Earlier today, Russia's deputy prime minister Sergei Ivanov (scandalous former defense minister and apparently not related to Sergei Ivanov of the Estonian Reform Party) called for a boycott of Estonian goods. He remarked that a lot of Estonian processed dairy products are consumed in northwestern Russia, and suggested that the common folk stop buying the fascist yoghurt as a personal political statement.
This is not a new tactic in any way. Russia is currently blessed with a character by the name of Onischenko, who heads the agency responsible for quality control of food - the rough equivalent of what would be the FDA in America. The character has previously banned Georgian mineral water and wine; Kremlin's intention was supposedly to cripple the Western-minded Caucasus republic's export-oriented economy. That plan failed miserably - the supply was easily taken up by other markets, Estonia among them. This latest statement, from the man that was widely speculated to be Putin's successor until he grossly mishandled a scandal concerning the terrible treatment of Russian army conscripts by denying anything untoward was taking place, has no degree of plausibility as far as damaging the Estonian economy is concerned: thanks to double tariffs, Russia has not been a significant trade partner for Estonia for years. And the popularity of the deputy PM is such that Russian blogs are suggesting that people buy up every Estonian-made item they can find and send it to Ivanov. To quote one blog comment: "Estonian sour cream is awesome. And Ivanov is a fucktard."
The most ridiculous thing about this public statement is that by far the most widespread Estonian item, an item that millions of Russians have the opportunity to use on a daily basis, is a safety belt. The restraint systems in Ladas are manufactured at Estonia's Norma factory.
Of course, these things are being boycotted anyway.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Memoriam Reval: Sakala
The Sakala Center, built in 1985 as the central conference point for the Communist Party, was known colloquially as the Karl's Cathedral (Karl Marx in this case, and a counter-reference to the medieval catholic St. Charles Church, not too far away). It housed training facilities as well as a massive main hall; like many other 1980s Soviet public buildings in Tallinn, its architecture was about sensation rather than function; it was intended very much as a tribute to the grand power of the state.
Sakala Keskus now has a special significance as that very rare thing - a decidedly Soviet symbol that modern Estonians enjoy having around. When the government gave permission for redevelopment of this location, and the winning bidder unveiled plans to tear down the entire compound, it caused an uproar among the general population. The developer actually took out centerfold ads in full color in the major newspapers, defending the plans for the new mall. But eventually the Tallinn city government was forced to renegotiate its planning permission. The corner tower marking the entrance to the old Sakala Center, a gray tower vaguely reminiscent of a Flaktürme will be incorporated into the new structure, as will some other parts of the compound.
Karl's Cathedral is, it seems, one Soviet memorial that 21st century Estonians would like to keep.
Sakala Keskus now has a special significance as that very rare thing - a decidedly Soviet symbol that modern Estonians enjoy having around. When the government gave permission for redevelopment of this location, and the winning bidder unveiled plans to tear down the entire compound, it caused an uproar among the general population. The developer actually took out centerfold ads in full color in the major newspapers, defending the plans for the new mall. But eventually the Tallinn city government was forced to renegotiate its planning permission. The corner tower marking the entrance to the old Sakala Center, a gray tower vaguely reminiscent of a Flaktürme will be incorporated into the new structure, as will some other parts of the compound.
Karl's Cathedral is, it seems, one Soviet memorial that 21st century Estonians would like to keep.
Memoriam Reval: City Hall
I spent Monday wandering around Tallinn, taking pictures of monumental Soviet structures that are still significant. Probably the greatest of these is the City Hall, an enormous bunker of a concert venue and ice rink erected for the 1980 Olympics. Like all these imposing buildings, its footprint is vastly disproportionate to the useful space. Where modern buildings such as the Plaza multiplex manage to fit a surprising amount of function into a seemingly minor volume, these Soviet architectural memorials of gray stone and concrete strive to comprehensively fill up your vista.
You approach the City Hall via a large plaza, and climb a wide stairway, the bunker shape rising to your eyeline as you ascend. The long walk from the stairs to the main entrance - necessitated by the harbour rail line passing underneath - gives you time to take in the expansive projection of the complex. The amphitheater of the main stage is dug into the ground, a massive 6000-seat semicircle. A concrete pier juts out behind the structure, now the home of a Helsinki commuter ferry and a closed heliport.
It is difficult to find the one angle that would convey the brooding dominance of this compound. An amble through its courtyards and back passages leaves you with the impression that it could very easily feature in the next Half-Life or Stalker game.
You approach the City Hall via a large plaza, and climb a wide stairway, the bunker shape rising to your eyeline as you ascend. The long walk from the stairs to the main entrance - necessitated by the harbour rail line passing underneath - gives you time to take in the expansive projection of the complex. The amphitheater of the main stage is dug into the ground, a massive 6000-seat semicircle. A concrete pier juts out behind the structure, now the home of a Helsinki commuter ferry and a closed heliport.
It is difficult to find the one angle that would convey the brooding dominance of this compound. An amble through its courtyards and back passages leaves you with the impression that it could very easily feature in the next Half-Life or Stalker game.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Assassin
...watching Die Another Day on TV, and once again I am reminded of how much Daniel Craig is not a Bond. He simply does not have the same effortless yet menacing elegance that allows Pierce Brosnan to knock on a hotel door, punch the occupant in the face, come inside and root around in the desk without the exotic beauty on the bed in her underwear so much as batting an eyelid.
Daniel Craig can be a wonderful Mossad assassin, and a wonderful Irish mob assassin. But he is not an assassin In Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Daniel Craig can be a wonderful Mossad assassin, and a wonderful Irish mob assassin. But he is not an assassin In Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Day of Fools
Best gag yet is Delfi's newscast, featuring items like the Bronze Soldier being repositioned in Tallinn Bay where the statue of Kalevipoeg was supposed to be; a glass sarcophagus will be erected in its place, housing the giant chocolate bear that Laima, the Latvian chocolate factory, will present to the people of Ruhnu island. (Trust me, if you follow the local news, these make a lot more sense.) The anchor is Liis Lass, the Estonian equivalent of a Paris Hilton, taking her clothes off throughout the show. Hell, it's a way to boost viewer numbers!
Meanwhile I've been in Tallinn for two days now, and still have three days to go before I leave for Iceland. It's been over a month since I was last in the capital, and I am starting to feel once again that this is no longer my home town. It's also a very different city to drive around. Tallinn is only four times as populous as Tartu, but feels far larger. In Tartu, navigating involves figuring out where your destination is; in Tallinn, it involves figuring out how to get there. Tallinn traffic is a lot more intense (although nowhere near as bad as Riga), but most parts of the city are connected by thoroughfares with a minimum of traffic lights. Any trip by car is based around the arteries. The consequence of this is that you stop thinking of it as a single area, and start considering it as a set of plains, separate locals between which you can only travel on a main road. It is akin to the feeling people get in London when travelling by Tube: the physical proximity of objects is less relevant than the links between them on the Underground map.
Saturday afternoon, I found myself in an industrial back yard, phoning my friend the postal delivery driver, asking how to get from the Kristiine shopping mall to the Mööblimaja furniture emporium. I knew that they were very close and I vaguely knew which sidestreet I needed to take, but I got lost in the jumble of old houses and one-way streets in Haabersti - even though I regularly navigate similar terrain in Tartu.
The reason why I was going to the furniture shop is that my new apartment is ready ahead of schedule; I'm due to move in at the end of April, which means I'll have a massive rush right after I get back from my holiday. I need to figure out how to fit all the requisite stuff into a 36-square-meter apartment; or rather, I need to figure out a way to pack the maximum functionality into the minimum amount of furniture, where the furniture must still look good to my rather critical taste. This is compounded by the fact that I have only once been in a display apartment of the same floorplan - done up in a truly mind-boggling neon green, something between a magic marker and a high-visibility jacket - and I have no idea how the conservative-but-unorthodox color scheme that Nerva came up with for me is actually going to look. The concept was to do everything that can't easily be replaced in grayscale, and then add color with the furniture and art. The walls alone are three different shades of gray - and if Nerva had negotiated more than three different colors with the builders, it would have been more - plus the kitchenette furniture in its own variation. I still think it's going to be very nice, and an asset whenever I sell the apartment, but the sort of capability I want of the apartment is not easy to fit into the floorspace of a bachelor's semi-studio.
Still, I am starting to get a general idea of how to get it done. My birthday is coming up in early May, and I intend to have a great big party to celebrate it along with my housewarming. AnTyx readers are all invited. :)
Meanwhile I've been in Tallinn for two days now, and still have three days to go before I leave for Iceland. It's been over a month since I was last in the capital, and I am starting to feel once again that this is no longer my home town. It's also a very different city to drive around. Tallinn is only four times as populous as Tartu, but feels far larger. In Tartu, navigating involves figuring out where your destination is; in Tallinn, it involves figuring out how to get there. Tallinn traffic is a lot more intense (although nowhere near as bad as Riga), but most parts of the city are connected by thoroughfares with a minimum of traffic lights. Any trip by car is based around the arteries. The consequence of this is that you stop thinking of it as a single area, and start considering it as a set of plains, separate locals between which you can only travel on a main road. It is akin to the feeling people get in London when travelling by Tube: the physical proximity of objects is less relevant than the links between them on the Underground map.
Saturday afternoon, I found myself in an industrial back yard, phoning my friend the postal delivery driver, asking how to get from the Kristiine shopping mall to the Mööblimaja furniture emporium. I knew that they were very close and I vaguely knew which sidestreet I needed to take, but I got lost in the jumble of old houses and one-way streets in Haabersti - even though I regularly navigate similar terrain in Tartu.
The reason why I was going to the furniture shop is that my new apartment is ready ahead of schedule; I'm due to move in at the end of April, which means I'll have a massive rush right after I get back from my holiday. I need to figure out how to fit all the requisite stuff into a 36-square-meter apartment; or rather, I need to figure out a way to pack the maximum functionality into the minimum amount of furniture, where the furniture must still look good to my rather critical taste. This is compounded by the fact that I have only once been in a display apartment of the same floorplan - done up in a truly mind-boggling neon green, something between a magic marker and a high-visibility jacket - and I have no idea how the conservative-but-unorthodox color scheme that Nerva came up with for me is actually going to look. The concept was to do everything that can't easily be replaced in grayscale, and then add color with the furniture and art. The walls alone are three different shades of gray - and if Nerva had negotiated more than three different colors with the builders, it would have been more - plus the kitchenette furniture in its own variation. I still think it's going to be very nice, and an asset whenever I sell the apartment, but the sort of capability I want of the apartment is not easy to fit into the floorspace of a bachelor's semi-studio.
Still, I am starting to get a general idea of how to get it done. My birthday is coming up in early May, and I intend to have a great big party to celebrate it along with my housewarming. AnTyx readers are all invited. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
