Cool school days and those communist essays

(Rated R for profanity)

I'm missing university rummaging through essays written as journalism school assignments. Amazing how hard I worked then -- whether drinking or putting in hours of study/research -- now I'm a bum.

It was one crazy essay titled "The Dolly Folly" about cloning that made j-school a nightmare. I worded it like a funny Sun article; the lede was "Who would you like to reproduce with? Pamela Anderson? Cate Blanchett? Sorry, if you can't get the original, then try a duplicate – who maybe available elsewhere."

It ended with "I think cloning is not good. I wouldn't want a clone writing this essay or a clone teaching me this subject."

In the middle? Daft junk like this: ".. as genetics can help create an embryo out of a few tissues and cells, will the women need the men anymore? Women, who prefer to have the men, think "We say it in a joke that we don't need men, but it would be horrible if there weren't any." Right again.. sometimes newspapers can't do without men either."

The krusty old professor, expecting an academic essay, naturally didn't take a liking to the humorous twist: he almost ducked me on the subject. Asked him if I could rewrite the essay to improve the grade, and he said: "do they call it bhaago (run) in Hindi?" Boogie-woogied straight for the door.

That one stupid essay killed my overall j-school grades. (tbc)

Free Diver

Exploring the marine world is best done without scuba gear -- just take of deep breath and deep dive into the water. That came from "Free Diver," the best TV program I've seen in a long, long time. It aired on Animal Planet on Sunday.

It's peaceful and easy on the eyes, like Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind. You can sit there and watch it for hours hoping it never ends.

Free diving is the best way to interact with fish, said Tanya Streeter, a freediving champ who presents Free Diver. Scuba gear produces bubbles that distracts fish, making natural interaction difficult.

Free Diver has a lazy, idyllic feel to it; great jazz music plays in the background as Streeter dons flippers and a face-protector and frolics alongside turtles, whales, manatees, and other amazing mammals or birds underwater. She's like the Rambo of free divers, spotting and swimming with any marine life in her path.

The flippers and face protector made her look like another fish that attracted the curiousity of seals and penguins. Seals played catch with her underwater; Streeter instantly became a ring leader of a gang of penguins, who followed her wherever she went.

From Galapagos to the Turks and Caicos, she visits islands where the water is blue and the environment free of people. Life underwater seems so calm. If only we could slow down and be at peace with life like it is underwater...

And yes, free diving is an official sport! Without scuba gear, free divers hold their breath and take a free dip into the water. Whoever holds the longest breath and goes the deepest wins. Look out though, you never know where sharks are lurking, and timing needs to be impeccable. If you can't hold your breath for more than a minute, make sure you get up by then.

Streeter held her breath for 6 minutes and went 100+ meters deep into the water, both world records, according to her. In Free Diver, she'd come up, take a deep breath and go down again.

We're still human. A Galapagos turtle can hold its breath and stay underwater for 8 straight hours; iguanas for only a minute to chow on seaweed, the only thing they eat.

The program packs interesting information, though some questions remain unanswered. The penguin breed went unanswered in the Galapagos section, she just called them "tiny penguins," not a breed. They weren't King Penguins, so which ones were they?

It gets a bit self-indugent during the whale encore, but by that time, my mind is set: I want to free dive, for recreational purposes atleast. I never knew the possibilities that free diving opens up. Scuba diving or snorkelling doesn't even compare.

Which is now obsession: to free dive in the islands, if that's ever possible! It's time to hit my cousin's volleyball pool in Arizona to start training.

A lawyer for dessert

Putin doesn't know where to stop. The big Yukos bosses are already behind the slammer, and Putin has the massive oil company in his piggybank. He isn't happy with the desserts either.

An ex-Yukos lawyer will join her bosses and enjoy contraband in jail now. The recent sentencing of Svetlana Bakhmina, a Yukos lawyer, to seven years in prison on tax evasion charges is the latest in the Yukos gang crackdown. She may be released on compassionate grounds as she has two young boys to take care of.

On the face, living in a Russian jail might sound like a Poltergeist rerun, but it actually isn't that bad. The ex-Yukos chief Mikhail Khodorkovsky has his own cell phone, TV and other goodies in his cell, just like Al Capone did when he spent time in prison.

A smart guy given a cell phone? Sounds like a dumb idea, but Russian's wouldn't allow it unless they saw some benefit. It goes without saying that the phone is being tapped, and Khodorkovsky has to know about it.

This is all just naysay, thinking aloud. Maybe Putin is footing Khodorkovsky's phone bill to legalize his black market money.

Any other jail news? Oh yeah, apparently 40 goofy prisoners in a Russian jail revolted against the warden, demanding not guns, not vodka, but *women*. I mean, what about freedom? Has any Russian even heard that word?

So a deal was negotiatied and the revolution ended peacefully, with some demands of the prisoners being met. Yeah, right! No women; most of the 40 were shipped out to other jails.

Russian jails sound like fun. Make sure you visit one on your next trip there.

Supermarket frenzy -- paper or plastic?

Ever been jipped in a Russian supermarket? I was and it wasn't fun. On entering a huge supermarket in a central Russian city, I was asked to leave my backpack at the front desk as I couldn't take it in for security reasons.

Bought spaghetti, pasta, chai, checked out, got the backpack and walked home merrily. Checked it on reaching home -- my credit card was gone!

Stupidly enough, I left the credit card inside my backpack when I handed it over. How dumb can a person get?

Somebody was enjoying my credit card -- s/he perhaps bought a TV, video, and Pootie Tang by now-- and there was no Visa office next door I could call to get it cancelled.

Luckily enough, few stores in central Russia accept credit cards. Transactions are mainly cash-based and lots of bargaining takes place, even at the check-out counters of fixed-price supermarkets. Give Russians a chance to bargain, and they'll notch your skin for every penny.

Back at the store the next day, store employees reported seeing no credit card. A different guy from yesterday was seated at the baggage counter, and he asked me to visit the police. Basically, only if a policeman was your uncle or nephew would you get any results.

I reported the theft to the American Embassy, who provided the name of a policeman who was surprisingly nice and accomodating. He saw no way to solve the problem, saying I could've dropped it on the way home.

By that time, I called Visa in the US who cancelled the card and sent some emergency funds via Western Union. Visa couldn't dispatch a new card via snail mail because of Russia's unreliable postage system. I had my UK debit card so I asked them to avoid the godawesome expense of FedEx-ing a new card overnight.

Another dumb decision -- that bank account soon ran out of cash for some undisclosed "overdraft charges." Apparently the bank called up my dad and threatened him that if I didn't pony up the cash, they'd make sure I never got a loan again in the UK. What followed was even more eventful, but that's reserved for a few pints.

Otherwise, Russian supermarkets are great hang-out spots. They have loads of imported Italian pasta, broken shopping carts, Sri Lankan tea, bootleg CDs and replica Sony TVs. And they are heated. But that isn't attractive enough; most people prefer neighborhood stores within the block.

Russians buy most of the malako (milk), yitso (egg) from babushkas in corner stores or farmer markets, especially in the Caucasus and Urals.

Putting those babushkas out of business is the first thing Western retail chains want to do to succeed in the Russian market. Like how Wal-Mart got rid of mom and pop shops in the U.S. But their future is bright, shown by a recent string of acquisitions and expansions.

Russia has a version of Wal-Mart too, just born. This week, chains Pyaterochka and Perekriostok merged in a US$1.2 billion deal to create Russia's largest supermarket chain. And Metro, the German superstore operator, said it would open more stores in middle Russian cities (population 1 million or more, if I guessed correctly.)

But Metro is a German chain.

Germans carry their own bags to supermarkets as stores don't issue paper or plastic. Just like Whole Foods in San Francisco, which issues a $0.05 donation chip per bag you don't ask for.

Russians would instead cash in the donation chip to buy an additional jellybean. But that's why I love them: they play hard and rest for them means drinking Guava or Spaghetti Squash vodka.

30 worst pick-up lines

(Rated R for explicit content)

Apparently South India's Telugu language is the "Italian of the East." Sigh. What next? Cockney is the "Gujarati of the West?"

Resultant, there are some cheesy Telugu pickup lines, like "Are you from Italy?" or "you look Italian" or "you sound very Italian." When a friend hears one of those, her ears go sore for hours.

There are lousier pickup lines to be heard, according to a website, like:

- "I'm here. What were your other two wishes?"
- Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?
- Nice dress. Can I talk you out of it?
- That dress would look great - on my bedroom floor.
- I may not be Fred Flintstone but I could make your Bedrock
- I seem to have lost my telephone number, may I borrow yours?
- Get your coat, you've pulled.
- Here's 20p. Call your mum and tell her you won't be home tonight.
- If you think you'll regret it in the morning, we could sleep until afternoon.
- Is it hot in here or is it you?
- Does God know you've escaped from heaven?
- I think I've seen you on the cover of Playboy.
- I'm new around here. Could you direct me to your flat?
- If I could arrange the alphabet I would put U and I together.
- There's something wrong with my eyes - I can't taken them off you.
- I'd really like to see how you look when I'm naked.
- I wish you were a door so I could bang you all day.
- Do you sleep on your stomach or can I?
- You must be tired. You've been running through my mind all evening.
- What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this.
- You look like someone I know.
- Do you come here often?
- Drink up - you've pulled.
- How do you like your eggs in the morning?
- I feel like Richard Gere because I'm standing next to the Pretty Woman.
- You're great at fishing because you've caught me – hook, line and sinker.
- Bond. James Bond.
- You look so good I could drink your bath water.
- Are you free tonight, or will it cost me?
- If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?

(Apologies for the continuous Rated R stuff. I'll get back to talking Russia soon!)

Jill Carroll's back

This comes a bit late, but Jill Carroll is back, and she's already indulged in some Americana, streaking her hair purple and smiling at the discovery of freedom.

The big question is: Did the U.S. government broker a deal to get her released? Or did she work with the captors to get the freelance money CSM owed her? (kidding!!) We'll perhaps never get an answer, but my gut instinct says, yes, perhaps. Her family seemingly didn't have any cash, nor did the Christian Science Monitor, for which she wrote (and will perhaps write.) CSM has no option but to offer her another assignment.

Most print media organizations in general don't have any money, and the situation's getting worse every day. CSM couldn't have afforded the ransom money, so it has to be the US government.

Her twin sister pleaded for her release one day, and next day, voila, she popped out of nowhere. The back-to-back string of events is a bit mysterious, perhaps a sign of some cover up. That mystery will never be solved, so I'll just celebrate her return.

I checked for her updates everyday over the last few months -- new statements, pleas, or clues of her being found -- it seemed like a never ending saga.

As for her controversial statements, when anyone's head is under the gun, they'll say anything. It's a pressure situation.

So what's next for her? She seems to be enjoying the rest. But she's a writer and may be getting fat book offers. For now she's eligible for worker's compensation benefits, which means filling out forms and going through red tape.

The CSM folks say she won't be writing for them for now. I hope she writes a book.

She will, however, revisit Iraq, it's a lock. She belongs to a rare breed of journalists who don't let the past interfere with their future. International reporting requires guts, and she has loads of it. If she can fill out the worker's compensation forms, she can do anything.

But I'm better. My specialty is to cook up amazingly unreal stories. Guts? Plenty of it. Only when playing golf.