The scowl and the smile: Two different perspectives on life as seen through the wrinkles of old women in Moscow.

After living in Moscow for a year and a half, I have noticed a general divide in the older generations.

There’s the бабушка (babushka) that everyone knows, the pushy, grumpy woman who is always yelling at one person or another about how their ignorance or inconsiderate actions are torturing her. She complains of how she doesn’t know if her heart can take much more of whatever minute thing has occurred. Every little thing drives her crazy and deepens the lines in her permanent frown. The world revolves around her and everyone is expected to bow down, clear the way or politely squeeze their way past her, if she is taking up the whole hall while spreading her gossip about this person or that. The lines in her face cause everyone to further entrench her in her stereotype. She has become bitter over years of not being treated with “respect” and seems to think all younger people are idiots. Unfortunately, this old woman is the more obvious one in Russia. She is the stereotype of бабушка – the one that everyone knows.

Fortunately, this grumpy old woman isn’t the only option. There’s another way of looking at the world, which is friendly and easy going. This бабушка laughs at her insane counterpart and with a smirk or laugh brushes off things that would send the other woman into a full on tizzy-fit. She smiles at couples groping each other and making-out on the metro and doesn’t mind waiting for the next train if the one she wants is full – just steps back and smiles. When she gets into a wagon, she does not feel entitled to a seat – even though the announcement says she is, but people usually get up for her anyway because she wears a permanent smile. She appreciates others’ happiness and is the woman to ask for directions when lost because she has time and enjoys life. The lines in her face show years of laughter and jokes, and she inspires others to become more friendly. If someone assists her, she may reward that person with an interesting or funny anecdote, and the gleam in her eye will cause people to look around for the humor she finds in the world. Of course, her friendly demeanor shouldn’t be mistaken for weakness. She is not weak and can push and take care of herself, but usually she chooses to go with the flow of people.

Both types of women are strong and shouldn’t be messed with. Remember that they have lived through ups and downs, certainty and uncertainty. They have probably suffered the loss of a loved one due to alcoholism and learned that there’s no sure way to guarantee health, security or money. The two perspectives boil down to one that regrets all she has lost and the other which appreciates all that she has.

Hackneyed interpretations of Malevich

An icon of modern art, Malevich's Black Square hangs like an albatross on the neck of contemporary Russian art. In order to show they "understand the history of Russian art" many contemporary artists very literally refer to Black Square in their work. There is a feeling of obligation in these pieces - almost as if an art professor assigned a project to comment on the looming presence of Black Square despite whether its presence is negative or positive or even understood.

At least five or six artists completed this project to a somewhat mediocre finish, and they are currently on display at the Moscow Museum of Modern Art's (MMOMA's) indiscriminate retrospective of the last 20 years of Russian art. There's the pregnant black square - a huge bulge protruding from the surface - perhaps signifying the weight and pressure that Black Square has placed on Russian art. There's the transparent square - a large plexiglass window which frames whatever is around it. There's the giant black pixel black square ... and the list goes on. While at first glance I found this "project" quite amusing, the repetition by different, unrelated artists and the lack of deeper meaning (aside acknowledgement of Malevich) felt more like a pointless obsession.

In the last 20 years, Black Square has become a sort of pop icon of the art world. In 1915 the work crushed the then common notion that art had to be representative or point to something from reality. Malevich knew he was creating an icon. He placed it in the corner of the gallery on its first exhibition, which is the traditional Russian place for religious icons. Despite the celebrity of the work, contemporary Russian artists need to free themselves from the specter of Black Square and move forward, rather than constantly looking back.

.10, Last Futurist Exhibition, 1915

After wading through the jumbled mess of Black Square interpretations, observing ignorant museum goers touch art work, and being overwhelmed with 30 different sound art pieces, the works of Irina Korina and Alexander Sokolov were a breath of fresh air in an otherwise overcrowded, over-thought mixture of Russian contemporary art.

Sokolov's work "Insects" Cycle, 1997, showcased square wooden cases, with glass windows, which each displayed a large art insect. At first I looked past them, but on second glance, the intricate detail work and the humor of the binomial nomenclature caught my attention. The first I saw was a bit shocking. Entitled something like Insectus injectus, the body of this insect was a large syringe and reminded me of a mosquito. The others were commentaries on consumerism, something like Consumerus vulgarus with an Adidas sneaker body, time management, with the body of a clock, and "Black Square" Metamorphosa Malevich with hard outer wings of Black Square. Sokolov's unique approach to an otherwise ubiquitous art subject caused me to look twice.

Korina's art, as always, was intriguing. Her main piece in the show, Tank, was a large wooden tank constructed of found parts of Soviet furniture. Aside from the atrocious display - visitors were forced to view this imposing installation piece in a small gallery with at least 10 other works crowded around it and without the ability to see it fully in the round - this piece was fascinating. Had I been alone in the room with it, I would have been tempted to find a way inside the tank. It reminded me of a child's fort, and I felt as though there had to be something hidden inside - perhaps this was due to the light emanating from it or the childlike curiosity that Korina's work inspires.

Korina, Tank

After an overall disappointing museum experience at MMOMA on Petrovka Street, I was relieved to have found both of these artists. Sokolov's humor and Korina's playfulness stepped out of Malevich's shadow, out of the disorganized clutter of artwork on display, into a bright new realm of Russian art.

A puzzle ring and the art of negotiation

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or maybe all the sun and fresh air I got in Izmir, but I was in a great mood at the beginning of my adventure in Istanbul. There were foreigners (and English) all around. I walked past Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque to get to my hostel. I arrived in time for breakfast and enjoyed a breathtaking view of the Marmara Sea. Afterwards, I ventured out into the rain to look for a narghilea (hookah). I walked back toward the Blue Mosque and through the market.

On my way through I got my first taste of Turkish business hospitality.

“Hello. Could I offer you some tea?”

“Hello pretty girl.” (This was occasionally in Russian, which I found amusing.)

“Hi, may I offer you some tea?” Each shop I passed, another man said hello and offered me tea, or asked me a question. A little overwhelming. I was glad to be through it.

On the suggestion of a carpet salesman, I soon returned to that same market and walked back through. This time I stayed more focused and ended up in a narghilea shop. The shop keeper asked me what I was looking for, we talked and joked, and rather than settling on a certain narghilea and a price, he offered me tea – which after a couple hours in Istanbul, I found quite normal. I accepted, and sat down contemplating what the narghilea I wanted was worth – I really had no idea.

We chatted, drank some tea, and being an American, after about five minutes of this, I decided to talk about price. I knew what I wanted was too low, so I asked him how much they usually sell for. He told me various prices all higher than I wanted, and I hesitated. When I told him my price, I tempered it with “It’s probably too low …” (I’m obviously not good at bargaining – in fact, I hate it.)

Being an astute salesman looking for a laugh, and because of the slow business and the rain, he said, “Ok, let me show you something.”

He took a ring from the ring holder on the table. “I will show how this works – you haven’t done this before have you?” I had no idea what he was talking about so I shook my head.

“I’ll show you how this works, and if you can put it together in 5 minutes, I will give you the price you want. In 10 minutes …” He went on to list a series of different prices leading from mine all the way up to his at an hour.

I thought, “No problem. I can do this. I can play this silly game and I will get a good deal.”

Then he showed me a puzzle ring. I’d seen them once or twice before, but had forgotten all the techniques used to put them together. Regardless, he showed me how to put the ring together – not once, but twice! He then gave me the ring and told me I could ask three questions.

I think he must have studied human psychology because while it seems like this would be an easy task, especially after watching, it was extremely difficult. I am someone that needs step by step instructions to reach the finished product, and what he showed me was basically step by step but it wasn’t as easy as it first appeared. As soon as I got going, I realized I only had the first step solidly in mind and the rest was fuzzy, but I’m stubborn and refused to use my three questions.

He kept talking to me. Asking me question after question. Muddling my already fuzzy memory of the puzzle. Wanting to know what I thought of Istanbul, where I was from, what I was doing in Moscow, what I thought about the possibility of opening up a narghilea café in Moscow ... Needless to say, an hour passed, and I still hadn’t gotten the ring together. I felt like an idiot. After I gave up. He showed me again, physically involving me in the process – maybe I really am a kinesthetic learner because then it was easy. I got it together no problem. Lesson learned – I don’t do enough tinkering in Moscow.

After spending about two hours chatting, drinking tea, and messing with this puzzle ring, of course he had persuaded me – without words – to pay his price for the narghilea. He was clever. Granted, I got “ripped off” as far as prices in Istanbul are concerned, but the price was reasonable compared to prices in Moscow or the U.S. and I got a couple hours entertainment on a rainy day. I left the shop shaking my head at his ingenuity and his creative way of getting me to pay a higher price. I vowed not to be stopped by anyone else offering me tea, but this is a difficult thing, especially on a rainy day in Istanbul.

Turkish hospitality and me

Whistling = Money Loss

Boxing Day in London (December 26) I got back to the hostel after a day outside London, put my purse in my locker, grabbed my laptop and was about to sit on my bed when I changed my mind. I’d be somewhat sociable and go upstairs to the common room to check out the internet. I was up there for an hour or so dinking around on the computer and then decided it was time to go back down stairs. When I went into the dorm room I saw someone unfamiliar, because it was Boxing Day not many people were staying at the hostel. I said “Hi” with a bit of curiosity, but he acknowledged me, passed me and left.

I heard a bit of whistling as he went down the stairs. Strange … I always wondered about a Russian belief: whistling = a loss of money. Now I get it.

About two seconds later, when I passed the bunks, I noticed my locker was open. What? And my purse was open … shit! Horrible thoughts raced through my head. Not thinking what I would do if I saw him, I bolted back out the door, down the stairs, and stuck my head out on the street. My heart was pounding. Of course the guy was nowhere in sight, and if he had been, what would I have done anyway? He was a tall guy and probably worked out. I went back inside, locked the door, went back up to the room to check the damage.

First: passport? Still have it.

Second: credit cards and debit cards? Still have them.

Third: cash? Gone. Luckily I only had twenty pounds in my possession.

Then I thought, how coincidental – had I not gotten lost and needed a taxi to get back, I wouldn’t have had cash and who knows what he would have taken to get the money he thought he needed. This well-dressed, good-looking thief took all the cash I had but left all the things I place value on: my camera, my New Years dress, my passport, my cards, my recent purchases. The main thing he shattered was my trust in my safety and security. Because of this, I went back upstairs to let the other guys at the hostel know that they should check their stuff. After that, the doors to the dorm room stayed locked, the host let me put my things in his office, and I didn’t let my purse out of my sight (yes, I slept with it).

Later, I reflected and thought back through all my missteps. Firstly, when I picked out my locker I knew it wasn’t that secure – you could easily pull at the door because the lock was a bit bent. Secondly, not keeping my purse with me. How hard is it to just carry it around the hostel? Thirdly, not listening to my intuition the whole way through from the locker to the use of internet. Finally, I decided that everything happened the way it did for a reason – theoretically if I had been downstairs the guy would have turned around and left, but something worse could have happened. Also, I came down after he had rummaged through all of my things and gotten what he wanted – if I had come in the middle, he may have just stuffed my purse into his backpack. Obviously he felt like he needed the money and really, if you are that desperate, you can just have it …

Traveling has a learning curve and thank goodness I just lost cash.

Don't feed the birds: Trafalgar Square

Christmas Day in London brought me to Trafalgar square where I watched people taking pictures with lions and climbing on the Battle of Trafalgar's memorial statue.

Not long after arriving, I noticed a young boy trying to get the abundant pigeons to eat out of his hand. They wouldn't have it, so he started throwing the bread and the birds began their decent. Not only did the pigeons come, but seagulls too, and then there was a battle for the food.

Now, most reasonable children would have been overwhelmed by pigeons flying at their face and landing on them, and most sensible parents would have tried to put a stop to the nonesense of dirty birds landing on their child. But ... neither of these things happened. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or maybe it was just intrigue, but the boy wasn't frightened and his parents didn't tell him no. Instead, he grabbed more bread and started tossing it. Finally, the boy began to get worried when the pigeons stopped dispersing after the food was gone and started crowding around him. They are not completely dumb birds, they knew who was giving them food and started coming up to ask for more. The boy, fed up and no longer willing to have birds fly around him, eventually started stomping at the birds, like he wanted to crush one - wonderful Christmas thoughts, crushed pigeons ...