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Albatross133...or the story of an inveterate traveler roaming the world. What isn't avidly covered in real travel time is done in the course of a working day, albeit virtually… December 15 Goodbye Wesley, lil' buddyA little four legged friend of ours, Wesley, passed away this weekend after sharing just 3 years with us. Too soon too sudden an illness, probably gall stones or something, struck him the Saturday afternoon and by Sunday night he died and we didn't even have the time to take him to the Vets
Ball of mischief, you'll be missed, lil' buddy June 21 Back to Kyrgyzstan – 2 years afterSome 2 years after my first visit to Kyrgyzstan, in 2007, I was going back this time for 2 very different and very important reasons: First and foremost to celebrate the birth of my wife’s grandson… of our grandson…David. (I say “our grandson” like that because it’s a new notion to me because when thinking of son and grandchildren until now I logically think of Geoffrey but being now a part of this new family, into which I was immediately accepted, a change of vision occurred as I was naturally and at once considered grandfather by the family). The other reason for going back was that it was the first visit back, with my beloved, to see the in-laws, relatives and family friends since our marriage in 2007. There was some festivity to be expected and of course their being of Russian origin meant some serious staying power and Paracetamol were required and I wasn’t disappointed, but more of that later. Preface
If you’ve read that the story of my first visit to Kyrgyzstan (see the page about Kyrgyzstan on my website Albatross133) you’d have gathered that getting there is no easy matter, often requiring 1 or 2 transits and hours of waiting, last time I went it was via Frankfurt then Moscow and spent more time in transit than flying because the only plane to Bishkek gets in around 5 in the morning! So with that in mind I set about convincing my beloved that there was a better - and more economical - way of getting there. My plan consisted of taking the train from Grenoble to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, then flying, via Moscow, to Bishkek. Satisfied at my sense of organization I was in no way prepared for the for a national strike movement in France the day we were to travel. An event that would, once again, prove the age old adage that the best laid plans of mice and men weigh precious little in the cosmic balance… or in this particular case in the face of the French Workers unions manifesting, once more, their discontent against some anti-crisis measure the French government was preparing. The initial travel plan was for my beloved to fly alone to Bishkek and I would join her later. We had thought of flying from Lyon - probably via Istanbul - to Bishkek, as she did last time. Alas! We watched in stupefaction as the price of flights doubled then quadrupled, going from around 900 euro to something like 4000 euro in the space of a couple of months! This is where the plan B was thought up: My beloved would go by train from Grenoble to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, if possible, directly. There she would just get off the train at the terminal 2 - avoiding the hassle of crossing Paris by metro or RER in the process - check in, go for a stroll, have a coffee, do some shopping, relax and quietly get on the plane, nice and easy! With what in hindsight I would qualify as “redoubtable female intuition” my beloved expressed skepticism at my plan B. She said it seemed a bit more complicated than “just” getting a flight from Lyon to Istanbul, then onto Bishkek - Going “her” way : My beloved would just have to put the many bags – mostly full of baby’s clothes and things - in the plane at Lyon and not think about them again until Bishkek. - Going “my” way: My beloved pointed out, the inconvenience (for her) was of having to look after the bags until she got to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. Ah ha! I said, that’s the beauty of taking the TGV train directly to the Charles de Gaulle airport! You just need to get off the train find a trolley and wheel it to the terminal registration desk, hand them over and go off and do some shopping. What would she do, all alone, if something happened and there was a change in Plan, she asked. In the end my beloved’s logic and intuition won the day - plus the fact that I knew what a change in plan while crossing Paris would entail - so after thinking it through and checking my agenda at work I told her that I would be going with her just to make sure everything went OK, which as it turned out was probably the most intelligent thing I’ve done this year!!! The French rail system… or the difference between offering clients a service and providing users with one…So having settled the way to go we needed to settle how we would get there and booking tickets was a potential “Catch 22” situation. Booking the plane tickets, there and back, was easy and quickly done. Booking the trains was another matter and in hindsight an omen of things to come. I went onto the SNCF’s website – SNCF being the French rail system - to book the train tickets but just couldn’t seem to complete the booking so off we went to the SNCF’s local office, to inquire about trains that corresponded with our flights. Seating myself across from the salesperson I learned that for trains going to Paris everything was OK and what I wanted. But when I inquired about the train back I was told that, due to major work on the tracks, there would be no trains running at all between Lyon and Grenoble during the month of June…full stop and no further explanation. Surprised I asked if there was an alternative coach service running. Nope, Nichts and Niet… nothing planned and no concern of theirs, I was told! When I sat back and had the audacity to comment on this I was sharply reprimanded by both salespersons present who promptly and simultaneously stabbed finely manicured fingers at the half A4 sized piece of paper stuck on the wall behind me. After putting my reading glasses on I saw the statement in question that effectively freed the salespersons from any responsibility and obligation to provide an alternative solution. Thinking before speaking, I finally settled for booking the train one way to Paris, informing them - much to their supreme indifference - that I would find an alternative solution and politely thanking them for their help took possession of the tickets and stepped out of the booking office. ----------------------------------- Shuttle buses and other solutions
So what to do? I needed to think about that question before my beloved asked it and I needed to have a look on Internet so pretexting the need to let the super Thai/Asian lunch we’d just had go down we went home. Once at home and after a nap the solutions started germing, well actually one solution in 2 parts. From having taken the Lyon airport shuttle bus between Grenoble and Lyon, more than once I did some research and found that a shuttle bus also worked between Lyon 'Part Dieu' station and Lyon airport station, but none that went directly from Lyon, to Grenoble - of course that would have been too easy! So using Lyon airport as the hub I finally managed to plan the penultimate leg of the trip that consisted of getting a shuttle from Lyon rail station to Lyon airport, then getting the Grenoble shuttle bus from Lyon airport and then on to the ultimate leg of the trip that consist of taking the tram from Grenoble station to Fontaine! So just to summarize things here’s the trip as I finally planned it, from start to finish, that we would be taking some 4 weeks later: Going: A 10 minute walk from house to tram; 10 minutes by tram to the rail station; 3 hours by train, via Lyon station to Paris; a 3 hour stopover at Paris airport to do some Duty free shopping, relax have a drink before boarding the plane for a 15 hour something flight (2 time zone change and stopover at Moscow included) to Bishkek, arriving around 5am Coming back: some 8 hours (2 time zone change included) of actual flying time from Bishkek, via Moscow, to Paris; 2 hours train to Lyon; 35 mins shuttle bus Lyon train station- Lyon airport; about 60 mins shuttle bus to Grenoble; 10 mins tram to Fontaine; 10 mins walk to the flat …and bed. Fact, fantasy and realityThat was the way it was supposed to go but like I said this wasn’t counting for the fact that there would be nationwide strike movements in France one the day we were to travel! After managing to get up nice and early and leave the house in time, we dragged our combined 40 something kilos of baggage to the tram stop. On getting my breath back I chanced to look up at an electronic sign at the tram stop informing the reader that due to a demonstration in down town Grenoble later that morning travelers were to expect disruptions to services. How lucky we were, I said, to be getting away albeit it on holiday, for a little while and to a country where they don’t have the luxury to strike or demonstrate against a project of a law. ----------------------------------- Part 1: Getting thereWe got the tram to Grenoble train station as planned. I parked wife and bags and went off to check the train departure board to see what platform the train to Lyon would be leaving. I looked and looked again but found no trace of the required train so off in search of information and found it in the person of an arm banded agent who prompted informed me that due to a nationwide strike movement the particular train we were to take had been cancelled and I would have to find an alternative solution, which I did in the shape of a TGV train that would leave some 30 mins later than the original. OK, so where was the train actually going to? Gare de Lyon in Paris I was informed. Horror and stupefaction, this was the scenario I wanted to avoid at all costs because it meant crossing Paris by Metro or RER which, never an easy task, with 4 suitcases became a task worthy of an SAS assault course and reminded me of when I did the same thing in Tokyo! Murphy’s LawWe eventually found the train that would take us to the airport and just to be extra sure I asked a man seated by the door of the train who lethargically informed me that this wasn’t the right train and pointed to the one across the platform. I looked up at the sign just over the door looked across at the other platform’s sign board and I decided to trust the signboard rather than the young man and we boarded. I must admit I was feeling rather hot, aggravated and generally frustrated …in other words seriously pissed at the time lost in getting across Paris but said nothing to the young man until a woman asked him the same thing and on seeing him point to the train across the platform. That was it and being my mother’s son I started bawling the man out for talking crap. The man laconically shrugged his shoulders and continued listening to his MP3. He was probably just back from the job shop, wasn’t thinking, didn't care, was only going 2 stops and very probably didn’t give a freak about life in general, but then who would when you're out of work, (need I add) of immigrant origin and live in Aulnay-sous-bois*? Whatever! We finally go to the airport terminal about an hour and something before the plane was due to leave but being a major airport you have to go miles before you actually get to where you are supposed to go and thoughtful as they are there are signs telling you how far you actually are in minutes from where you are heading, which doesn’t help End result we checked in 45 minutes before the flight. Spent another 10 minutes getting through security, another 10 mins getting to the gate, which as usual and respecting Murphy’s Law was right at the end of the departure hall and to boot totally void of any shops or distributers in the immediate vicinity to alleviate parched throats. Meager consolationFortunately the plane wasn't ready and they hadn’t started boarding so I downed bags and shot back to nearest food & drinks stand and downed a beer - that tasted more of consolation than beer - so fast the shop assistant was still thinking about what change to give me! Part 2: Having got thereBishkek: A step back in time.
If you are not used to the part of this world coming to Kyrgyzstan for the first time can be a bit of a shock to a westerner accustomed to basic comforts. It can also appear to be a contrast, a step back in time and certainly the start of an adventure. Concerning contrasts. When you go to Tokyo, for example, you are immediately confronted with a contrast. Kimono clad Geisha looking girls,with cell phones blaring the latest hit tube of the moment, walking past metal and glass skyscrapers that disappear up in the clouds. When you come to Bishkek you also confronted with a contrast. You have the girls – mostly with Asian features, some very Slav looking – clad in “Made in China” replica D&G clothes walking with cell phones blaring the latest hit tube of the moment but the similarity stops there. No metal and glass skyscrapers in Bishkek, not yet anyway, just a lot of 1960s Soviet era style, brute armored concrete buildings doted here and there with modern wedding cake like pink, blue and yellow coloured buildings. In Tokyo everything is orderly and conceived to get a maximum of people – around 20 million people in Tokyo alone– from A to B with a minimum of fuss. In Bishkek it’s the other way round…a minimum of people - Kyrgyzstan has ± 6 million inhabitants in the whole country - move around with a maximum of unruliness. Believe me I am not especially pro-Japanese but perhaps the Kyrgyz authorities could take a couple of leaves out of that particular book as far as organizing their public transport system is concerned. When you fly into Bishkek it’s always at around 5 in the morning, maybe that’ll change next we come, we’ll see. You then have to spend ages trying to get a visa that seems to be calculated by the look of the client and then upon leaving the security zone you always get greeted by a host of tanned Asian looking taxi drivers. Hard to tell the official from the pirate taxis and having taken a pirate taxi in Shanghai I had no wish to repeat the experience ever again so I either hire a cab in advance or get someone to pick us up. Manas airport is some 30 minutes away from Bishkek and the sight of the mountains in the distance is spectacular and could remind you of say Geneva but when you start paying attention to the immediate surroundings - and the state of the roads - you jolt back into reality. The roads are good for a short while and on certain stretches but as you start to get near to Bishkek they deteriorate very rapidly and I’m not talking about small bumps or pebble sized holes but deep, car wide , 3 inch deep potholes that systematically destroy shock absorbers and damage axles if recklessly ignored. Strange that a capital city should neglect its roads and streets so but then you learn that money is either serious lacking or has been seriously miss-appropriated. Entering Bishkek, the capital city, is low key… no dormitory suburbs fore-warning you of your arrival, you are just there. The “Welcome to Kyrgyzstan” & “Welcome to Bishkek” signs are in Kyrgyz and Cyrillic and almost go unnoticed if you read neither of these languages, the universally used “I love [heart] ...” type signs, missing during my 01st visit, can now be found on certain main boulevards, notably near the Hyatt, and read “I love [heart] Kyrgyzstan” . The few monuments and statues that line the roads, here and there, are flakey and rusting remnants of its soviet past tiredly rival with building tall advertizing of local Telecom services, masking blank walls of soviet era concrete grey buildings… “Cache misère” the French would call it. But back to the roads and streets. Central boulevards have been resurfaced, and roadside grass verges are now being look after (although they still cut the grass with scythes) to impress the visitor and smooth the way for the big German or Japanese saloon cars or S.U.V.s to cruise by (for such an openly poor country I have never seen such a concentration of big cars). ----------------------------------- As well as an abundance of roadside grass verges Bishkek has lots and lots of shady, wooded and grassy parks (the grass lawns a long way from the English lawn that makes an Englishman’s soul sing) in which the “Bishkekchane” - as the local inhabitants are called - like to stroll and sit. A long way from Kensington gardens and Hyde Park in London or the municipal parks in Tokyo, the parks are much sought after, preciously shady havens for hot sunny Bishkek afternoons. A drinks vendor, human not automatic, is never far away selling quenching refreshments, from the universally known soda to the local specialty, literally called “Shoro”. “Shoro” is a fermented yeast juice that looks like cold milky coffee and tastes like, well, yeast…Either you like it or you don’t and in my case, In my case I’m ashamed to say I don’t...I pride myself on my tolerance of culinary exoticism and local specialties but this is one local specialty that just doesn’t even get past the tonsils!!! There’s also any number of cafes and restaurants in the parks, some for tourists, some for the locals. Try the locals, the fare is ok to good and they are cheap but be careful to either speak Russian or be with someone who speaks Russian because the staff aren’t against adding to the bill if they think they can get away with it! Bishkek also has a lot of casinos open 7/7 – a major source or parallel revenue - and the night life is very much worthy of a capital city, proof to me that there are very definitely 2 economies at work in Kyrgyzstan! ----------------------------------- Come to think of it most the shops, especially food stores, are all open 24/7 as well. So having newly arrived in town and want to go in search of refreshments late in the night the supermarkets are open all day, unthinkable in France. However I wouldn’t really recommend going shopping late at night, not at unless you are accompanied by someone who speaks Russian. My wife’s family told us that recently criminality is on the rise in Bishkek, mostly petty felony, theft and pick pocketing in the Marschrutkas so I would recommend that you stay alert and avoid looking too much like a tourist otherwise your wallet will be gone in a flash… Almost happened once to me in a supermarket, fortunately my wife warned me and I moved away in time… god knows how many times I had been sized up without my/our being aware of it! A word of advice. It’s a hard, harsh and unpredictable life in Kyrgyzstan, as in rural Russia, and locals are not adverse to physical explanations so a word of advice. Be careful and be streetwise. Keep yourself to yourself and never over estimate yourself…nearly all the local men of over 25 have all done at least their 1 year conscript military service, if not more and are trained to fight. This coupled with their inherent rough nature means they have shorter fuses than most westerners. Getting around, in and around BishkekOnce you get off the main boulevards and go into outer areas with their bazaars and housing complexes its another story and while the big saloons and SUVs are omnipresent the state of the roads makes progress difficult not to say hazardous for drivers and pedestrian alike, as cars swerve suddenly to avoid potholes. Marschrutkas also add to the general havoc of the rest of the traffic and are perpetually on the lookout for traffic police who will stop them and take their due but a sign the that the times are changing is that since my last visit the local authorities have started running a normal regular bus service with normal sized spacious and airy buses Shopping in and around Bishkek… Big stores or BazaarsLike any major city in the (ex) USSR Bishkek had and still has its “ZUM”, or state run shop for the people and privileged. The Soviet state gone but the ZUM (or state shop) still exists and thrives to a certain degree offering telecom services on the ground floor, perfume and clothes on the 02nd and souvenirs for the tourists on the 03rd and so on but the “Bishkekchane” don’t come to the ZUM to shop for everyday clothes they go to the numerous bazaars dotted around Bishkek, “OSH” being one and “Dordoi” being the other and most important. While “OSH” bazaar is reputed for its fruit, vegetables, herbs and spices, Dordoi is perhaps the bazaar to go to for everything from hair repair lotion(?!) to washing machines, via carpets and everything for the house, from screws and light bulbs to China tea sets and French glass I’ve never seen in 26 years of living in France. Its also the place where the major part of the “Bishkekchane” go to cloth themselves, notably with Made in China” replica D&G and Lacoste clothes* My beloved also tells me that a every now and again some enterprising Kyrgyz businessman will go to China with a Patron or a model of a particular item of clothing and approx 2 weeks later several thousand copies will be on sale at the Dordoi bazaar. Like “OSH” and the other bazaars of Bishkek, the “Dordoi” bazaar is made up essentially of 20 foot long freight containers. In this day and age when whole cities in China grow out of the ground, almost overnight, to handle freight container traffic a couple of thousand such containers won’t go amiss in this “off the silk road city” where they very definitely serve the good purpose… but you have to see it to believe it, Once into the middle of the Chinese sector of the bazaar you better not be claustrophobic. It’s a real labyrinth with small passage ways is not even 2 foot wide and where the carriers, urchins of 12 or 15 - sometimes younger - ply tea, cakes and extracts from the Koran. People are always bumping into you or shoving past or yelling at you to get out of the way ( which you had better do or suffer getting run into by a rusty push cart full of boxes). ----------------------------------- While in Bishkek…Putting my 2 cents worth of analysis of the Kyrgyz society to one side for a minute as I said at the beginning the real reason for us being in Bishkek was to celebrate the birth of our grandson, David, and belatedly celebrate our wedding with the Russian side of the family (still have to do the same with the English side of the family). Whatever you may have heard about the Russians, hospitality most certainly plays an important role for an especially proud people and tables, all be they full of simple fare, are full with salads, meats, sausages and fish. Not forgetting of course the most important, the Drink: generally vodka but also cognac and wine, mostly for the women, and sodas and fruit juices for the kids and the wise. The wise thing being to chase the alcohol down, to dilute it with fruit juice or soda if you don’t want to get legless and slide under table in no time!!! Festive meals invariably last several hours and it is not unusual for people to get up and stretch their legs and go for a pee. In the countryside this means a trip down to a wooden shack at the bottom of the garden – Welcome to the real and rural Russia - come back, wash their hands, sit down and finish what they were eating. I had the privilege of partaking several times in such meals and after some apprehension came, to a certain degree, to terms with the trip down to the wooden shack. All was forgotten as you sat down and had your glass filled with vodka or cognac. Mind you on visiting the paternal grandparents, had I strayed off a little too far I would indeed found myself peeing in Kazakhstan. Talk about watching one's step!!!
Quick word of explanation. The people I met, the Russians, are proud. Toilets may well be outside but hygiene is very important and when you first go into any house you always take your street shoes off and wash your hands before sitting down to eat. ...and lake Issy KuulA trip to Kyrgyzstan is not complete without at least a trip to the country’s biggest lake “Issy Kuul”*. Situated some 3 bumpy hours Marschrutka ride from Bishkek, and at an altitude of some 1600 metres, is Lake Issy Kuul, and the resort town of Choplon Ata, Choplon Ata, site of the lakeside summer residence of the Kyrgyz president’s **. ** Contrary to our first visit security seemed tighter - or just more apparent - this time and as we entered the complex we were eyed as potential intruders. However after having established who we were and why we were there, plus a couple of phone calls to the travel agency, it was suggested that I leave my beloved at the datcha type studio cottage we had reserved and go off with the men to the sauna, drink vodka and have some fun with the local girls...but faithful hubbie that I am that particular offer was of course a non-starter! *** The source in question being the Central Asian Post First time we went it was April and although still cold - hardy Brit that I am - I went and had a paddle in the icy waters, only to be disgusted by the sight of a healthy sporty looking guy sprinting along the beach, stopping to do his 10 press ups on the beach before diving head first in the icy water…That was last time.
This time it was June and although still of season it was nice weather, at least for the time we were there. I have to add that we arrived in a down pour and our departure was delayed because of another down pour but in the middle we had splendid sun and after braving the waters I finally decided to go all out and dive into the water (no sign of a healthy sporty looking guy to put me off – in fact the whole beach remained essentially empty the whole time we were there). I’ve said how the weather was nice and sunny and I also said that what altitude we were, 1600 metres, and I’ve said that the waters of the lake are salty. Now add all that together and you have a guaranteed sun-tan within 40 minutes of “after lunch” sunbathing.
I did prepare myself for this eventuality, bringing hat and sun cream along, but somehow you always forget a spot and as the salty lake water dries on your skin in the sun and at that altitude you just hope you put the cream everywhere. Alas for me I forgot some places and come evening I was regretting not having just poured the bottle of sun cream all over me, but half bottle of local Brandy helped a bit, at least it helped me sleep, sleeping some 12 hours that night, probably from the mixture of sun, exercise, altitude and the Brandy. Issy Kuul, alcohol and dried fish
Speaking of Brandy my beloved explained that every time she had been to Issy Kuul before and hadn’t had something (alcoholic) to drink she caught a cold. Catching a cold in June did seem a bit strange to me - the risk of sunburn was greater - but bowing to my beloved wisdom and experience, and never one to pass up an invitation to a drink, we set out in search of the nearest shop selling and duly found the required (alcoholic) medicine. Having procured the indispensable medicine we set about immunizing ourselves against colds and other ailments in pure Issy Kuul tradition…. A happy time was had by one and all! Another tradition of Issy Kuul is its dried fish the locals sell everywhere and you drink with beer. The Russians love eating dried which they peel first then eat, and I suppose this has become a tradition the local cash in on. Dried fish can be found all around the lake but my beloved tells me that the best fish can be found further back along the lake on the way back to Bishkek and, enterprsising people that they are the Marschrutkas drivers invariably stop along the way to allow the voyagers to buy dried fish... it being another tradition never to come back from Issy Kuul without dried fish .
Part 3: Going back4 weeks of hard earned holidays end as quickly as they are long in the coming and the odyssey of a trip back looming. As far as I am concerned and contrary to my beloved I am not overly sorry to be going back. I have been asked on several occasions if I wanted to stay and work in Bishkek. Honestly I don’t think I would. Although the standard is relative to the salary - the average wage in Bishkek is ~150/200 $/month (a qualified computer programmer can earn ~800$/month) - there are certain comforts and social benefits, generally accepted as eternal in France, that are sadly lacking in Kyrgyzstan. No, me, I am heading back with the idea that other horizons may be opening and other opportunities to be seized. My beloved and I will be back but to see the family once a year and see our grandson, David, grow with each yearly visit. Fortunately we bought a video cam so that her daughter can film David as often as possible and send the films over internet…the wonders of modern technology. Part 4: The trip back … or the Homeric tale of a newly purchased China tea setWell the trip back turned out to be every bit as “Homeric” as promised above. A day that started at 2.30 AM and continued through until we opened the front door of the flat and found my offspring had forgotten to water the plants as I had asked him too…I’d wring the blighter’s neck but I need to stand on a chair now!!!! Whatever! We finally flew into Moscow and after a 30 minute sprint round the circular duty free zone at Sheremetyevo airport, to buy last minute “Putin” branded vodka, we were on our way to Paris. And there it started. Firstly there was a bomb scare and the authorities closed off the passport control zone where we spent 45 minutes or more so that they go off and dispose of the unattended suitcase some kind soul had forgotten and then when we finally got to the baggage retrieval point we found that my beloved’s suitcase was missing. Upon enquiry it transpired that some had rerouted the bag onto another flight that was to arrive an hour of so late, too late for us to what as we had a TGV to catch that was too take us to Lyon. After settling reclamation procedures and obtaining assurance that the bag would be delivered to our Domicile no later than 48 working hours later we set off in search of the TGV train that was to take us on our next let of the journey, to Lyon. That done, and having traveled for 2 hours – 01st class, if you please - we finally reached Lyon where, with the luck of the Devil, we managed to get a shuttle to Lyon Airport (see my comments above about the French rail system for the reason why for this) and finally our 02nd and last Shuttle bus from Lyon Airport to Grenoble…so why not have gotten (sorry for the Americanism but it’s a bit late at the time of writing) a train from Paris to Lyon airport? Ha-ha, others did and had to pay twice because the shuttle bus driver, who I also had a barny with over our newly acquired Chine tea set, refused to accept the travel vouchers voyagers presented and made them pay again promising refund upon presentation. Oh, intelligent husband, my beloved whispered, tapping me approvingly on the arm. Yes I had anticipated that one and paid once, not twice, for the shortcomings of the French Rail system…but honestly can you imagine the mess it is? Simply stopping all passenger rail traffic between Lyon and Grenoble for a whole month and not even consider putting an alternative in place to relieve tired travelers? Epilogue. Anyway we unpacked what baggage we had and to our immense satisfaction found that all the little souvenirs we had either put in my big bag or I had carried around all day in my back pack had got home safe and sound, with nothing broken to regret, including the half bottle of brandy I had stuffed into a spare pair of shoes and coddled with a pair of tired socks…but the best was to come. After a little dinner and some of the brandy we opened the bag containing our new China tea set and found that everything, from the poorly protected cake plate to the magnificent tea pot had come through unscathed …a just cause for more brandy and as she down the last drop I could see the glint in her eyes that meant that if we could do it with a 36 piece China tea set, we could certainly do it with something else…ok well I‘ll have to wait and see what my beloved has in store for me for next year when we go back to see her family and our, by then, 1 year old grandson David.
January 30 Douce FranceI saw in the French news the other day that one or several councils/public housing authorities in the Parisian region were contemplating relocating people living alone in "large" flats into smaller ones so that larger families in need of the adequate lodging could move in! I was astounded! The people potentially concerned by these measures had been living peacefully in their homes for years and although the flats were state owned, and not private property, they were in France, the Douce France beloved to the late French singer Charles Trenet. It seems to me that tenants in France do have certain rights, especially, if they have the means, the right to continue living in a home that has been theirs for many, many years. A home where their children had been born and in some cases where partners, since passed on, had left the home with loving and tender memories! yes it does happen.
And why not build new flats? Wouldn't that solve the housing and the unemployment problems at the same time? But of course I'm forgetting about the financial crisis.
My astonishment was further fueled by the fact that these people were not living in 200m2 sized apartments but shoe box sized flats of 65m2! I really was scotched and felt like I was listening to something Orwellian or from Soviet Russia where state appropriation of private housing was a thing of the 30s and 40s and the first thing to be abolished as soon as Gorbachev started implementing free economy measures to open up Soviet Russia. If the councils and public authorities want to undertake such actions let them look at all the property owned, amongst others, by the Universities of Paris , EDF, Total and other Multinational corporations. And what about all the property the French Senate and parliament own? Apartments of more than 300m2, sometimes up to 1000m2 in central Paris left empty or let to senior civil servants at ridiculously low rents. Such scandals have come to light , thanks to certain alternative newspapers like the "Canard enchainé" (a French word game: Canard is a duck as it is a popular French term for a newspaper), where such apartments were found to be empty of tenants with all lights and central heating full on to prevent the property from degrading! amazing... and the carbon footprint in all that ? Actually my wife is more amazed than me at the state of things in France. She comes from an ex-Soviet republic striving to build a viable economy and wonders how a country like France can move forward with all these strikes and demonstrations. They never seems to have change anything and leave the people, the workers, to wonder how they are going to get to work in the morning, because they have to go to work, without any public transport or get home because a demonstration has blocked the traffic...Lucky to get a bus home during the last one day strike my wife was further dumbfounded to see a Barbecue being setting up in one place to help the demonstrators restore themselves along the way! Why not deck chairs and waitresses, sorry restaurant personnel, as well!!!
January 25 So focused...I looked at my "Blog" the other day and realised that I hadn't posted anything since last August. Shocked at the thought that apparently nothing had happened in my life since then that merited a comment - no trips, no nothing - I decided sit down, think back and take stock of everything that could have happened since then that's occupied me so much that I didn't have the time to write about it. It was like I had been running on radar and then that the words of John Lennon came back to me: " Life is what you are living while you're busy making plans". The problem is that I can't recollect making any plans. There was so much to do, in an everyday way, that I was just so focused on living my life. Workwise October and November where spent in "end of financial year" and contractual discussions with my management, client and team ( I am still trying to decide which of the 3 caused the most headaches). Weeks went by when I would get up Monday morning, brace my shoulders for the week to come and before I knew it Friday was there! December came and went and the problems that had preoccupied me for the past few months, although still there, had calmed down. I had spent the best part of 2008 watching the US Dollar weaken and reach ± 1.60 against the Euro and was fearing the impact it would have on my team. It seemed to me that contracting for HP in France was a delicate affair and a matter of time before the wolves came baying. But the global recession and financial crisis were beginning to make themselves felt for everyone, not just here in France. Irony and paradox! I realised that if things continued this way even currencies such as the Chinese Renminbi were not safe from the vicissitudes of global finances and clients might just revert to pre-crisis reflexes and use Western European resources. To traditional Western European business arguments (geographical proximity, minimal differences in regional cultures , business expertise, communications) I was adding newer arguments, resulting from the global crisis: An understanding of competition on a global scale, a better understanding cultural differences and the impact they have on the global market and finally the use of more dynamic and proactive business management systems (balancing cost control with Total Customer Experience)... ...and then Christmas was upon us (not to mention a bit more snow and cold than in previous years)...
...and in the time it took to say "aspirin", so was New Year.
Amen. August 12 Miro )))) ( ...or why you can't keep talent down
Instead of reciting own my travels for once I thought that I'd talk and share my thoughts about a journey someone else I know - I'll call him Geoff-san - is in the process of finishing!
Putting his life in France on hold and his musical projects to one side, the space of a year - he's a musician - Geoff-san went off and traveled some 9447 kilometres to explore and experience the intricacies of life in Japan, to study Japan... in Japan, at the University of Yokohama to be exact.
If you know nothing of being a Gaijin or Gaikokujin - an outsider - in Japan it can be an eye opening experience. Most westerners have very little idea of the complexity of Japanese society, its culture and the etiquette imposed on Japanese. For westerners who go there to live, even for a short while, ignore social obligations and adopt an "I don't care" approach it can be a very taxing experience. Yes life in Japan is very complex. It’s a lot more than the Kimonos and smiling faces most tourists see, much more. Foreigners arrive in a society that is 10 thousand years old and has used this time to elaborate a social structure so developed that not even all its natural inhabitants master it totally, let alone visitors and it was into this environment that Geoff-san immersed himself...a journey within a journey.
It’s an intensive experience and being able to speak a bit of Japanese can be of help like it can complicate things. It helps because you can communicate and make yourself understood, a “god send” when you have to ask for sheets and towels, in Japanese, on your 01st night and after a 14+ hour trip!
What makes it different from any administration, anywhere in the world? To my mind it's the attitude, the social etiquette I was talking about – you are an outsider!
But like I said it's his journey and no doubt he'll tell the story himself, rectifying and forgiving me in the process for any "artistical" interpretations in this present story. I've been a distant but proud and partial correspondent sharing the ups and downs of his journey and his albeit it temporary integration and, although I have a great respect for the Japanese people and its culture, favouring 01st hand experience and learning to better understand, I do have my opinions on the subject.
So where does the talent I mention in the title come in? Well as I said Geoff-san is a musician and as soon as he was established he bought himself a bass guitar, one thing led to another and he formed a group with some friends (called Miro= www.myspace.com-care4devon), had fun, got a teaching job, crossed cultural barriers and saw another aspect of life in Japan.
He knew it would be hard at times, even demoralizing, and it was but that’s what he went for he’s almost done and on top of that he’s validated his year and got his diploma…you see? You just can’t keep talent down….Did I say I was biased? You bet I am… I’m his dad!
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