Back to the USSR

The summer is over, and what adventures has Belle Lulu been up to. The most recent discoveries of the summer are that the Russian women are so well maintained. When you see women dressed in prom dresses at 8 ‘O’ clock in the morning on the way to work, it puts British standards to shame. In spite of finding the men unappealing in most cases; a bout of unconsidered confidence resulted in finding one of the few men which saved Belle lulu from a 100% conversion from the bisexual to the lesbian. Then I would be leaving the readers of this site concerned, especially if I felt like cutting my hair very short and naming myself Jack in order to fit in. After all, Russian men, you don’t know how lucky you are boys! But then following a perfect weekend of classical concert, jazz and clubs, neither does Belle Lulu know how lucky she was. But I was glad to find my studious counterpart defeated by the need to party and finding the perfect companions to party with.

The result of my adventures is that I am relocating, or at least I hope so, for a year to Moscow. So now, I am left with ‘commuting’ if I want to come to London, and if I am keep up with the ‘real’ world. There are no doubts that living in Moscow leaves the rest of the world outside, I exist in a political and journalistic void. It is also so easy to become an unwitting criminal just for being a British or American citizen, as I found out one evening. Celebrating the end of a professional course I studied in Moscow, I went out with a group of mixed nationalities; including Russian, and we sat in the park. Our night nearly ended in a trip to the police station because some of the group did not have all their papers. It was a shame that the essence of police corruption, the need for bribes, which we did not give into, nearly spoilt the whole trip. Luckily, the group are able to laugh about it now and it actually succeeded in bringing our new friendship closer.

But what new adventures or trouble could I possibly find myself getting into for the future? Perhaps, you could be hearing about a new jazz act emerging out of Russia. Or a new Carrie Bradshaw for Moscow, the city is far more sexual than New York. If you don’t believe me, take a trip around the metro. There are more couples having adventures there, the idea of hotels for couples to visit like those in Buenos Aires just does not exist in Moscow. Telling them to get a room, is nigh impossible when prices can hit $1000 a night. But I cannot blame them; it is not high brow entertainment that comes first for this lady either. The only way I can think of causing some trouble is in my plans for keeping warm. I am sure it can get very cold if you go outside this winter.

A life in print

A few things from the last week have re-opened my relationship with books, and don’t laugh, but it is my longest serving relationship to date.  Even as a child, I used to ignore requests to go outside, preferring the wonders of worlds written on the page.  But following numerous years of studying, the relationship soured somewhat, and I turned to reading crap fashion magazines, because I could no longer bear the site of a serious book any more. But at the moment Belle Lulu no longer intends to stay put for very long and has to play property developer for a while before she can fulfil her dreams. So that means de-cluttering and starting to pack things away. One of the first things that is often stored in the attic is books and this is also where I started. It is silly to say this, but it was really difficult to decide which ones to choose. Obviously the sex books are not packed away, that was the first rule. Then away goes the study books, which is a real relief, but then the mass of books that are left; I feel an emotional attachment to.  Do I put Beckett in the box, when I went to Trinity College to buy the books on the play? How can I hideaway all my well thumbed and annotated novels? I am normally very decisive; this process took a long time and without rational thought in the end.

But however, I found myself nearly walking into a lamp post today reading a book, so I think my passion has returned, which can only make me smile. But this week, I also finally received my very own book. My name in print, it was so exciting to look at the spine of that book and to see my initials. So now you will be meeting an author, but I doubt the topic is anything but inspiring except to other academics.

The great illusion

I have received a few lessons in stereotypes of national behaviour recently, some of it positive and some negative. Although the negative lead to discovering the positive aspects of Italian culture. Needless to say with Russians, I have had to practise enough patience not to blow up. Whilst I can reveal I left due to serious employer misconduct, some of the behaviour I witnessed was just plain crazy. When you are told that some people have skills to rival Mozart, it takes all the comic timing you can muster to keep a straight face.

In turn, I learnt about Italian hospitality, which was supplied without question and gratefully received. I also learnt enough about Italian compliments and cultural differences in approaching women. I don’t think I have ever been approached whilst cycling ever before; I am not quite sure if it was an approach based on a forward personality, or taking a chance with pot luck. Lucky for me, I do not drink coffee, to everyones’ curiosity! I also managed to learn a few great swear words and how to travel around Italy with more weight in my luggage than my own weight. Must be all the pairs of stockings, I still need a lesson in travelling light.

But in spite of all the hard work travelling around, I managed to discover a few things. On the romantic view to life, I have a better clue of what life is about. Little pleasures should include listening to church bells and picnics on the hill overlooking mountains and villages. Even though I prefer the melodies of Austrian church bells, the thrusts of the Italian church bells can be just as powerful.

I have also learnt to be a bit more careful with crush material, and remember what a crush is supposed to be about. A crush is something you can never do anything about, and that is what makes a crush so entertaining, perfect material for reserved use. Reality does not quite match the crush ideals.

Taking care of Belle Lulu.

Taking care of me is a rather difficult thing to do, because I have to let you do it first.  I have the stubborn tendency, or so I have been told of not asking for help, a comment that pops up frequently. I am firstly a feisty and independent Scorpio and would never ask for help until I am desperate, and then not so accustomed to receiving help.  So, it is with a measure of anxiety that I headed to the hospital for a small procedure, but in the end it was not so bad at all. From the start to the finish, it was quite relaxing letting the nurses do a very good job taking care of me.  It is a bit strange answering a number of questions repeatedly by a number of random doctors and nurses. For the duration of the day I relaxed whilst everyone else catered to my needs. It was a fair compromise to give in, and my reward at the end of the day, jelly and ice cream, not to mature tastes, but after 12 hours of starving, I was as excited as a five year old.

Obviously, I am not the best person to ask for relaxation tips. So, what does Belle Lulu do when she is forced by the doctor’s orders to relax? She buys all her pregnant friends baby clothes (and survives becoming broody)and plans the next stage of her adventures; there is a bewildering array of choices at the moment, and again the issue of packing comes to mind, do I really have room for another pair of stockings?

April fools…I am a fool

I managed to find the worst possible reason to buy underwear yesterday.

A romantic liason perhaps, re-joined gymnastics? A date, to impress someone, a photoshoot even?

No, I forgot to pack underwear into my gym bag. It would be prefectly fine, if maybe I were going on a date, or trying to impress someone.
But I really thought that the person I was going to see would not be very impressed, so I had to buy underwear.

Luckily there were no other self made jokes for that day.