Carpetblogger

Ask Carpetblogger: What is Art?

As a noted Art Person, we’re unlikely pass up an opportunity to check out Moscow’s contemporary art scene. It’s even more unlikely that we would miss the chance to hang out with the Chiplomat, now Snackistan’s top envoy to the expanding Russian empire. Combining the two activities recently proved irresistible.

On sunny and not-that-cold-by-Moscow standards Sunday, we visited Winzavod, Moscow’s contribution to the trend of transforming old communist factories into contemporary art spaces. For two ladies who appreciate Soviet industrial architecture and who like to be confronted by modern Russian aesthetics, it seemed promising

Promise unrealized, sadly. Winzavod’s space has tons of potential but is poorly laid out, marked and signed. It was hard to know what was a gallery, or a private studio or a random shop. Indeed, there didn’t seem to be all that much actual art to view. “Where is the art?” we asked ourselves more than once, which is a bad sign when you’re at a contemporary art center.

 

We kept our minds open in case the art was subtle. We didn’t want to let our retrograde notions of what constitutes art, especially in Moscow, cause us to miss something good.

A bearded hipster bobbed away on a phallus-shaped children’s playground toy. Was he the art? A lady hipster duckfaced her friend’s camera from a concrete staircase. It’s probably on Instagram if you want to look for it.

A sign on a photography gallery warned that potential for offense lay ahead so those under 18 should stay away. Willing to take a chance, we climbed the stairs to the gallery. The warning was 100% correct in that photos of naked women holding cats in front of their crotches was considered art by someone. “So edgy!” we catted as we exited.

Subsequent galleries failed to evoke even that strong of a reaction.

A long steel stairway led up to what seemed like an attic area of one of the more satisfying exposed-brick spaces. Only the sign “Secret Education Center,” with another 18+ warning, indicated what was at the top.

Still open-minded, we climbed the stairway to a locked frosted glass door. A young man followed us. While we mucked around a bit on the landing, trying to figure out what, exactly, we were about to enter, he rang the bell. A female voice answered via intercom (in Russian, obviously):

“Do you have an appointment?”

Was “appointment” code for something art-related? We listened carefully for a clue.

“I do,” the man responded, “but I don’t know if these two women out here do.”

The door buzzed open. No one was visible inside and there was nothing but a reception desk, four or five closed doors and a large sign for Secret Education. A second young man entered behind the first, also mentioning his appointment.

Demonstrating the high degree of curiosity and initiative that has made her the most valued member of Snackistan’s diplomatic corps, the Chiplomat pulled up the website for Secret Education on her phone.

“It’s a sex education center!” she exclaimed with some surprise.

“Wait, what? Are you sure? It could be art, you know. It would for sure be better art than anything we’ve seen so far.”

“They give handjob lessons here, according to this site.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t seem like art to me. Who really needs.. ….”

Before considering this topic any further, we went back downstairs and outside into the cold sun. She squinted at her phone again, running through the list of classes you can take. If you read Russian, check for yourself what’s on offer. If not, rest assured that the curriculum is thorough, with all the core courses you would expect as well as plenty of electives.

And because you also expect from Carpetblog valuable cultural insight you can’t get anywhere else, our staff googled “Sex Coaching Moscow” and came up with this helpful article about the topic from last year. It should simultaneously entertain and horrify you.

So, when it comes to contemporary art in Moscow, if you have to ask where the art is, look, first, for the sex education center.

Carpetblogger Announces the End of Devushka Style

In a shocking announcement coming after a weekend visit to Moscow, the foremost chronicler of Devushka Style and the Wikipedia of Slutty Dressing, declared today that Devushka Style is dead.

"Given that photos of Devushkas continue to drive what little traffic this blog still enjoys, we don't make such a declaration lightly," Carpetblogger said in a statement. "An era has ended and we feel obligated to inform the readership: Stick a fork in it. Russian ladies have moved on."

Carpetblogger reports seeing more stunningly beautiful, stylishly-dressed women than classic Devushkas in Moscow. "It made us so sad. We looked around for some Zhigulis and Volgas and saw none of those either. Moscow has really changed a lot," she lamented. "If you have to argue with your friend if a lady is a Devushka or not, she just isn't."

Heels are still high, skirts are still short, bedazzling abused and animals embarrassed by the uses to which their prints and skins are put. These elements are no longer combined, however, with the ferocity and confidence of 2006, widely considered the peak of DS, according to Carpetblogger

Devushka watchers still can catch the end of the long Devushka tail in Omsk or Yekaterinberg, but style will be derivative, unoriginal and, like all hinterland trends, long past its prime. "Don't expect innovations in form, such as boots that become fishnets. Those were specific to a time and place and, like the most compelling ephemera, lost to memory until they return in the typical 20 year nostalgia cycle as irony," the blogger noted.

 

Carpetblogger speculates on why Devushka Style faded. "The ladies at the cutting edge 10 years ago have aged out of their leopardskin capris and their feet hurt too much to wear over-the-knee-stilettos anymore." Furthermore, like hipsters around the world, their successors prefer boring skinny jeans. "Devushka Style is another victim of globalization," she added.

 

Sad devuskha seeks solace from her fake Chanel bag

 

Carpetblog readers demand to know What Comes Next. How will Carpetblog adapt to changes in the marketplace of post-Soviet fashion? "If we thought our readers wanted to see photos of middle-aged devushkas grinding out a living as traders, hauling cheap clothes back to Moscow from Istanbul, we'd give them some." Traders are generally fed to excess on salo and sport short frosted-tip haircuts that add years to once-high slavic cheekbones. They're as much a type as their younger counterparts, but Carpetblogger questions their appeal. "We doubt there are quite as many message boards devoted to them as there are to Devushkas and we have SEO to think about."

 

Always one to see the glass as half-full, Carpetblogger still has faith in the region's pensioners. "They're like oak trees resisting the harsh winds of fashion. A good floral headscarf never goes out of style. They bring stability to an unpredictable world."

 

 

The Best $3.60 Bottle of Wine You Will Ever Drink

It's no secret that we have a poorly concealed ladycrush on Georgia. We have written about it frequently, so much so that some of our favorite Carpetblog posts were written in or about Georgia. We fail to understand why our adventure-seeking, sybaritic Istanbul contemporaries have not yet shelled out the $300 for the two-hour flight to Tbilisi for a weekend. Do they not know passport control officers give you a bottle of wine after they stamp your passport? We have often worried that, in a haze of propagandizing, we have oversold the place. This has never happened. After a decade of living and travelling around the world, Georgia remains our favorite country, full stop, and everyone who has surrendered to our pleas to go agrees.

We just spent five days there, celebrating the fourth-annual Thanksgiving throwdown -- always a highlight of our year. After the turkey funk wears off, we try to do something somewhat adventurous. One year we visited the village of Sighnaghi, another year we cluelessly watched Georgia stomp the US in rugby, last year we went to the high Caucasus village of Gudauri. Each activity usually shares in common excessive consumption of food, wine and/or chacha. Things were a bit tamer than normal this year, mostly because key rogue elements stayed home.

Alaverdi Monastery

We headed out to the Schuchmann winery in the Kakheti wine region. This was the first time we'd been out to this eastern Georgia valley, which is crammed up right to the base of the snow-dusted Caucasus, a view we've come to love and miss.

Overall, the German-owned lodge and restaurant were a bit disappointing. They were well-appointed but with service so sweetly incompetent that we commented "What this place needs is some Turks to whip it into shape." Thse are neither words we frequently say nor words Germans want to hear, but Turks can usually run a hotel pretty well.

 But let's talk about the important thing: the quality of Schuchmann's wine, which was fantastic. We didn't get the tour we'd hoped for but we tried a variety of their wines, both European- style (aged in steel vats) and Kakhetian-style (aged in underground ceramic pots called Qvevri). We didn't much care for a traditional white called Kisi which tasted like it had gone off but apparently, we were told, it's supposed to taste like that. We much preferred the European-style 2008 Saperavi, the cabernet-like red for which Georgia is best known. They also have a 2008 Saperavi, but aged in Qvevri. We might have tried it. It can be hard to keep track.

Old Qvevri

Sometimes, after drinking a lot of wine, we worry that our judgment gets impaired --  there's plenty of hard data to suggest this is more than a vague perception -- and that the wine we've drunk a lot of isn't quite as good as it was on that cold night in front of a fire at the foot of the Caucasus with a friend.

The next morning, these residual warm feelings drove us to buy six bottles of the European-style Saperavi. The possiblity that we could be making a mistake occured to us. But, and here's the rub, it was only 6 Lari ($3.60) per bottle*. We figured it was low risk investment and it's not like it could be any worse than a 25 TL ($14) bottle of Turkish.

This, officially, is our favorite cheap wine, possibly ever. We served it at dinner last night with a bit of trepidation given our clouded judgment that night. The reaction was strongly positive. We concluded that it is actually too good to serve to the common riffraff who typically dine chez Carpetblogger.

So this is what we suggest: Germans at Schuchmann, bring in some Turks in to clean up the service at the hotel/restaurant so it justifies the rather steep rate. In exchange, teach the Turks how to make a decent wine. This is a win-win situation. We are happy to facilitate.

 

 *That's the price at the winery with a tax-free card. It was 8 Lari without the card and 10 Lari ($6) in the supermarket in center Tbilisi. This a deal at all those prices. The 2008 Khakheti-style Saperavi was 30 Lari ($18) at the winery. The labor-intensive Qvevri aging explains the substantially higher price. We can't recall trying it so can't comment on whether it's worth it. It probably is.

Good News! Georgian in Istanbul!

Were you as sad as we were to hear that Cafe Euro, the only source of legitimate Georgian food in Istanbul, had closed? Well, little girl, stop your sobbing and get yourself back to the bus station in Aksaray. There's Khingali to be had!

 

 

Prices in Lari?

 

The brand formerly known as Istanbul Eats, Istanbul Culinary Backstreets, broke the news about Cafe Niko, located a stone's throw from the late Cafe Euro.  We agree with everything they say. Owner and Batumi native Beso is chatty and friendly, the khingali is the bomb and -- wait for it -- there is real pork meat. He serves all your favorites: Khachapuri (adjarian and imrelian), khingali, swine shashlyk (baked with onions, not grilled) and lobio (sadly, out when we went). He predicts a real bounty in October, when he starts serving kupati, homemade pickles and xaş (bone and tripe soup that you'll just LOVE).

 

Domuz Doğru

 

Every ingredient, except the potatoes, flour and onions, comes from Georgia. There's no Georgian wine -- sad face! -- because Beso's homemade wine doesn't travel well. Beso is, however, a chacha usta and his homebrew, served in recycled plastic water bottles, is smoother than you'd expect. He attributes this to the wood charcoal filtering process he uses.

 

 

Let the chacha flow freely!

Beso has grand expansion visions. He's clearly a man whose ambitions will not be confined by a crappy bus station in Istanbul. At 20 TL/pp for a full meal of Georgian gloriousness, however, a lot of us will have to devour a lot of khingali to provide him with the capital he needs to grow.

We do feel a professional obligation to issue a few words of warning about Cafe Niko. If you thought Cafe Euro was a bit too chi-chi, you'll love Cafe Niko's earthiness. The kitchen looked mostly clean-ish but the astro-turfed terrace, while pleasant on a late summer evening, is, uh, gritty. You might want to leave your high maintenance friends and visitors at home. The crowd looks rough but friendly so unaccompanied ladies might not feel super comfortable. Also, if you don't speak Georgian, Russian or know Georgian food, you might have to take what you get (the menu is only in Georgian but Beso speaks a few words of English). Turkish isn't going to help, either.  But wanting what you get is the key to expat happiness, right? What's the worst that can happen?* You eat something delicious you've never had before? 

Cafe Niko: Carpetblog Stamp of Approval. 

*the worst that can happen is that you go after 8 pm or on Sunday, when Cafe Niko is closed.

 

 

Address: Emniyet Otogarı (bus station), Küçük Langa Caddesi 190, Aksaray

(Go 20 meters after walking through the gates of Emniyet bus station, then look left and you’ll see the balcony of Café Niko above Emniyet Café.)

Note that this is NOT the main otogar in Ensenler. It's in the middle of Aksaray. Yes, there is a bus station there. 

 

 

 

Carpetblogger Ponders Advances in Soviet-Era Technology

While in Tbilisi for the annual post-Soviet Thanksgiving bacchanalia, we ran across something in a friend's apartment building that we have never seen before: a pay elevator.

We are the first to admit that, as a resident of a fourth-floor walk up, we have elevator envy. Envy became self-loathing as we carried 50 lbs of Georgian wine and pork up those stairs last night. We're always in the market for new ideas when it comes to mechanical ascension techniques.

The pay elevator, however, has some pros and cons. Borko, ever the Reagan-era free-marketeer, praised it as a market-oriented solution to the vexing problem of elevator maintenance in buildings where no one is obligated to pay for upkeep of common areas. We agree!

However, this elevator charged 1 Tetri (about one penny) per ride. We're not very good at math, but if a six-floor building has 2-3 apartments on each floor, we're not convinced the economics of the idea work out. We also failed Reagan-era economics so maybe we're missing something.

Furthermore, nothing about the elevator suggested that its upkeep was anyone's priority. Maybe the proceeds from the box funded the upkeep of the elevator repairer's vodka supply.

Perhaps a pay box in the elevator acts as a potential barrier to entry to never-do-wells. But who is more likely to carry around a pocketful of 1 Tetri coins? A never-do-well or Carpetblogger? We would probably walk up four flights of stairs just as often as we do without any elevator at all, if using it was contingent on having a 1 Tetri coin in our pocket.

So, the debate on the pay elevator has yet to be settled. But when we saw it, we said, "finally, we're home." Gone from the FSU for too long.

 

 

Carpetblog Weighs in: Georgian Food in Istanbul at Cafe Euro

You've heard the old saying about dining in Istanbul -- "There's all kinds of cuisine here as long as it's Turkish." Perhaps you've argued that Istanbul is the biggest city in the world without a real Pakistani restaurant. People come to Istanbul for a lot of reasons -- many of them good -- but not for its selection of international food.

So, when we read a FB post by the writer of the lovely Delicious Istanbul blog about Cafe Euro's Georgian food, we got our hopes up, just a little. She appears to be of some FSU provenance -- not sure which, don't want to offend! -- so we viewed her as credible. And, that the restaurant is located in Aksaray -- which is known locally as Devushkastan --suggested that there is a built-in clientele who knows their satsivi from their tkemali.

Georgians are sort of like Soviet Mexicans. They moved around and set up restaurants all over the Soviet Union to serve their hungry workers needing a taste of home. Every FSU resident we've ever met craves the occasional Georgian meal, even if they've never been to Tbilisi. Georgian food, like Georgia, is unlike anything found anywhere else in the world. We have long moaned about the lack of the real thing in Istanbul. Georgia is so close! Why can't you get a Borjomi and a decent khingali here?

After reading DI's post, we put on our devushka boots and gathered up the famous but also charming Rutherford/Tomasetti Partners and plotted a route into the dark heart of Aksaray. Did you know there is a giant bus station right there in the middle of it that serves exclusively the Caucasus, Russia, Romania and Moldova? We had no idea. There must be a lot of workers coming to Turkey from those countries! What sort of work they do here do you think? Globalization is awesome.

And there it was, Cafe Euro, with Georgia's UFO-script and photos of khingali on the outside walls, conferring a legitimacy that could not be faked. We were so excited. We stepped down into its dark bowels and felt like we had stepped into a bus station in Batumi. Cheap cafe decor in Turkey is white molded plastic chairs. In Georgia, and Cafe Euro, it's rickety metal-backed chairs with pleather seats. It's also bleached hair, cigarettes and drunken dancing to Russian pop at 7 pm. We were home.

We have found that the only time we can speak Turkish is when we want to speak another language in which we know 50 words, like Russian. The waitress, who was Georgian, got excited by our efforts and, in violation of traditional food service norms in her homeland, became super friendly and helpful. Sadly, 7 pm is not the hour to go if you want lobio or khinghali. The only things available were khachapuri (yay!) and kebab (less yay). We speculate that if you want access to the full menu (keeping in mind there is no menu), you need to come when the buses are arriving or departing.

We ordered up some Adjarian (the kind with an egg, and not our favorite, but it will do if a Minghrelian is not available). It was fine but we really wanted khingali, particularly since we had talked it up to the RT Partners, who had never had Georgian before. And there was Efes, not Kazbegi. A real Russian speaker might have been able to rustle up some homemade wine or even some chacha, according to Istanbul Eats (which, consume at your own risk).

Our review: Hopes still high, we're going to go back at a different time. Georgian in Istanbul deserves all the support we can give it.

Cafe Euro is at the entrance to the heretofore unknown to Carpetblog giant bus station in Aksaray, on Kucuk Langa Cad.

 

 

This Just In: Scotland Reacts to Azeri Whisky Onslaught

SPEYSIDE-- Scottish whisky producers reacted switfly to news that Azerbaijan, known primarily as  the oasis between Iran and Chechnya, plans to begin distributing locally-produced whisky from the famed Tovuz-Baltiya distillery.

Presently, Tovuz-Baltiya is known primarily for its cognacs, which have been described by local experts as "the best in Ganja-Qazakh."

"We know that Muslims in general are known for the quality of their alcoholic beverages, and Azerbaijan, in particular, is noted for the "Seven Beauties" and "Karavansary" wine labels," said Scottish whisky spokesman William MacDougal. "We view this as a serious threat to our market share."

Recent reports claim the Azerbaijani distillery is going to target whisky drinkers in India and eastern Europe, where "they really know their single from their blended malts," said MacDougal.

Scottish whisky producers have adapted quickly to this shift in the marketplace. MacDougal, having recently travelled on Azal from London to Baku, added "peat and oak have become dated. We're exploring assfat and naptha, just to stay competitive."

 

 

A Conversation About Buying a Suit in the FSU

It only took a short visit to Tbilisi -- our first trip back to the FSU in a year -- to make us realize that the FSU is our creative homeland. We have DOZENS (well, ok, four or five) posts ready to go in our head that were inspired by actual events over a long Thanksgiving weekend.

Maybe Turkey isn't as hilarious or maybe long-term Turkey expats aren't as entertaining as those who have been wintering in Kyiv for a half dozen years or more, but holy crap, we have a rich vein of ridiculousness.

Anyway! Let's get down to it.

We sat down with Borko of Nenand's Murse, an up-and-coming blog that explains things about Europe that Americans don't understand. And to be clear, Borko uses the Eurovision definition of "Europe," which pretty much includes Kazakhstan. Eurovision, of which Borko is a world-reknown expert, sets the gold standard, other than soccer, for things about Europe that Americans don't understand (American seven year-olds understand soccer, though. No one understands Eurovision).

Borko has been living in the FSU almost since it was the regular kind of SU, and believe you me, you can tell.  Here's a transcript of a conversation, which took place at an outside table at a bar in Tbilisi's Old City. Alcohol *may* have been a factor, but it was after 11am, so no flag on the play.

Borko (B):  "I bought two Hugo Boss suits in Kyiv, but I noticed a tag on the sleeve that said "Made in Bulgaria." I had to rip it off right away. I can't believe I bought a suit made in Bulgaria."

Carpetblogger (CB): "Did you notice anything else wrong with the suit?"

B: "No, why?"

CB:  "How shiny was it?"

B: "It wasn't shiny at all! It's Hugo Boss."

CB: "Right. My bad. Hugo Boss became the favored brand of oligarchs from Donetsk, taxi drivers from Batumi and gangsters from Varna by skimping on the shine."

B: "You're wrong, CB! Hugo Boss is a very stylish brand for suits."

We mulled the statement for a moment, thinking of recent insecurity experienced while shopping for skirts to wear to Paris. "Is this stylish or retarded?" went through our head, after it occurred to us that we have no idea what 40+ year old consultants whose "work" wardrobe consists primarily of yoga pants wear in "business situations" in normal countries.

But maybe we have more self-awareness than Borko. We think that making a bad shopping choice in Crapistan could be like, in 1985, wearing the JC Penny's galloping horse on your Catholic school uniform polo shirt -- rather than the real polo player -- only you wouldn't be painfully, horribly aware that what you're wearing wasn't quite right in subtle but important ways. Borko trotting around in a suit with a bit too much shine not only would not know that people were silently mocking him ("Where's he from? Kharkiv?") he would think they were admiring him and walk about with the confidence of someone who is tres a la mode.

Sure, tres a la mode in Minsk. (Do you not remember the principles of FSU fashion?)

CB: "Has anyone who doesn't live in the FSU examined that suit for shine?"

B: "No! It doesn't make any difference! Besides, I paid $600 for two suits. They're not shiny."

CB: "Oh, I think it makes a difference. Did you buy shoes to go with it?"

B (getting increasingly agitated at the direction the conversation): "NOT SHINY."

CB: "OK, I believe you. They wouldn't make anything shiny in Bulgaria."

We decided that Borko was in too deep and wasn't going to arrive at the correct conclusion without some assistance.  If we didn't take action, he was going to wear that Bulgarian Hugo Boss on K Street in Washington DC. While we would find that personally entertaining, we decided to graphically present his choices using a tool we knew he'd understand.

A scatter graph!

Even after this, Borko fought and fought, and even revisited the topic later in the weekend ("Brown suits can't be shiny!" ORILY?) but we knew the battle had been won.

We received an SMS tonight: "OK, there might be the slightest sheen on my Bulgarian "Hugo Boss" suit."

Carpetblogger offers fashion consultations for long-term FSU residents. Hourly rates apply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Update on THY "Wrong Runway Landing Pilot"

Newsflash!

Thanks to astute, Turkish-reading Short Blonde Neighbor, the "wrong runway landing" pilot has resigned, ostensibly because of withering mockery from this blog. Our Turkish isn't that great but we're pretty sure we're credited in that story.

Also, according to the unimpeachably accurate Trend News, "Reasons of this landing were connected with the pilot's mistake. The evacuated passengers are interested in this case and intend to file a suit to compensate a moral damage."

Carpetblogger is still standing by to negotiate on behalf of the morally damaged Kathmandu Correspondent. We'll aim much, much higher than the five kupati she might otherwise deserve due to pre-existing damage.

As big fans as we are are post-Soviet conspiracy theories, we're not buying rumors that the plane was filled with Ukrainian special forces (CKC says the plane was half full, mostly of Israeli tourists) or the former interior minister, with whom the government wanted to consult. They totally would have used AeroSvit for that mission then promoted the pilot.