Artemy Lebedev is en heeft het grootste desingbureau in Rusland. Zijn studio is een opgeblazen rariteitenkabinet in hartje Moskou. Binnen werken “ongeveer” 170 man, kris-kras door verschillende kleine gangetjes, felgekleurde kamers of enorme gymzalen. Het hele complex is een soort wonderland, de klok aan de muur draait linksom. Er staan collecties Sovjet-camera’s uit de jaren ‘70 samen met typmachines, omgesmolten laptops, verkeersborden en vliegtuigonderdelen. Wanneer het interview voor BRIGHT 18 bijna is afgelopen vraag ik naar het toilet. Lebedev gniffelt. “Je kiest er maar een uit…“. en toen waren er 4 deuren. http://www.artlebedev.ru/everything/toilets/

foto: Natasja Sergeeva / Lebedev legt uit waar volgens hem de iPod vandaan komt…

Een fletse ansichtkaart uit de Sovjet-Unie van de jaren “™70 – dat is de eerste indruk wanneer je aankomt in Minsk, de hoofdstad van Wit-Rusland. We schrijven echter 2007, de Muur is gevallen en Wit-Rusland grenst inmiddels aan de Europese Unie.

Sinds zijn onafhankelijkheid in 1991 staat het land onder de controle van Aleksandr Lukashenko, de president die zichzelf aan de macht weet te houden door keer op keer met verkiezingen en referenda te frauderen. Wit-Rusland kan met recht de “˜laatste dictatuur van Europa”™ genoemd worden, en is volgens “˜Reporters Without Borders”™ een internet-blackhole.

In Minsk zijn de straten leeg. Beangstigend leeg. Blauwe trolleybusen, ook leeg, rijden in een traag tempo door het straatbeeld. Sommige supermarkten zijn opgedeeld in zones; eentje met “˜Buitenlandse Produkten”™ ““ waar je Russische worst, Poolse yoghurt en Nederlands bier kunt vinden, en een met “˜Nationale Produkten”™, melk, bloem, eieren, groenten. De “˜buitenlandse”™ produkten zijn duurder, de binnenlandse spotgoedkoop en simpel. Op het pak melk staat louter “˜melk”™, de suiker heeft alleen het opschrift: “˜suiker, wit”™. (lees verder bij De Nieuwe Reporter)

For ‘Russia!‘ magazine I send in a fragment of a travelstory to Solovki as a sample. Find it below. When they like it I’ll make a full story out of it. It is a shame that one can buy that beautiful magazine on Hawai, but not here in Moscow. Fingers crossed.

When the plane descends and the pilot informs the passengers about the approaching landing and weather conditions, he speaks with pity in his voice. “œWe envy the passengers that are visiting the city of Saint Petersburg, one of the most beautiful cities in Russia”. That is a sure fact, but our journey goes further north. Catch the Baltic breeze and romance away for a couple of hours in Saint Petersburg, but be on time for the 17:20 train to Murmansk, the largest inhabited city in the polar circle.

The girls that work in kiosks and supermarkets nearby the railway station easily pick out foreigners. Natasha tells: “œThey buy two bags full of food and have a freighted look in their eyes. Many are afraid of travelling by train over long journeys”. Russians delight, as they know the best is yet to come. A minute before departure an old man joins the compartment and offers a glass of vodka. The on-board mechanic and me accept the offer, the girl that sleeps upstairs excuses herself. The old man gets small glasses and without a single word spoken the three strangers share a glass.

After two hours the trains halts at a deserted station. Must Russians head out for a smoke, and load up on food that is sold by old ladies, they manoeuvre nervously along the crowds of people disembarking the train, many make a living like this. All food is home-cooked and in many cases as fresh and tasty as one can find. For deserts find cups of hand picked rasp- and blackberries. It is here, rather than in expensive Moscow restaurants, that one can find the real highlights of Russian cuisine.

(”¦)

Your first awkward experience that makes you realise how far up north you actually are, occurs when you check the time on a moment you then still perceive as “˜mid-day”™. The clock however tells you that it”™s ten to twelve, about to be midnight. At this moment it could be 7 p.m. back home. Light is everywhere. About an hour later it gets a bit chilly, and I put on a pullover. After a stroll along the harbour I try to sleep. My efforts are little fruitful, morning has broken already.

(”¦)

If you have time on your hands you can go back the same way; over water to the city of Kem, followed by a 24 hour train-journey back Moscow. Flying is the second and better option. The roaring sound that howls over the island twice a day is the twin-propellered connection to the mainland.

Back in Moscow. Phone rings.
“How are you baby, how was the train-ride?“, she asks
“Terrible, as always“, I say.
Russian 3rd class just kills me. I am too fall for it. People bump their heads to my feet. Sleepless nights.
“So, I’ll see you in California“, she says
“Yes!“, I say
“Dress light baby“, she says.
Dress light. I sure will

Article 22. Information of denied provision and (or) distribution

It shall be forbidden to spread and distribute information that:

is directed towards a violent change of a constitutional system, propaganda of war,raising racial, national or religious hostility or discord towards humiliation of national honor and dignity;

infringes upon morals, dignity, honor and business reputation of citizens, business reputation of legal entities;

other information, provision and (or) distribution of which is prohibited according to legislative acts of the Republic of Belarus.

from: Mikhail Doroshevich * e-belarus.org