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Welcome Crisis

After Vilnius I even had no time to breathe in and breathe out.

I sat down in front of my Skype the same evening.

I had scheduled events online.

To wake up the next morning seized by a looming crisis.

Yes, right.

This very stupid and visible economic one.

Lasso, chafing twine.

Snatching everyone indiscriminately.

I wish it were something more personal instead.

Yesterday’s events I had throughout the day did not keep me from thinking about what I was to do.

In some background mode.

Caught on this sharp gad.

The whole of today was about waiting for the reply.

A letter requesting clarification.

Nothing.

Empty mailbox.

At 19:00 I sat down in front of my Skype again.

And got that long-expected reply.

Nothing clear again.

Just tweaked familiar formulas.

Brrr.

(Saint Petersburg | Russia)

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Tere Tallinnast

This is Tallinna Bussijaam.

I am sitting and scribbling.

Waiting for our bus back home.

Yesterday we spent running around the objects to photo them before our Vilnius evening in the Greenhouse.

The last concert was a terrible bore.

This is what some start calling the “Soviet Union of Europe”.

If a chamber orchestra from Belgium wants to play in Vilnius, there is an unwritten ‘must’.

A curtsey towards the local art.

Like goode aulde Soviet LPs “Talented Music of Soviet Tajik Composers”.

And for musicians it is not just to sit down and play prima vista.

One should take time.

To learn and to rehearse.

One’s personal time.

The whole fuss with this Gaida festival for me was exclusively about Sofia Gubaidulina, Les Percussions de Strasbourg and Gérard Grisey.

Lithuanian composers simply show that they know how to stuff as much techniques into one score as it is possible.

But now I am sitting in the Tallinn Bus Station.

Tere hommikust.

(Tallinn | Estonia)

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Switching Years

Switiching years is always important to me.

It is the ending period of two months (roughly) when I end what I started and lay foundation to what will be done next.

Starting 18:00 October 27, 2014, I plunge into work, work, work.

Soon I will say “HNY”.

(Saint Petersburg | Russia)

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What I Learned in a Vilnius Gay Club

As we had to stick to our plan, we had to squeeze as much out of our weekend as it was possible.

The morning was spent on the Tauro Hill amidst coin grandads.

(Actually not only me, but K., too, adores flea markets.)

The next few hours were dedicated to finding a coat for K. and a new backpack for me.

Everything we had to that moment was totally worn out.

And shabby to shame.

Of course, a set of meat zepellins (not for me, sure), curds doughnuts and baltic carrots with peas followed.

We could hardly move afterwards.

The opening concert with Gubaidulina’s “Das Gastmahl während der Pest” (“Feast During the Plague”) was of a revealing shake-up.

We went to the same basement cafe after the concert. “Balti Drambliai” — highly recommended.

—So. Are we off to check out that Soho club in Švitrigailos street?

—Uhum.

“Wow, what’s that?”

The club’s basement entrance was hidden by higher balustrades.

In a building like a 5-storey krushchevka.

This was exactly how a Kaluga gay club would look like.

If the region suddenly became independent and an EU-member later.

We enter.

It is quite empty.

We start in English.

—What is the entrance price?

—Ten litas per person, — answers a blonde Lithuanian sweet cutie.

K. peeps into the hall and says in Russian:

—Пусто как-то. Никого, кроме милого барменчика. (Somewhat empty, no one except for a lovely barman.)

We suddenly hear the cute Lithuanian boy’s voice behind us:

—Вы просто рано пришли. Всё начинается где-то в два ночи. (You are a bit early. Usually everything starts around two in the morning.)

Not a whiff of an accent.

We are startled.

—Молодёжь в Вильнюсе всё же говорит по-русски? (Youngsters do speak Russian in Vilnius?)

The boy is smiling.

—В Вильнюсе все говорят по-русски. Даже те, кто не говорит. (Everyone in Vilnius speaks Russian. Even those who don’t.)

(Vilnius | Lithuania)

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Freezing Riga

Greetings from the freezing Riga.

Fark.

The Baltics in autumn is in no way Barcelona in May.

We are waiting for Ruta Freiberg to join us.

It is -6 C.

And I got no mittens.

Kim is going to work for a while.

He has some project to finish.

—You missed a dawn over Daugava, — says Kim.

What a tragedy.

It is eight a.m. local time.

Ruta is here.

We are off to photo for a couple of hours.

(Riga | Latvia)