The Last Ditch

OTT or what?

The Last Ditch is not going to become a food blog. You should still look to Sicily Scene and others for your culinary fix. However, I thought this photo of a few spoonfuls of granita served in a tower of ice might amuse you. Bruno Oger's presentation of food is certainly imaginative. The tower is hollow, about the size of a piece of drainpipe and is illuminated by an LED standing on the plate beneath it. It looked impressive when eight of them were carried in procession to our table last night. If you get the chance to sample M. Oger's food, I recommend you seize it.

The state can do no wrong

The naked truth: TSA can touch my junk anytime | Comment is free | guardian.co.uk.

Of course (except in the eyes of Guardian journalists) it can and often does. In some fields in fact, it does little else. But if it wants to do something that would be wrong for any of us, it has an option we don't; i.e. to change the law to make it right.

The Guardian, of course, sees any argument that there is a limit to state power as "unsafe right-wing ideology." No doubt the author of the linked piece would have argued that the girls raped by Beria as part of the infamous "flower game" were unsafe right wingers too. They were certainly unsafe. As they were too terrified of the Cheka to speak, I guess we shall never know if they would otherwise have indulged in

          ...teenage grudge-bearing and solipsistic whining...

For some time I have been avoiding German airports because that, in many ways laudable, nation rather lacks the physical reserve of the Anglo-Saxon world. Airport security searches in the country of "Freikörperkultur," are noticeably more invasive. Junk-touching was already no biggy. Now it seems that approach is spreading.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
It is ridiculous to tell us this is for our own safety. Throughout the post-9/11 era, the security hassle for passengers checking baggage has been steadily increasing. But freight has been loaded into the same holds without routine screening.  Why would even a crazed fanatic brave airport security if  he can simply courier his bomb?

Even if the freight hold was not potentially full of explosives, it is a bad joke to subject to searches every flyer (including the pilot who needs no suicide weapon beyond his plane), toddlers and regular (easily cleared in advance) travelers. Perhaps it is conceivable that some parent might be a vile enough fanatic to shove explosives into his toddler's body cavities and blow him to Allah (though I can't help feeling that's a greater slur on Muslims than any Danish cartoon). It's a lot more likely that simple risk profiling could ensure there was rarely, if ever, a need to frighten small children by having strangers touch them inappropriately.

Finally, has anyone considered the turnover rate in these low prestige, low pay jobs? Pretty soon everyone touching your junk will have been hired since the practice was legitimised. As the article said, the present security staff have no interest in groping genitalia. Give that a couple of years, during which only people with such in interest will have applied, and things will be different.

Smoking on motorbikes

Continuing my theme of distentangling honest-to-Stalin Leftism from good old-fashioned British Puritanism, I was looking for an image to illustrate something Mrs P. and I noticed yesterday. Out on the town in Shanghai, we saw many motorcyclists riding (legally) without helmets and smoking en route.

Oddly enough, I couldn't find a suitable photo, but I did find these.

 

Let the debate between outraged statists and on-the-back-foot libertarians begin.

h/t Videogum and  DJ Mick

Literacy on the streets of Vancouver

The message is correct and polite. There are no childish symbols, because you are assumed to be literate. In this case, there is an easy expectation that you know what an "expansion joint" is. I get simple pleasure from North American signage. I do wonder why the sign is so temporary, when the expansion joint is so permanent though.

I didn't take a photograph but another Canadian sign I saw was rather amusing. Over the urinals at the Vancouver Convention Center are stickers warning (in polite, good English and - thank goodness - again without illustrations) that the water used to flush them is recycled and unfit for drinking. Hmm.

Beggars in Canada are also polite and articulate. As I had a pocket full of coins that would only otherwise rattle around in a drawer for years I handed them to a chap who asked gently for the price of a coffee. His thanks were brief, sincere and accompanied by best wishes to me and my family.

Thanks to British Airways (an airline I have told my secretary never to book me on when there is a reasonable alternative) I have an extra few hours in Vancouver. Had I known, I could have gone for a walk, rather than wasting time in the departure lounge. I can already feel British mediocrity reaching out to me across the width of one continent and one ocean. How sad.

Vancouver

I have been wearing a groove between certain exotic places for some time and it's been a while since I visited a new city. This one has that eerie instant familiarity of all cities founded or influenced by our energetic ancestors, but the fun is always in finding what differentiates a place. I am looking forward to getting to know Vancouver slightly in the next couple of days.

BA commits suicide slowly

FT.com / UK / Business - Union warns BA of fresh strike action.

BA has been on my "no fly" list for some years, because of its unique combination of surly service by dowdy staff in shabby aeroplanes from dirty terminals. It is a sort of airborne metaphor for modern Britain.

However its management won brownie points with me today. I glumly realised when I checked my tickets that the first leg of my journey home was with the stricken national carrier. The usual glossy bilge on its website has been replaced with a fast, simple page into which you type your flight number for instant information. Given the pasting their servers must be taking, this was one point to BA management. They earned another because they had transferred the job of transporting me to Paris to FlyBe, a budget operator. I am dreading the unaccustomed in-flight experience, but at least I am flying. Well done BA, the successful strike-breakers.

FlyBe certainly made no effort to steal me as a customer. Perhaps that was part of the deal? The blonde muppet behind the desk had a voice that could only be accounted for by the inhalation of helium. Her make up was heavy enough to cause structural damage to her slight teenage limbs. Her gaze was hand blown in Murano. Despite my cheery explanation of my travel plans, she checked my bags only to Paris. I spotted this and reminded her to check them through to Shanghai. She said that wasn't possible - and hit the button. I held the bags back to stop them disappearing and trotted off to reason with "customer service".

As you know, dear reader, any organisation which regards "customer service" as something reserved to a specialised unit is in trouble. After all, if not to serve its customers, what are all the other employees for?

After a little "reasoning" with the "customer servants", my bags are Shanghai-bound. However FlyBe's entente with Air France is insufficiently cordial to allow it to issue a boarding pass for the next leg. I shall have to check in again at Charles de Gaulle. Not to worry. I set off to relax in the BA Lounge (and get at least some value for my Business Class ticket). The BA lady guarding the dark empty space banished me, pointing to my FlyBe ticket. Was she secretly atoning for her decision to scab? Perhaps. I mentally deducted one brownie point for needlessly squandering my goodwill.

BA may not survive this strike. Despite its management's valiant efforts it doesn't really deserve to. If it wanted to win me back, it would need to take the rare legal opportunity offered by the strike to purge its ground and cabin crews. Even the UK's employment laws permit this, as long as all strikers are fired without exception. But why would it need to pick and choose? The strikers have self-selected themselves as the least desirable employees.

Go for it, guys. There are more points to play for.

So much for free movement of goods and labour

FT.com / Europe - Poles returning home face car trouble.

As a lover of Poland who lived there for 11 years, I know something about this story. I used to have a right-hand drive car in Warsaw. I drove it from England in 1992 and used it for 8 of the 11 years I lived there. I drove my family all over the country safely and pleasurably. The car was foreign-registered and insured throughout. She left the country frequently enough for that not to be an issue, but I always thought it ridiculous that it was not possible to register her locally.

Poland has an appalling record on road safety. The fatality rate is four times that of Britain and double that of Germany. The worst death toll is on the weekend of the All Saints holiday, when Poles visit the graves of their dead to keep a candle-light vigil. This is a social, as well as a religious, event that involves much sitting on gravestones drinking vodka. If a given family has dead relatives in more than one city, it also involves a motorised dash from one graveyard to the other in the depths of the Polish Winter. All too frequently, that ends in tears.

Poor roads, poorly-maintained cars, lots of winter snow and ice and an aggressive driving culture account for the rest of the accidents. I have often remarked to Polish friends that they must be very good Catholics indeed as they drive as if in a hurry to the afterlife. Right-hand drive cars are certainly not a factor in many accidents. Poland's auto-routes and urban free-ways (sensibly, in my view) permit overtaking on both sides. So I was safer than the other drivers for more than half the time as (guess what) I usually chose the side to overtake on which I had better visibility. When not on such a road, my driving position was only a problem to me, as I had fewer opportunities to overtake. Perhaps the Polish judges can't imagine not overtaking, regardless of safety? Probably so, as in my experience the standard of driving among Polish lawyers was no higher.

Britain, of course, has no problem with thousands of migrant-labourer Poles driving their left-hand drive cars around our islands. So much for fairness. As between nations, reciprocity is surely the least one can hope for. Though I am not holding my breath for Muslim countries to take as liberal an approach to the building of Christian churches as, say, Switzerland to the building of mosques.

Like most legal restrictions, this is small-minded busy-bodying dressed up as concern for public safety. Having watched Poland enact hundreds of legal reforms to prepare for EU accession (the only time in my life I saw the EU do any good), I am sad to note that it has already (as I predicted to my Polish friends a decade ago) begun to approach EU law as the French do; cynically and selectively.
 
Photo credit: VirtualTourist.com

On the road again

I and my worldly goods are on the road. We shall not be reunited for a long time. The movers in Russia need a copy of my work permit for China before they can despatch them, which will take months to arrange.This small matter seems to have been overlooked by my colleagues in charge of logistics.

Fortunately, the apartment in Shanghai is fully-furnished and the landlords have agreed to leave their stuff there until mine arrives. Still, it will be odd to think of Mrs Paine's and my belongings (especially our small but treasured art collection) languishing in a Russian warehouse long after I have left the country. It's all insured, but if I had wanted the money rather than the objects, I wouldn't have bought them.

I had two wonderful farewell parties in Moscow; one with my clients and one with my team. My colleagues gave me a magnificent gift; a movie they hired a professional production company to make at our offices - starring them. It's witty, warm and parodies peoples perceptions of Russia, while making various references to my own quirks. They premiered it at the client party last Tuesday night and presented me with a signed shooting script (in Russian), one of the costumes and a brilliant book of production photographs. I have been showing it to everyone I can. It's brilliant and made an amazing, highly personal gift. I was (and am) very touched.

The following night, we had a final drink at a Moscow bar and a wonderful time was had by all; certainly by me. I have great photographs that I will treasure all my life. I shall miss Moscow and my Russian friends; they have great style and are very kind and thoughtful when it comes to such occasions. Despite its reputation, "the Slavic Soul" is not all dark; trust me. If you have a Russian friend, you have a real friend. I am a lucky man and shall study deserving. Certainly, while aware she too has her quirks, I shall always speak in Mother Russia's defence when she is defamed by the ignorant.

For now, I am in England for some work but - more importantly - to celebrate Mrs P's birthday with the Misses P in London. We are all theatre lovers, so our celebration revolves around Le Misanthrope, with Keira Knightley, at The Comedy Theatre on Tuesday night. On Wednesday, bright and early, I shall haul my own age in kilos of luggage to Heathrow. I shall attend a meeting of my China board in Amsterdam before continuing on to Shanghai and new adventure.

I shall raise the new masthead of The Last Ditch then, with my first post from the Middle Kingdom. In the meantime, posting will continue to be light.

Tom's day of heavenly peace

[Click on pictures to enlarge]

It has been a strange week. A few meetings in Beijing, but mainly I have been on conference calls with Europe, lasting - because of the time difference - into the late evening. It has been oddly tiring, although not unusually busy. Today, however, was reserved for leisure. I can't visit a new place without some exploration.

Fairly strenuous it proved to be as I walked around the city for five hours. At several points, I paused to reflect how lucky I am to have such a life; to have the chance to visit the far-off places I dreamed of as a boy. My whole family has lived in one square mile of what is now Wales, probably, since prehistory. It seems to be my destiny to improve our averages when it comes to travel.

The Forbidden City was not quite what I expected. Yes, it's huge and impressive and oozes history. Yet it also feels rather sad. It's as if the Emperor had just walked away and no-one had quite decided what to do with it. Renovation of such a complex must be a huge burden. It covers 7.8 million square feet and comprises 980 buildings. It is a city within a city. A city that feels, in parts, abandoned and neglected. Some structures are quite dilapidated, although crews were working on others. The task of maintenance is eternal. While it's a "World Heritage Site" and rightly so, I can't help feeling it would be better put to use. Such wonderful spaces should be occupied and enjoyed, not just gawped at by the likes of me. The occupants would also pick up on minor repairs that would otherwise become major while waiting for scheduled maintenance.

It was crowded, particularly at entrance and exit where I was pressed closer to a mass of strangers than any Englishman can well endure (yet without ever feeling in danger, or worrying about my wallet). After a while, the masses de-merged into family groups and I could observe the Chinese at leisure. My main impression was of extended families. I saw some old people so thin and drawn that it was hard to believe they were mobile. Yet they were cheerfully led, or pushed around by their families and looked happy in their company. The welfare state in Britain has destroyed so much. Such skeletal specimens would be in a "home", out of sight and out of mind. Here they cheerfully chatted to the family's infants, who seemed completely relaxed (as they should be) in the company of the old and frail.

Basking happily in the bright sunshine in their leisure wear, many Chinese wore English slogans. I never understand why our language has such glamour for strangers. Apart from the usual brand names (paid for or otherwise) there were random English words. One lady had "Praisworthy" (sic) emblazoned on her blouse. I don't know why our scruffy leisure costume has been adopted at all. Traditional Chinese clothes are so much more attractive, but I only saw a few people - usually very old - wearing them. Even most of the very elderly sported trainers and jeans. I noticed the cheap and brightly coloured baseball hats handed out by tour organisers so they can recognise their flock in crowds were lined with the attractive check that Burberry has now pretty much had to abandon, so "common" has it become.

Tienanmen Square (天安门广场) did not disappoint although, as my Chinese teacher in Moscow had warned me, the full visual effect of its vastness (440,000 square metres!) has been diminished by the erection of Mao Zedong's mausoleum in the centre. In the short film I have posted, the mausoleum is behind me and you are only seeing half, perhaps less, of the full square. As a young teenage Maoist I had dreamed of joining the Red Guards there to see the Great Helmsman in person. I sat to reflect for a while and chuckled at the idiocy of youth.

The only blights on the day were the street vendors and other sharks in the tourist pond. The first couple, claiming to be art students, talked me into viewing an "exhibition" of their works. They proved to be mere flimflam men for vendors of cheap tourist tat. Another "student" tried the same script minutes later but got even shorter shrift. A motorcycle rickshaw driver tried to charge me more than 10 times the most expensive taxi fare I have paid in China. I paid him a mere 4 times and threatened (bluffing) to call the police if he didn't get lost. A passerby laughed and said "the police will want money too", but he backed off. This was entertaining enough in its way, but sad in its effects. I spent the day avoiding engagement with other people, when I could have practised my Chinese more.

I would probably have bought something today, if not constantly wary of being tricked. I am sure such people damage a tourist economy far more than the benefit they gain themselves. If you spend 60 years telling people that capitalism is theft, however, and then tell them to be capitalists, it's not entirely surprising.

Despite that, all in all, it was a great and highly memorable afternoon. I have saved the Great Wall and much more for future trips. Tomorrow, I fly to Shanghai for two more weeks of work before returning to Moscow to tidy up my affairs and hand over my practice to my colleagues and friends before moving permanently to China.

At my advanced age, it's a wonderful thing to have a great adventure ahead - and so much more to explore.

Chez Madame Mao

钓鱼台国宾馆.

The best part of forty years ago, denouncing the Gang of Four as a fervent young Maoist, I could never have imagined that I would ever spend the day in Jian Qing's (Madame Mao's) then home. It's a beautiful place. I slipped away to take a business conference call on my mobile from a pavilion on the lake and smiled as I worked to the sound of fountains and rustling willow trees. Sometimes, I feel like a very lucky man. I will post a photo of the pavilion later [now added]. The free wi-fi here lacks the bandwidth to upload it, but I want the honour of being (probably) the first person to blog from here.

The "economic forum" I am attending was supposed to be graced by the presence of the Russian and Chinese Prime Ministers. I was particularly keen to see Mr Putin, having missed out on seeing him in person on a previous occasion. I agreed to speak at a seminar in Moscow a few years ago when he was President, because he was due to speak before me, but he sent his deputy instead. That gentlemen gave a fascinating speech but was not - with all due respect - such a significant historical figure. Sadly "VVP" eluded me again today. He and his counterpart were in the building, but did their signing ceremony away from the rest of us. I was not prepared to lower myself to dashing around the back to watch him drive away so I have still not seen him gig live, as it were.

All in all, a fascinating day though. Watching Russians and Chinese do business at the State level is very interesting. Sadly, their speeches are uniformly worthy and dull. There was not a spark of humour all day and I now understand the disapproving glances I have received over the last six years when joking my way through speeches in Russia. They are as serious, when the occasion demands, as they are fun when it doesn't. Nonetheless, had I either language to a useful standard, I would have been tempted to have a go myself.