Contact!

As I took my seat on the Korean flight 987, a sudden flash of horror crossed my mind. Would this be the last I see of my beloved Vladivostok? What a way to go! Definitely not the fairytale end to the "Russian Expedition".
My Mother keeps insisting that I was deported and looking back on it now that wasn't far from the truth. I had left so much behind, so much I still wanted to do, to achieve, friends, colleagues, family and my wife. One day there, the next gone! It was a horrendous way to go out. No presents for the family, half finished jobs at work and a suitcase full of dirty laundry. The "evacuation" took less than 12 hours and left me feeling completely guttered, heart broken, detached and giddy with no control over my life. Why does immigration have to be so complicated, especially when it's your family being ripped apart? So much uncertainty, so many unanswered and unanswerable questions. At the bottom of all this chaos there was my wife, Nastya, bravely waving goodbye, wondering if we would overcome the next juggernaut- A new working visa.
Somewhere in the skies over the Sea of Japan I passed out, helpless, exhausted and completely baffled.
How had the last year effected me? The answers continue to hit me everyday. Even as I sit here today, five days back in Brisbane, a certain profound objectivity surrounds all I see and do. Balance! Life now can be compared. It can be pulled apart and looked at through completely different eyes. Balance in you as a person. The messages is clear, I have changed but to what extent is still unclear and continually evolving everyday. Reflection, waters this strange but enlightening time in my life.
Australia, what does it mean to you? During my time in Vladivostok, the Russians were very curious as to what it meant to be Australian. Why did we still have the Queen on our money? Why weren't we a republic? Were all other Australians, sports mad adventures like myself? Stereotypically, the Russians look at Australia as a strange land, full of deadly animals, clean water and high living standards, but that is as far as it goes.
Personally, I hadn't heard a peep of any news from back home except for one of the Russian bank advertisements, gloating on the fact that they had more members then the entire population of Oz. Oh yeah, also, a couple of weeks before leaving, Australia was named as the fattest nation on earth, but that was all the news I had heard.
Had much changed? Had I changed? Questions still very much up in the air. Over the last year I had run into only one other Aussie, so I was chomping at the bit to reanalyze my own kind. It didn't take long as I hauled my luggage to gate 21, Seoul , Flight 123 heading for Brisbane. There they were, Australians in all there 'ocker' glory. The first thing I noticed was how friendly everyone was, or so they appeared to be. My Russification had taught me to beware the superficial western smirk, for contempt may lie beneath. However this negativity was soon abandoned as one bloke asked me, "How ya going mate? "Where have ya been?"
It was refreshing to say the least, a certain childish naivety the Brits and Americans don't possess but pleasant nevertheless. People were actually smiling at one another for no particular reason, odd, but strangely familiar.
These were my compatriots, happy-go-lucky, exuberantly friendly and dressed atrociously! What happened to the glamour, the stilettos and the impeccable ladies hair dos? Well, it had been replaced with joggers, tracky dacks and bad travel hair. I hate to sound sexist, but I'm just calling it as I saw it that day. The blokes were generally better groomed that the women. Styled metro sexual hair with shaved shinny legs, they left the women for dead with their birds nest, bed head hair and baggy prison style track pants. A clear case where comfort should never override style. I was left flabbergasted and a little disappointed at the average Aussies civilian wardrobe.

What the? Brisbane.!!!

Over 60 years ago Winston Churchill said "Russia is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma," and sitting here back in Brisbane, Australia I couldn't agree more.
What a whirlwind last 24 hours. One minute I'm planning the next day's classes the next I'm on a plane, getting the hell out of Dodge.
It all started two days ago when I had to extend my registration. I had a flight booked to come back to Australia for the 12th, however my registration expired on the 1st. This presented a problem as for some reason I was finding it difficult to find a company to prolong the registration. With nowhere else to turn I asked my well connected father in-law for a hand and thought all would be fine and dandy. However, in Russia fine and dandy equates to #*#* yourself scared!
Tolya returned with an unusually glum look on his face. The puppet master couldn't pull any strings and so there was a problem! I would have to go to the head honcho of registrations and plead my case. The problem itself is still, as I sit here in Brisbane, rather confusing to account and one day I will write a detailed description of the full dilemma.
After a solid berating from the head honcho, it was understood that an imminent departure was in need. That, or a 400 00o Ruble fine and a 5 year ban from the country! What followed was absolute bedlam. A ticket was booked, amazingly for 5.30pm the next day, but before getting on the plane I had to make a trip back to the head honcho and discuss and finalise some "paperwork". The use of the word "paperwork" in Russia covers a range of topics, situations, bookwork sensitive issues, etc.... Can't go into it all right now.
The catch was that the Honcho only worked between 2-4pm and I had to be at the airport at 3.30pm. Vlad's airport, by the way, is an hour out of town. So, in effect I had half an hour to see this woman , organise my mess and 'hare-tail it' to the airport. It was going to be close but I was quietly confident as I had backup in the form of Nastya, the director from EF another Nastya and Tolya. Nastya the director and I had attempted, on the off chance, to intercept the Honcho out of her work hours at 9 that morning, to no avail. And so re arriving outside the building 2 hours before opening we felt sure we would be first in line. That was until, we saw a little Kazakh man, holding a piece of cardboard from a chocolate box. "Is there a queue?"we asked. His answer was brutal as he passed over the empty chocolate box. To our horror the innocuous box had on it a list of people waiting to talk to the Honcho and we were 12th in line. My world came crashing in upon me. This was it, I would never make it top the airport! Visions of Russian prisons flashed through my mind. Enter Super Tolya!!
Swinging into action my father-in-law, like a man possessed, began interrogating everyone in his vicinity. It didn't take long, but before we knew it, he had made "friends" with the cleaner and was unbelievably, inside the building talking to the authorities. The rest is history and I'm still very confused over what actually happened, but as we left the the registration building the big high five to the cleaner spoke volumes!
After a mad dash to the airport I had made it. A little frazzled and a few more gray hairs, but I made it on board without any incident.

Summer Time! Not Cricket Time!

Well, Summer is here and with it come a variety of new social quirks and idiosyncrasies. Russian's adore the sun! Any chance to whip the gear off, adorn the super mini skirt and don the socks and sandals, is taken full advantage of. The summer fashion is amazing! Amazingly shocking! Don't get me wrong, the ladies clothing, or more to the point, lack of, is rather eye catching. No complaints there. However, the guys on the other hand seriously need help!

To start with, the socks and sandals/thongs/slides is rampant, as if it represents the epitome of summer"cool"! It doesn't stop there, for some reason as soon as the sun appears, out come the all white outfits. ALL WHITE! From head to toe, it's not hard to confuse many of the men for professional cricket players. Oh yeah, another style ground breaker is the open shirt look. Normally undertaken with the mandatory white linen shirt, this look works especially well on windy days, after the gentleman has had a belly busting feed and has adorned the very necessary gold bike chain. It's a crowd stopper, oh yeah, I forgot, the hairier the belly the better.

Men's hair cuts remain pretty much the same regardless of the season, brushed down, with a deadly accurate straight fringe. The hair dressers must all graduate from the same academy because every cut is a carbon copy of the next. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to buy hair wax. It's as rare as hens teeth.

So, in case you're wondering what else the bewildered Aussie has been up to, apart from critiquing the local fashion scene, I been following most of the other traditional Russian Summertime activities. Shashliking, taking the odd country getaway, drinking, swimming, sun bathing and not cruising the streets, shirtless proudly showing off the knee length socks and sandals. I may have been Russified to a degree, but this is one crime I'll never commit.

Country getaway.

Russian Island

Once on the island the events on the ferry miraculous disappeared. In front of me was a natural wonderland. Quiet, unspoilt, with nature wildly growing in every direction, Russian island presented itself as a complete contrast to the hustle and bustle of Vladivostok. Being a port city Vlad has a rep of being a wild town where anything goes. It's population might only be around the 800 000 mark, however the city itself is constantly on the go and one could easily be mistaken that you are in a thriving metropolis.

Russian Island, a short 45min ferry ride away, is a little (amazingly) unspoilt oasis away from the port's lawless hysteria. Once a huge complex of forts, the island now is the residence of only a hand full of Russians, who commute back to the mainland everyday for work. I was rather taken back by the surroundings. Rolling hills and lush forests backing up to cliffs and coastline the island is pristine and void of litter!!! This last point alone highlights the fact that not to many day trippers make the journey across form Vlad.

We set off as a group up through the forest towards one of the forts. The trek was spectacular, ocean lapping the shore to our left and dense forest to our right, whilst a thick mist rolled in from the ocean. Fog and mist are a normal springtime phenomena here and coming form Brissy, I am still in awe whenever murkiness descends.

Once at the fort the view was almost apocalyptic. Stretching out in front of me, both the ocean and sky were indistinguishable. As I stood looking out over the ocean all that was in front of me was gray murkiness. It looked as if we had reached the end of the earth. Turning away from this eerie sight and looking back at the island I was met with another fascinating sight. Billowing gusts of mist were rolling in from the sea and enveloping the island like a blanket.

I was completely sold on the island. Such a natural gem. Perfect! Hold on a second. Nothing is perfect and my awe soon turned into horror as I discovered that the island is home to some mad killers! Not the weird outback, chain-saw wielding type but the almost microscopic insect type.

Ticks!! These guys are extremely venomous and can kill. The month of May is "tick time" just about all over Russia and Russian Island being the pristine natural paradise is home to a huge population of them. Well, there goes my retirement dreams. No way in the world is a little tick going to take me out!

Sea and sky. Where does one finish and one end.

Standing on one of the forts.

Topsy Turvy

Expect the unexpected! I guess it's all part of the appeal. Russian life is a rapidly evolving creature, where anything is possible. It really is an exciting place to be. Democracy is only 16 years old, in a country with a vast history and so change is the order of every day. The people here are fanatical about getting a head creating a “Wild West” attitude towards business where just about anything goes. Coming from the sanctity and reliability of Australia, this topsy turvy lifestyle is shocking, entertaining and has a raw originality that is rather addictive.
Life is moving and nothing is set in concrete.
The examples are endless. Yesterday’s weather was a sunny 18 degrees, today after an impenetrable fog descended over the city the mercury plummeted into the single digits. Visibility now is 10 meters at best. Tomorrow, who knows what will be ditched up?
Last weekend, as part of the schools extra curricular activities, a trip to Russian Island fort was organized. Or should I say disorganized! The event started normally enough, until it came time to board the ferry, when all mayhem broke out. Something went wrong with the purchasing of tickets and the result was a major scuffle where our guilds for the excursion were up-ended and thrown back onto the pier. It wasn’t only us; other passengers were being pushed back off the ship, with one gentleman being separated from his wife. It was like a scene from a war tragedy, the wife screaming for her husband, the husband fighting through the soldiers (ferry attendants) to be reunited.
What followed was pretty ugly; punches were exchanged as the man forced himself on board. The whole experience left me scratching my head and putting it all down to just another day in Russia.

Labour and Victory Day

Two weeks, two parades and yet another two jam packed weekends.

The 1st of May was huge. I never thought a Labour Day march could attract so much enthusiasm and fanfare. Actually, I never thought I would even go to one of these things let alone enjoy the whole process. Maybe that's because one Nicholas Unsworth-Smith donned the fluorescent orange "Primorskie Avto Dorogi" (Primorski Automobile Roads) safety vest and marched along side Vlad's proudest. That's right, I managed to utilise my amazing powers of espionage and slide my way into the workers' parade. Well it sounded like a cool story. In reality I just happened to know someone who hooked me up. Anyway, the experience was none the less exciting. Thousands of people lining the streets, placards, balloons, drums and the odd drunken marcher, made the march unforgettable. My position in the parade was right behind a group of these odd drunken marchers. It was hilarious, whilst assembling into position these proud old workers, from out of nowhere produced bottle after bottle of vodka. Now, we had to assemble a good hour and a half before the actual start and so it wasn't long before these guys were swaying in the wind. One bloke was completely legless, literally, and I bet Sasha that he wouldn't last 20 meters of the march. How wrong I was, for when the cue came to begin, somehow the guys actually moved with some sort of order. Sure they were a little wobbly but they marched and marched on! Huge respect, any mere mortal would have collapsed or needed his mate to prop him up. All I could put it down to was years of experience.

The next weekend after Labour Day was Den' Pobedy or Victory Day. What a holiday! I mean just the significance of this holiday is awe inspiring. The day commemorates the Soviet Union beating the fascists all the way back to Germany. 30 something million of these guys were sacrificed, a mind boggling figure considering our whole population is only 20 something. There were more Russian soldiers killed than that of the total allied forces combined. There are many phenomenal statistics that are just incomprehensible. During the Leningrad siege, for example, in the Winter months 11-12000 people were dieing, that's more than a Gallipoli everyday! So with such devastation why wouldn't you commemorate, celebrate, toast the night away to VICTORY!

The parade itself was huge and in Moscow rehearsals started 3 months ago. Unfortunately for me the overwhelming crowds meant a very limited view point. The fact that I arrived 2 and half hours beforehand to position myself was a completely futile gesture. So it is difficult for me to comment on what actually happened.

Following the parade however, a group of us traveled out to Jeff's dacha or country house for the night. Toast after toast for victory ensured the 0 degree temperature was not even an issue.

Victory Day in the country.

Khabarovsk

Chalk and cheese! The differences were so shockingly blatant I thought I had traveled to another country. As I've mentioned before Nastya has been on a business trip for the last two weeks in Khabarovsk. Life without moya golubka has been trying and so last weekend I decided to take the 12 hour train trip to K-town and see Nastya. The official capital of The Far East, I had heard varying reviews of the city and so wanted to check the place out for myself.

The two lords of the East are 1000 km away from each other, geographically quite close by Russian standards, however worlds apart when it comes to just about everything else.

The two sibling cities share a certain affinity with each other as they are stuck out here in the East, isolated for the rest of Russia. They are roughly about the same size and are both ports, Khabarovsk being a river port and Vlad a sea port. And that's where the similarities come to a screeching halt!

Cars actually stopped at pedestrian crossing! Streets were litter free! Buildings were actually maintained! K-town at first resembled an old Soviet city caught in a time warp. A far cry from the hustle and bustle of hectic Vlad. The main street Muravieva-Amurski is gorgeous and well worth strolling its length from Lenin Square to the mighty Amur River. I was enraptured, I'd fallen in love with K-towns quaint boulevard, I was converted , I want to move here.

Hang on did I say quaint, let me rephrase, bloody boring. All that cleanliness, that politeness and that maintenance of Khabarovsk was suddenly washed away as I reached Naberezhnaya, (the waterfront) and the mighty Amur. This was the place where everyone was supposed to hang out. Naberezhnya in Vlad is a people watches paradise, but here not a sole was seen. Don't get me wrong it had potential, beautiful location, view and plenty of benches to sit and down a brew. But I was the only one there! That's right in a city of nearly 1 million, I was the only cruiser in what should be cruiser's paradise.

Khabarovsk is beautiful, just a little slow and boring. Restaurant service was painstakingly slow and no one seems to mind if you have to wait 45 min for a slice of cheese cake.

The nightlife however was a different story. K-town local Alexei, whom I met on the train, took Nastya and I to one of the most amazing clubs I've ever seen. "Nebo" or "Sky" is a 3 story club with a glass roof and aeronautical decor. It is literally set in the sky. Very cool place and once again the boy to girl ratio was learning heavily to the feminine side.

Arriving in Khabarovsk.Yes, that is snow and there is only one more month until Summer!!!???

Beautiful Muravieva-Amurski Street.

Natya, me and Alexei relaxing "Nebo" style, sky high.