically and most happily in Paris and Istanbul. Istanbul was heavenly, not in the least because it made me feel like I did as a 22 year old in Italy ;-)
Summer over and with the return of fall, I returned to teaching English at the German Embassy kindergarten and a weekly stint at the Moscow Tribune. In the latter case, weekly has gradually petered out to monthly, as various constraints, primarily financial, squeeze the last drop of life out of the paper. Kyra (5) started school in September, and though not always ebulliently eager, she�s coming along well. Her private piano and English lessons, both taught by young men (the latter has, sadly, left Moscow leaving a gaping chasm in her educational landscape), bring out the coquette in her, and she giggles away half the time.
Cord , somewhat unexpectedly, given his portfolio as press and public information head, was tasked with managing the upcoming German-Russian Culture Year. Now, when you consider that this enterprise is to cover the entire Russian Federation, comprising some 9 time zones from (Baltic) sea to shining sea (Pacific), you begin to get a feeling for the dimensions of the endeavour. Once the secondment of an excellent former St Petersburg colleague was secured to coordinate work, he breathed an audible sigh of relief and experienced more restful sleep.
Starting in October, I coordinated the German Embassy�s crafts group for the International Women�s Club winter bazaar, and that took up all the energy that I would otherwise have spent gallivanting. Thanks to the strong business community contributions, Germany netted about 10% of the total bazaar takings of over $150,000 when it was held in December.
Kyra and Jared (his was the first infection) are just getting over consecutive bouts with chickenpox, mild in Jared�s case, considering his age. For a while, it seemed our vacation plans might be jeopardised, but with infirmity behind us, we will celebrate Christmas in Moscow and hopefully see in the new year in Vietnam (the tickets are yet to be placed in my hands). We are all looking forward to new and exciting adventures there and in the coming year.
Warmest regards of the season and
GOOD CHEER!
Gladys
for all the Meier-Klodts (accompanying photos on this page)
Return to my home page
*bosh: big or stay home (Source: the new English on CNN)
Vitamin C*: (family) connections (at State Protocol in this case).
Our coordinates are:
Direct Mail (preferable):
c/o Embassy of the Federal Republic of Germany
Ul. Mosfilmovskaya 56
119285 Moscow
Russia
By mail (via Germany, up to 20g):
Botschaft Moskau
Postfach 08 05 65
10005 Berlin
Tel. : + 7 095 147 6376
Cells: + 7 903 277 7264
+ 7 903 234 1089
+ 7 095 767 1972
[email protected] [email protected]
[email protected] (Jared)
