Moscow Notes

10 days in Moscow; it starts with a child like excitement to meet the loved ones of my special lady. But also to see, hear, smell and try things in a legendary place with so much going on. It ends with some kind of hard-to-get-rid-of hung over, exhausted, and somehow defeated feeling.

I have no doubt Russians, check that, Moscovites, are strong. You have to be strong to endure the long and energy sucking commutes to, from and within this megalopolis. I grew up in and around New York City, I’m Lisbon guy deep in my heart, but the roads, metros, buses, sidewalks of Moscow are another animal altogether.

But never mind the city for a moment. Let’s talk culture and attitude.
14650454532_25875b32cc_zSo often you feel like a citizen of the world in one of those international destinations that people have been talking about for generations. You feel like you’re in the heart of a creative-living-breathing machine that is and will continue to be a major player on the world stage. That means as much economic, as it does social, and cultural. And despite what you may have heard in the media and what you may hear from the people themselves, it is not exclusively scary or unfamiliar. Whomever you are in this world today, of course you have things in common with the average Russian.

But ok, then there are the other occasions. Times when you feel like you’ve landed in another time. 10, 20, 30 years behind in terms of accepting people for being different when in comes to sexuality, ethnicity, or religion. So often someone’s views on the world are reminiscent of something someone’s preachy, no-nonsense, know-it-all father back in New Jersey used to say when I was a kid. It can be daunting, worrying, and disappointing. I arrive thinking we are all neighbors and part of the human family, but I’m confronted by individuals who see themselves as separate, unrelated, and worst of all – under siege by the judgement of much of the world.

Siege mentality, as you probably know, can be very dangerous and destructive. Never mind who’s fault it is or how it came about for the moment, that it exists to some extent among such an important group of people in this world, that alone is cause for concern and lament.

Let us come back to the city. I learned of its history. More than I ever knew before. I saw great beauty and impressive achievements of this rich culture. Special credit here to the Cosmonaut Memorial Museum, which not only covered Russian space achievements in impressive detail, but also acknowledged the global effort to go further and do more in space.  On the lighter side of being able to laugh about the past, I had the hilarious pleasure of playing the best and worst of Soviet era video games at the Soviet Video Game Museum. A topic close to my heart as a boy who grew up loving the arcade culture of the United States in the late 80’s and early 90’s.

I have to mention but I won’t really talk about food. You don’t want to hear my glowing review of the food you find in the Russian capital. Perhaps they don’t deserve credit anyway, like my home city of Amsterdam, my favorite of their treasures are often from other countries and other cultures. Special thanks to Georgia, Thailand, and Vietnam among others.

Part 2 – The Journey Home

Just as all these and other bits and pieces played and re-played in my head awaiting the already delayed flight at Demededovo Airport, the unthinkable was happening a few hundred kilometers away. On the board we can see delays tagged on to every flight, which we thought might just be the poor performance of the airport on this day. After take off we watch the little flight map and I point out “Minsk” as we fly over Belarus on our way to a stopover in Zurich.  Another complex country that it would be fun to visit one day soon.  Upon landing there is a general grumbling on board from passengers who are worried about their connecting flights and pushing their way to the exit.

Though I consider myself an expert in metal detectors and ex-ray machines, somehow this machine beeps on me. A young Orange-is-the-New-Black looking security guard takes me into a cubicle for an individual scan. “Where are you coming from and where are you going” he asks in a matter of fact way. -Moscow. Heading to Amsterdam.- I tell him. “Oh, Amsterdam.” He suddenly drops the tough security attitude that didn’t seem to fit anyway. “Did they tell you anything on the flight?” – Just that we will make our connections and not to worry.- I tell him. “Oh, well, because something happened. A plane was shot down over Ukraine. On its way from Amsterdam or Antwerp, something like that.” – All I kept thinking was that this was some kind of security lie to test my reaction. In my tiny mind I believe airport security’s only aim is to annoy and delay me and they will use any means necessary (and have). I stare at him for a few seconds and it becomes clear that this is no elaborate plan. He is being real with me. This really happened. An entire commercial jet full of people was shot down and destroyed by some assholes on the ground with sophisticated military equipment.

A minute later I’m just about at the next gate for boarding, a bunch of older gentleman rudely rush past me seemingly mad at the airline for slowing them down. I want to slap them, shake them, and tell them what has happened. For some irrational reason I believe doing this would make them be polite, solemn, and focus on the fact that people traveling just like us today, were suddenly and without any reason – killed in midair.

Of course I didn’t say anything. They kept right on with their rush-rush attitude. In their world the only problem with today was these late flights. Only later would they get the text messages and phone calls. Only later would they reflect on the bigger picture. The losses. The closeness of it all. The cruel randomness.

 

Al From Manila: Passion for Your Work

“You are this guy in the newspaper, who is writing about taxi drivers?” Al catches me off guard as he runs a comb through my hair calculating where his first scissor incursions will be.  I’ve said three sentences to him about where I’m from and what I do and he immediately deduced that I’m the guy featured in a small article in the local 7 Days Dubai newspaper.

12091018683_ba06c40a3eAl is a middle aged bachelor from Manila, who has been cutting hair in Dubai for the past 7 years. With his calm demeanor, he seems to never be impressed by anything, yet at the same time he’s proud to show that he pays attention to what goes on in this city.  He’s a seasoned veteran when it comes to reading people, thanks to years of cutting hair, even before arriving in Dubai.

After almost three weeks of talking with taxi drivers I forget that not everyone bounces from job to job in an effort to stay in the country and send enough money home. When I ask Al what other jobs he has done over the years, he stops cutting to make his response perfectly clear, “I cut hair, this is my passion. It has always been my thing. In this life a person should follow their passion otherwise the job will never be well done or enjoyable.” I look up at the well groomed wise man and blink my eyes slowly to acknowledge his very important point.  After a brief moment of mutual understanding, he gets back to cutting.  “Before this I worked on cruise ships. I saw the world. But always cutting hair.” Al is a rare bird in a city where many people seem to do whatever they can or whatever earns them the most. He cuts hair with great energy, pausing periodically to step back and see what is taking shape.  The salon is not his, but you can feel the respect emanating from his colleagues and even the boss who is sitting a few steps away from us near the cash register.

“Have you gotten many taxi drivers from the Philippines?” he asks with the kind of smile that says, I know the answer. This is a trick question of course, as Al confirms, Philippino people rarely drive taxis in Dubai. “Buses yes! Housekeeping. Hospitality. Everything else. Just not taxi.”

Al proceeds to quiz me about what I am learning from the people I talk with. He even adds some of his own experience he has gotten from behind the salon chair. His observations of Dubai reveal a great appreciation for its diversity and beyond that, as a place where he can do what he loves. I had expected the sharp criticism of labor practices and social separation between  classes that so often gets talked about, especially by my taxi drivers, but Al moves right past that, speaking instead about the country as a multinational land of opportunity.

As the haircut comes to an end, I ask for a shave. Al happily obliges me and it gives us more time to talk. Family, travel, work, the two of us weave in and out of numerous life topics. With the completion of the shave he offers me some other small touches for my hair, which I happily accept. He finishes up, shakes my hand, and tells me it was a pleasure to meet me and all the best with my project. I seize the oppertunity, I ask Al if I can come back and ask him more questions. “It would be my pleasure, anytime in the evening when I finish work.”

Unfortunately for me I didn’t realize that only 24 hours remained of my journey. Errands, goodbyes, and a few more taxi rides would keep me busy and far from the salon. In my last few hours before heading to the airport, I run over to the salon hoping to catch Al on his way home and ask him more specific questions about his life.  As I walk in, a few unfamiliar employees are cleaning up. I’m warmly greeted by the owner who delivers the bad news that Al had already left for the day. He shakes my hand and promises to deliver my goodbye message. “Come back and see us sir, we’d be happy to hear from you and good luck with that project of yours!”

So it goes sometimes, my Dubai adventure goes from a surprising encounter to a missed opportunity.

Marta’s Kitchen: A Workshop for the New Dubai

I may have come to Dubai to listen to the stories of taxi drivers, but what I quickly figured out is there are many layers and many stories in this rapidly growing city that has attracted people from every corner of the world. And so, on my first days in Dubai, in between taxi rides, I did a quick search for healthy quality cuisine in this extremely new neighborhood I was staying in. Although this massive area is filled with hundreds of restaurants, the internet somehow led me to Marta’s Workshop*, where Marta Yanci originally from San Sebastian, Spain, and her talented staff, cook up a different menu everyday.

Marta’s work represents a growing movement in a city that is more known for its tall skyscrapers and massive shopping malls rather than small, unique neighborhood businesses. The moment I sat down at the communal table in this modest and charming dining room, I knew something worth talking about was going on here. A thought that would be only further reinforced when I tasted the fantastically delicious food.

No it isn’t a taxi story, but it is an interesting part of this big Dubai puzzle that – honestly- few media organizations ever dedicate the time and energy to look at in its entirety. Dubai might be young in terms of history, but it already has many layers, each of which shows us something potentially worth learning from. My original inspiration and my focus is still Taxi Drivers, but what you might notice when you listen to Marta, and I have noticed in and out of the cabs, there is something bigger going on here that interconnects everyone.

* You can also follow Marta on twitter

What to Expect in the City of Gold

As part of preparations for the Dubai Taxi Driver project, this week on the podcast we discuss what to expect inside and outside the car in one of the world’s most famous cities. My guest is Agnes Tandler, a Dubai based journalist who has been taking taxi’s almost everyday for the past 4 years. In her experience, anytime you get into a cab in the “city of gold”- you’re in for a surprise.

Also this week, the Dubai Taxi Driver project countdown begins, with 4 days left to join the kickstarter funding campaign, and 1 month before the journey starts. If you haven’t yet been to the page, read the plan, or watched the video, click over now as time is running out!

At the beginning of the podcast this week you will also hear music by Neighbor from their new album “Water in the Pocket.” Highly recommended.

Life, Death, and the Stuff in Between

One week since the death of my grandfather, this podcast contains a few personal and professional stories from my life over the past few months. Though this program is usually focused on interviews and issues from all over the world, its origin is this very formula: one person, a microphone, honest observations, and you the listener. So consider this an example of going back to the roots of my work online. It’s personal.

Regrouping and Recharging

For the first time in the history of this site I have been mostly silent for almost a month, choosing instead to spend time with family, and act as a good tour guide for visiting friends here in Portugal.  A sort of regrouping as over the past few months several issues have arisen and plans have fallen through that left me confused about how to proceed.

Tractor ActionOne issue is perhaps familiar to many freelancers out there in these times of economic difficulty and the decline of paid journalism, a client who will not pay for work that I have been doing for several months. It is probably a legal issue to even mention it so I’ll just leave it at that, those that do similar work are probably all too familiar with the issue so I don’t even have to explain further.  The kind of unexpected development that leaves one financially crippled and looking for any available solutions in the short term, including falling back and regrouping in a country where life is cheaper and family can provide a little comfort for a few weeks.

While I have been on this hiatus I also did something I have never felt comfortable doing, applying for funds from a foundation in order to do a podcast project.  Those familiar with this site know that direct donations from readers and listeners has long been the way to go when it comes to funding my work.  No middle person or hoops to jump through, no having to explain my work to people in a position of power who have little idea of what this world of personal media is all about.  Somehow, presenting myself here in this forum has long been something I feel more comfortable with than trying to write an essay or submit a proposal in some formal manner. Even crowdfounding our project last year felt more natural and logical than sitting before a committee of 4 judges.  There may even be a committee out there that would understand my work and their financial backing would probably be more than I usually can raise on my own, but to this point, I still feel that this here is where I belong and where I am understood.  The world out there, filled with forms and hierarchies, thats the world where I get strange looks and disparaging comments.  Though I have to admit things have come a long way from the days of having to explain what a blog is or why podcasting is interesting.

It is fitting that setbacks come around the same time that the summer hits and my family gathers in the country that shaped a big part of who we are. It gives me a chance to reconnect with my roots, to reflect on how I got here and why I do what I do.  Surely days spent on the beach watching my niece and nephew play in the sand are good for the soul and will become the fuel I need to make things happen and push on with my journalistic-artistic mission that has been playing out on this website for more than 10 years now.  It may take some time and there will surely be more disappointments in the future, but recharging and regrouping is just what was needed at this point in my life-career.

What comes next? I’ll show you, very soon.