No.54 From Boris to Baileys

Yesterday I went in search of Checkov's gravestone which I eventually found in a cemetary located somewhere probably roughly central Moscow. The entrance lists its residents which reads like a Who's Who of notable Russians including Gogol (not to be confused with Google who is, of course, still very much alive) Shostakovich, Raisa Gorbachev, Nikita Khrushchev and Boris Yeltsin. Everytime we asked for the location of Yeltin's grave we got the same reply "Just look for the crazy marble". They were right. It looks nothing like a headstone but more like a piece of something rescued from a water theme park. If my Interent skills are up to it I'll upload a photograph.

Last night I ended up at a pancake party in North West Moscow. In the kitchen I talked to a Sergey an ex military man and a veteran of a few more drinking campaigns than me at a guess. The Baileys appeared as did the Irish Whiskey and amid a good few drinks and cigars we chatted about Shakesbeare and Dovtoyevsky, sorted out Chechneya, & Bosnia and a good many of the world's other problems too. Right now the state of my head feels like the world's biggest problem....

No.53 Of Lifts, Jumps & Pirorettes

"Bolshoi" I found out last night is Russian for "big". Their theatre is anything but this at the moment because the whole thing has moved to a temporary arrangment whilst the original is renovated. This means we were in a rather small and cosy place perfect for someone who wants to see the faces of both those in the pits blowing their instruments and those on stage blowng ther lungs out whilst piroretting.

It was a new production of a ballet called Bright Spring. I think it must have been a friends and family night last night. The auditorium was stuffed full of loads of girls no older than 16 each as thin as a stick of celery all looking like aspiring ballerinas. They were there with their siblings (just as stick shaped) and their not so stick shaped Mothers.

We arrived to our seats late because four in my party were wearing heels which prevented us walking up two flights of stairs. Instead, we queued for a lift which took us up two floors only after three bells had sounded indicating the start of the ballet. The Russians by the way, may have got the first man in space but they yet to get me in a lift which inspires confidence.

The lead ballerina, Nina Kaptsova, was mighty. And wow could she pirorette. As a kid I could never understand how they could spin so many times without getting dizzy and fall over. But then I figured that they would probably spin 15 times round one way then 15 times back the other to cancel it all out....

If I'm not mistaken she also chucked in the odd entrechat-douze too. This, according to my google research of a moment ago, is a jump with beats of the feet or to you and me a jump in the air after which the toe of the left foot touches the heel of the right and vice versa as many times as possible before landing. The Englishman Wayne Sleep holds the record for doing more of these than anyone else in one jump (15 if I recall correctly). I remember this because to show off my knowledge of ballet to a newly made friend at Bar School I once asked her how many entrechat-douzes she could do. "17" she replied "with a rocket up my ass". Jo May your ad libs were great but where are you now?

Off to the Gulag museum today. Think a small early breakfast might be in order..

No.52 Of the Bolshoi and Bendy Rivers

Wow! According to Google I had a record 19 unique visitors to this blog yesterday and that's without mention of the two words that send the stats counters rocketing "Sex" and "Porn". What will it be tomorrow I wonder?

Moscow is a superb city but impossible to navigate. Each street name is in the cyrilic alphabet (something I have yet to master). Unlike London or for that matter Londonderry the river doesn't split the city in half. Instead it bends, winds and swirls itself through so that in some parts of the city it's possible to be standing both North and South of the river at the same time! Work that out?! The main landmarks (the seven towers) all look spectacular but pretty much the same. What's Russian for "Can I have a satnav please?"

The seven towers incidentally were all built by Germans after the war and finished some six years later. That must have been some life for an awful lot of men. Five years at war, which you lose, and another 6 constructing buildings each of which are about as high as the Empire State without much gratitude shown to you during and after I'm sure.

Off to the Bolshoi later. Can't wait.

No.51 The Long and the Short of it is..

Terminal 5 turned out to be far better than I had expected. The only let down were the Humus dips in the Salsa café. Tasty but far too much garlic and boarding was cut fine as I hoofed it to the gate via WH Smith and a long queue for some mints.

The flight to Moscow was barely half full. We were assured that the landing would be bumpy and we weren’t disappointed. The whole plane shook as we hurtled to a stop. The ashtrays popped out their sockets, the video screens seemed to move first left then right and the air stewards strapped firmly in their seats in front of me both looked at each other as though to say “only in Moscow”. The captain then came on and explained that they keep asking for the runway to be resurfaced but that it hasn’t happened yet.

I got up to see two passengers behind wearing face masks. Swine flu or Garlic humus I wondered?

Oddly, the only programme on Russian TV in English I could get last night was National Geographic on Aircrash Investigations. It did not make for cheerful viewing but left me grateful that the only incident yesterday was a bouncy landing.

Today I had my first business card exchange with a Russian. I swapped with someone from the Russian Ministry of Agriculture. Her title is Deputy Head of Department of Science, Education, International Cooperation and Maintenance and Head of International Cooperation and Maintenance Division. Boy can the Russians do titles? And did she feel short changed I wonder getting just Barry Phillips Director back?

No.50 Of Moscow & Madge

Fulfilled a lifetime mini ambition of mine today to go jogging round Hyde Park. I was hoping I'd see Madge out too as she's playing the O2 arena tonight and stays in a hotel in Mayfair by all accounts. Alas 7a.m. must have been too early for her or may be she was busy on the phone to Malawi instructing her lawyers.

Hyde Park is great. There's so much going on. There's joggers everywhere in the finest of gear that West London can turn out. Soldiers trotting by on horses off to Horseguards Parade. There's lots of drivers parked up in dark suits and glasses waiting no doubt for the call to swing by in their very large cars to one of the many embassies that hog the edge of the Park.

Had a terribly civilised Veggie breakfast outside a cafe in Kensingtom talking to two airline pilots from Singapore airlines.

About to jump of the tube and head for Heathrow and Russia. "Must go".

No.49 London - it's serious...

Ah London finally somewhere you can order a peppermint tea without the waiter looking at you like you're a complete moron - bliss.

I flew in with Aer Lingus. Their headrests are great and can be shaped to fit round your head perfectly guaranteeing a power nap without minutes.

I saw Morrisey last night at The Waterfront having ventured into the Chinese next to it beforehand only to make a bolt for the door when we saw just how lousy the menu was. There was nothing on the Japanese menu vegetarian. The photos of the food made you feel like you were in Benidorm or the Canaries rather than Tokyo or Shanghi. Guess we should have guessed from the green astro turf type carpet that led us to the door. Ho hum! For their Dim Sum...

Morrisey. Wow! What a consumate performer. Had forgotten just how pleasing it can be listening to a guy sing "Girlfriend in a coma I know..it's serious".

No.48 Mr Shonga for President - Malawi Moments Part 3

Day 6 (or thereabouts)

So far we've met loads of Malawians. They all pop up to the house say hello and disappear as quickly as they arrive. There's Janet our house keeper. She's in her 60s and laughs all the time. And I mean all the time. Even when she talked about a bad area of the district where as she put it "They'll have you for your body parts" she laughed. There's Mr Shonga the one eyed house keeper and sometime entrepreneur. There's Zion the young Bob Marley look alike, artist and part-time farmer.

23 December.

We went to Mr Shonga's house for tea. He has two wives and they both served us encima the national food. It is pale white in colour and comes shaped like silicone breast implants. It's made from maize. It's an acquired taste and one day I hope to acquire it.

The following day Mr Shonga took us as guests to visit a village community. This involved an early start and a drive along a very bumpy track once off the main road that soon disappeared into little more than open bush. Three seats were placed in front of a small tree offering some shade and a little comfort to Peter, Debs and I until we waited for the village folk to arrive. After about half and hour they had and Mr Shonga give the welcome address. Other dignatories present were introduced including the Chief, the Assistant Chief, the Chief's advisor and the advisor to the Chief's advisor. Questions were asked and answers were given and the floor reclaimed by Mr Shonga. He duly addressed the ensemble and as the 3 of us peered at him in his suit, mobile at his side he delivered what the occasion required of him and much more besides and for a goodwhile too. He looked every bit the next president of Malawi or at least the man who wants to be.

There's something about the name Mr Shonga that suits him entirely and his persona. I can't help but feel that had he been born in Blackpool 100 years ago George Formby would have had a song out for him on his ukulele. "Oh Mr Shonga...your speech was too longa.."