Tonight's gem of a performance was Kratt (The Goblin)—a dance parable about forbidden love, totalitarianism, saunas, and the Almighty Dollar/Euro.
Sublime (with 12 curtain calls).
bummer /
Went to Finland.
Didn't meet Tom.
He must've been tied up.
Sugar High /
Breaker Breaker 1 - 9 /
Breakfast:
• Juniper-seasoned raw salmon
• Sliced tomatoes
• Rye bread
• Crumbly bleu cheese
• Porridge with a dollop of honey & dried blueberries
• Pot of black tea
If there was any doubt—yes; yes, I am in Scandinavia.
First impressions of Finland: /
Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Rock. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Rock. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Lake. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Rock. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree.
Dona Nobis Pacem /
Grand Hall, St. Petersburg Philaharmonia.
*Not my photo.
Today, St. Petersburg marked a painful, joyless anniversary.
74 years ago today, German troops completed their march across the Baltics—blockading Soviet Leningrad (St. Petersburg) and severing the city’s food, transportation & energy lifelines.
During the lead-up to war, some residents escaped. But with the Nazis’ arrival, 2.2 million people became trapped in their own city; surrounded by Hitler’s army, they were cut off from the rest of the world and forced to fend for themselves.
For 2 1/2 years.
Without food. Electricity. Heating. Or running water.
Disease ran rampant. All the while, the German army pelted the city with endless sprays of air and artillery bombs.
1.5 million people died of starvation, the brutally cold weather or bombing raids.
***
I attended a moving concert tonight at the glorious Philharmonic Hall.
The composition—“The Last Message,” for orchestra and 80-voice male chorus—illustrates the futility of war (and the humanity of its fighting soldiers) via handwritten letters from the front lines of WWII.
No matter the Theater of War, the letters are essentially the same. Letters written in English. Italian. German. Japanese. Russian. French. Chinese. Turkish. Hungarian. Greek.
“I love you, I miss you, I hope to see you soon.”
Fittingly, the final, futile hymn is in Latin—the universal language, the mother tongue: Dona nobis pacem—Grant us Peace.
* (Not my photo)
A Retrospective /
Ten years ago this week, I re-invented myself.
After so many years of neglect, stress and abuse, my Psyche needed a reboot: I’d had enough.
I decided that no longer was I going to be defined by my career. Nor by my partners. Or by my possessions and income.
I needed to chuck it all. I needed to rediscover what made life worth living—worth getting out of bed in the morning.
Ten years ago this week, I doubted my sanity; “You’re cutting your lifelines and upending your life.”
Six months on—after searching deep and finding a natural purpose and rhythm—I could tease myself with a “Why’d you wait so long to do it, bub?”
In the intervening years, I’ve learned much about myself. About our planet.
About human nature. And friendships.
About art and music; about science. Religions.
And let’s not forget food.
But—most importantly—I am happy*.
I’ve taken creative problem solving—that which has always propelled me—to get me everywhere from the jungles of Laos to the souks of Morocco. From a sea of stars in the Outback to juke joints in the Mississippi Delta.
I’ve seen amazing temples and heard mind-blowing music. I’ve even seen a magnificent sunset or two.
So, on this anniversary I’m left to wonder: What good things will the next 10 years bring?
*(for the most part)
***
The Last 10 Years : http://therobf.com/map/
Don't cry over spilled blood /
As if this onion-domed stunner wasn't click-bait-worthy on its own, the locals have re-dubbed "The Church of the Resurrection of Christ" to a more BuzzFeed-appropriate name: "The Church on Spilled Blood" and built on the spot where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated in 1881.
Cosmos-bound /
Cosmonaut Obelisk, ВДНХ, Moscow
Здравствуйте /
Saint Basil's, Red Square
I had high hopes that my grueling semester of Russian with "Machine Gun Pete" Silins some 30 years ago would pay out with a few long-term dividends—no matter how small.
Frustratingly—even after a few days acclimation—the answer remains "nyet."
Nonetheless, happy Saturday from Moscow.