I have to claim full poetic license on this one I’m afraid. For it is rude, vulgar and dirty. But it’s only yet another literary style, which can also be ever so entertaining.

SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER

Put your hand down my trousers
You dirty old bitch
Grab me tight with your fingers
You nasty black witch

Both Maria and I don’t travel well. We both find it to be a rather disturbing experience, although for entirely different reasons. Maria has somewhat of a phobia for flying which I have ignorantly fanned for years with repeated tales of horrific plane crashes and other travel related horror stories which I evilly recount to her just before we leave on long journeys. She also generally tends to be afraid of heights, of water, of open spaces, of closed spaces, of most perilous things and of virtually anything that hasn’t got arm rests on each side and a cushioned chair underneath.

I on the other hand, have been very much of a daredevil all of my life, and am not bothered about any real or perceived danger. I do however find absolutely no enjoyment in spending hours of being pushed around airports, queuing for various boring procedures, being harassed by security personnel, walking for miles through never ending corridors, waiting for ages like an obedient dog, only then to be stuck sitting on my ass for hours on end without any possibility of moving except for stumbling a few meters to the closest toilet and back. In fact I despise the imposed confinement and boredom that traveling invariably imposes.

This particular journey lasted 23 hours from the point of leaving one hotel to the moment of arriving at the other, of which nearly 11 hours was raw flying time alone. Ouch! The Tokyo hotel kicked us out at noon, then we had half an hour taxi ride to the main train station, followed by another half hour wait, then an hour’s train ride to the airport. Due to the distance a taxi to the airport would have cost around €250! So the train will do nicely, thank you very much.

Upon checkin at Tokyo airport there was this angry Arab who kept shouting and snarling at everyone around him in a very nasty terrorist sort of way. We jokingly said, imagine if he was actually on our flight, haha hehe. Much to our horror not only was he on our flight but he was queuing up right in front of us when he actually brought out a homemade electronic ticking device and placed it defiantly on his trolley for everyone to see!! Maria nearly died and I tried consoling her by explaining that if it were really a bomb he wouldn’t have exactly brought it out in the open would he. I mean even suicide bombers have some common sense don’t they! Somehow after telling her that I realized the full absurdity of what I had just said. And looking at his contraption I must admit that it sure as hell looked like a homemade explosive device. Most disconcerting indeed, especially knowing that we were going to spend the next 11 hours stuck in a plane with this mad Arab and his evil looking devices!

Being a very light sleeper at the best of times, I find it totally impossible to ever sleep in a plane. So as expected, being a night flight, in no time whatsoever the 350 odd passengers on board were all fast asleep happily snoring and dreaming, totally oblivious to their surroundings. Every single passenger except me, which is particularly irritating. Just look at the wrapped up bastards fast asleep. I could slap them all hard across their ugly face if only there was somewhere I could then run to… And it’s not like I didn’t try to sleep. Before the flight I purposely indulged in wine, whisky and sake and then even popped a couple of Maria’s anti anxiety pills on top of that, just for added effect. Very naughty you might be thinking, but I swear that I felt absolutely no effect. Nothing except for a strange and lingering erection which came out of nowhere and somehow lasted all the way to the Chinese Thai border before it gradually wore off. Pity we didn’t get to use it, but Maria too was asleep and although she never objects to being woken up for a bit of nooky, her fear of flying would have required foreplay well into India and perhaps even Pakistan, which surely would have alerted the hostesses after a while. Also already being a proud member of that club, it somehow loses much of its appeal and basically without the novelty ends up feeling exactly like what it truly is – having a quickie in a tiny stinking loo.

Luckily we weren’t seated next to mad Mohammed laden with bombs, but right next to us was a very suave individual indeed. Remember when people dressed up very smartly to fly and men actually wore suits for the occasion? Well times have really changed and today wearing comfortable clothes is the name of the game. But from that to wearing a bloody undervest as this peasant did, is perhaps taking comfort just a bit too far. Chalie bil flok ta’ taht lol! So stylish and chic!

After having difficulties deciphering signs in Cyrillic in Russia, then in Japanese in Tokyo, we finally arrive in Dubai where I look up and naturally the signs are in Arabic. Incidentally on our last leg from Dubai to Malta the plane stopped in Cyprus, where we were regaled with signs in Greek. It’s hard to imagine that after some time you can even come to miss an alphabet.

We finally get a taxi to our Dubai hotel and get there at 4:30am local time. We paid the taxi, walk into the hotel and go to reception to check in. Only to find out a few minutes later that the asshole taxi driver brought us to the wrong hotel. There are two Meridien’s in Dubai and we were booked at the other one. So another taxi is called and we try again, just what we were in the mood for after traveling from one side of the world to the other.
We finally crash out on our bed at 5am, tired, spent and rather dizzy. Maria’s head had barely touched the pillow and she was instantly out. But me, do you think that I got any sleep? Now even my jet lag was jet lagged, if you see what I mean. My biological clock just looked me squarely in the eye and bitterly uttered ‘fuck you, you’ve messed me up enough with your constant changes, I’ll sleep when I want and not when you tell me too’. Oh well I suppose I’ll just write this post then until the bitch decides to give me some shuteye…

When was the last time you just let go

When was the last time you expressed yourself
In wild abandon
Took the bull by the horns
And rode it valiantly around town

When did you break those shackles
That society so strictly imposes
And stopped restricting and self censoring

You are you
You are yourself
Stop trying to be somebody else

Let out all your emotions
Your deepest and wildest feelings
Your thoughts and loves and hates
For that is who you truly are

Embrace your inner self
And bring it out for all to see
For you to live and experience
Who you really are

Don’t punish yourself for being you
For you can be no other
Ignore all those who cannot
Understand and appreciate you
You can only be your best
When you are true and free

Revel in your nature
Celebrate your every trait
Disregard those who interfere
Position yourself at your peak
Relish your greatest differences
Never underestimate the potential
Of your dreams

Venture beyond your horizons
And take those risks
For without them you will remain
A prisoner of yourself
A prisoner of your dreams
A prisoner of your emotions

Just be a prisoner no more

Based mainly on Tyrone’s recommendation, and admittedly also a quick google shufti, we decided to give this freak show a go. This dubious establishment lies smack bang in what is known to be the largest red light district in the whole of Japan. Hmm pleasant! So we make our way through the many petite, deceivingly innocent looking whores, the not so petite mainly black American sounding pimps, who insist on approaching us even though we were so obviously a white-knuckled partner-grasping couple, avoid all the lewd, live and lustful clubs and do our best to blend into this debauched, depraved and decadent scene, until we finally arrive at the Robot Restaurant. In spite of its name today this is no longer a restaurant at all, but a small theatre of sorts, laid out in music hall fashion, with three rows of seats on two opposing sides and a small stage area in the middle. But wait, you don’t get inside before a long, intricate and most intriguing process, which although rather cumbersome, does admittedly add suspense to the whole event and as we later realised, also forms a clever part of the entire experience.

They run several shows per night and we booked for the 9:05pm feature. So we get there about 20 minutes early and although there is a massive facade all completely covered in zillions of lights, video screens, monitors, lasers, electronic broadcasters, flashing lights, sirens and loudspeakers, they somehow seem to have forgotten to include a door! Yes this is Tokyo and even a tiny hole-in-the-wall sweet shop would have at least a couple of million signs, neons and videocasters on the facade, let alone what has become one of the top nights out in town! So equally in Japanese fashion where everyone wants to help you, yes even the pimps here are kind and polite(!!!) a couple of strange characters suddenly crept out of the shadows and very politely indicated to us that we first have to go to the Booking Centre building across the road.

You don’t just walk into the Robot Restaurant like that now do you! So we crossed the road and walked into this glitzy facility with photos of the show, of many a celebrity who has visited and of most other things you can ever imagine. There was also a long counter with several staff members, but when we approached and told them that we had booked, they explained in their habitual barely comprehensible, broken English that if we booked for the 9:05 show then we had to turn up for the tickets at 9:10. After getting them to repeat and reconfirm this around 12 times, being of course the first time in our lives that we were asked to pick up tickets for a show not half an hour before but 5 minutes after the show begins, we shrugged our shoulders and walked away. After all this is Tokyo not the Manoel Theatre, so what the hell do you expect.

Rather than being accosted by Mike Tyson and Co. and their extremely weird husband and wife proposals for a good night out, we decided to stay put and wait it out. However within minutes and well before the indicated time, a hostess or something came up to us and explained the charges which were just above €50 each for entrance, and that we had to pre-purchase drinks coupons before we went in. So €125 later we were sent out, round a small dark alley on the side to a tiny, all but hidden entrance. However, before any creeping doubt may have set in, we were instantly put at ease along the way, by the dozens of polite and welcoming hostesses, strategically positioned ever 12.5 centimetres of the way, who all but offered to carry us on their tiny backs to ensure our total pleasure and comfort.

We walk in and are escorted to the flashest and fanciest lift we have ever seen and asked to proceed up to the waiting hall on level 3. So off we go and when the lift doors open we don’t know if we are hallucinating or if this is bling heaven itself. I will have to use every bit of my descriptive mastery to even attempt to explain what this hall looked like… Basically it was totally and entirely clad, walls, floors, ceiling, columns, nooks and crannies, absolutely everywhere, in lights, screens, colours, flashes, movement, sound, music, video clips and every other possible shock to the senses that could ever be crammed into one area to the power of one million! The wow factor, the glitz, glitter, bling, razzle-dazzle, flashy extravagance of this hall most definitely must be second to no other anywhere else on Earth, and I mean it. So we walked around in awe, consumed our couple of prepaid drinks and then listened to the talented robot-clad band which played excellent moody music. And this is the waiting room!!! In hindsight after having seen the show, and without in any way diminishing the massive entertainment factor of the show itself, I do sometimes wonder if this first taster actually matched or even outweighed the main feature itself…

By around 9:30 a small crowd had gathered in this spectacular area, the majority of which were Westerners, mainly Americans who could be spotted a mile away by their size, weighing in at around 6 Japs each and who could somehow still be heard above the very loud music. I am really not trying to be derogatory or to come to any form of conclusion, I am just stating what was simply true and very evident to all and what is not even necessarily a negative thing, but they were big, very big and they were loud, very loud. And all this came in crashingly explosive contrast to the locals, who are tiny and exceedingly humble and polite, but anyway, that is another story… So at 9:30 we are all asked to proceed down to the main hall, down a never-ending stairway. We all walked down floor after floor, not quite sure how many, but it must have been at least twelve hundred floors tongue emoticon However, very much in line with the rest of the establishment, the stairway itself was a masterpiece of pop art and bling and was equally entirely clad in images of girlies, cartoon characters, dragons, monsters, sexy ladies and well just pick absolutely any word out of the dictionary and I can guarantee you that it was there.

So we finally arrive down in the abyss which was anything but impressive. A medium sized hall with two huge screens on two opposing sides, beneath which were 3 rows of red seats and between which was the small show area. We are all finally seated, waited for the tiny min-skirted girls to run up and down the sides holding up their amusing badly translated information signs to patrons which included pee pee, mobile phone, drinks and several other instructions. The most important of these requirements was for the front row patrons to keep a constant look out for the many props throughout the show which would literally rip their head off unless they ducked and dodged to let them past, to which everyone laughed, until the show began!! Then boom, at around 9:45 the main lights go out, several whirling spots come on plus a couple of even more identical looking tiny Japanese miniskirt clad girlie mc’s frantically run around the stage announcing stuff and BANG the show finally begins.

To sum up the show, it was without the shade of a doubt the most absurd, hilarious, ludicrous, non-sensical, disjointed and outrageously incoherent collection of exceptionally bright lights, unexpected props, sudden movements, little girl dance trooping, fake acting, constantly transforming, loud music, I have ever witnessed in my long and varied life. It was an eclectic array of Asian pop culture, carnival like floats, kitsch decor, Westerised Asian cheerleader troop like dancers, huge animated monster figures, little Jappies sticking out of every hole in every float, soft furry cartoon character clad costumes, fake battles between the goodies and the badies, an abundance of flat-chested, microskirted, panties revealing, 12 year old looking, screeching and ever smiling little girlies who were virtually poured out of the floats did their amusing routine and were hoovered back into them – all in a marked and unexpectedly clever hi tech sort of way. WOW! It was about as amusing and entertaining as it was foolish and idiotic. It was infinitely childish and shallow yet so much fun and delight. It was obviously something which had to be simply taken at face value without the least bit of soul or reason searching. It was an awesome collection of props, lights, electronic mastery and human choreography which is simply meant to amuse by its very absurdity and enormous take on contemporary Asian pop culture. We were treated to robots of all shapes and sizes, to evil looking monsters, weird vehicles and spaceships, chariots, dragons, cows, tigers, pandas and the ubiquitous girlies, often all at the same time!

If you want to see something with a deeper sense of meaning then go to the opera or to a ballet. If you want to see something totally hilarious and ridiculous with the props to match – then go to Robot Restaurant. And to make one last comment regarding the price. Well this is Tokyo and considering that €120 will get you an average bird sized meal for two in a poky basement diner, then it is fairly good value. Frankly it would not be the sort of show you would want to return to see twice, but it is without a doubt one which you simply have to see once.

I must admit that Tokyo was by far the highlight of this trip for us. It was extremely intriguing to be immersed in such a different culture, yet due to the organisation, high technological level and overall development of the country, in many ways it did not feel so different from what we know. I must admit that when we had visited China a few years ago, the culture shock there was immensely greater than we felt in Japan.

Japan is extremely civilised, cultured, refined, safe, honest and above all always so respectful and polite. So all of this tends to partially eclipse the otherwise many differences in our respective cultures.

There is so much to do and to see in Tokyo that in our four days we barely managed to scratch the surface. Most parts of it are also reasonably pedestrian friendly, so you can very comfortably walk around to discover its many facets in detail, which I always find is about the best way possible to get to know a city, from up close. There are also literally all types of sites and activities for all tastes and preferences. So we tried a bit of everything, as we usually do.

Their parks and famous Japanese style gardens are simply gorgeous and not only do they feast the mind and spirit, but they are also virtually an occasional must to get out of the maddening crowd. So I would definitely recommend any visitor there to slot in a quiet stroll through any one of the major green areas every other day or so. The detail and upkeep of these gardens is of a truly impressive level and second to none.

There are also several specific typical city sites, such as the two highest towers in Japan. One is Tokyo Tower, which looks distinctly like the Eiffel Tower and at 332.9 metres is the second tallest structure in Japan. It is a magnificent sight at night, lit up in distinctive yellow and orange lighting. Then there is the Tokyo Skytree, a broadcasting tower which at 634 metres is the tallest structure in Japan, the tallest tower in the world and the second highest structure in the world, after Burj Khalifa in Dubai, which incidentally we were standing beneath only a couple of days later. Yes I know all this nomenclature is confusing, so best to simply ignore it…

As we decided to view Tokyo from above both at night and during the day, to take in such spectacular views in its two aspects, we first chose to visit Tokyo Tower at night. However we arrived there a few minutes too late and were unable to ascend to watch the lights from high above. However admittedly the view at night from our 19th floor hotel bedroom window was so stunning that we were very well served in nocturnal panoramas anyway. So we contented ourselves with a few fun photos of the tower sticking out of Maria’s head and eventually made it back to our hotel bedroom window, with a glass of something from our own extensive personal bar.

The day after we were planning to visit the area where the Skytree happens to be anyway, so we decided to give this one a try. Our first shock was the endless queue we had to follow for a good 20 minutes to get in and our second even greater one was that once we were up there at truly stratospheric heights, we could actually feel the bloody thing sway! Maria is very bad with heights at the best of times and it really started making me feel queazy. I soon got that funny stomach feeling which you tend to get right in between being drunk and getting a hangover. So this, along with the hoards of people and trillions of schoolchildren, sent us back down before you could reach out for a sickness bag.

This dubious experience, of queuing for ages, paying for entrance tickets virtually as high as the structure, fighting off throngs of people everywhere, only to see what could be seen closeup from below at a different angle, also got us to think. Swaying or no swaying we have been up so many tall structures all over the world to see exactly what you see from your airplane window before landing and just after takeoff, that this might have marked a small turning point in our future travels. Do we really want to go up any other such structures to see what actually looks pretty similar from that height when you think about it, no matter the city concerned? I suppose being blasé does come into it as well, because how many times can you do the same thing and truly get a kick out of it before you get bored?

So having consciously and happily evolved in our travel ascending preferences, we very happily moved next door into what is a massive shopping mall on many levels and another equally impressive adjacent structure, entirely dedicated to all types and forms of restaurants and assorted eateries. Which bring me to two very interesting topics, that of shopping in general and then that of dining.

As is to be expected, the shopping possibilities in a place like Tokyo are purely endless. This varies from tiny holes in the wall, to small and average sized shops, to large department stores, endless malls and every other possible existing format. Similarly you can go for the top brands and spend your entire lifesavings in less than a day, or shop around for relatively cheaper stuff. There are also many districts around Tokyo which specialise specifically in certain types of shops, as is Ginza for top brands and the electronics district for such goods.

Pricing in general is not at all cheap for virtually all items. Japan is however no longer the nightmarishly expensive destination that it used to be and by a long shot. The yen has greatly devalued over the years which has brought prices down to a similar level to top European capitals today.

However if it is clothing you are after you might have a bit of a problem, especially if you are not tiny in size as most Japanese tend to be. It is in fact amazing what extremely few obese people you ever encounter anywhere, in spite of the zillions of people who cross your path every living moment. If I am not mistaken we probably saw a total of three people who could have been considered as overweight and surprise surprise we heard two of them talking in a distinctive American accent, so although in all probability they were of Japanese ancestry, they were holidaying here from the U.S! It is even shocking when you travel back here and see the average size of people compared to the average Japanese, who have somehow totally escaped the overweight scourge of most other developed countries. Admittedly though it is also their body structure which is so small compared to ours. To be perfectly honest we also found their clothing styles not exactly to our taste either, but then again I suppose that this is purely a matter of personal opinion.

Isn’t eating and drinking about the greatest thing you can do when on holiday? And what a coincidence that they are also about the best things you can also do when back home. Yes I will accept the fact that wining and dining are amongst are favourite hobbies and for us also make up a significant part of our holiday. As expected, here again the options are simply endless in Tokyo. We were quite surprised that virtually all restaurants around looked relatively small and verging on poky, with very few visible large or lavish establishments around, except for those in luxury hotels. Not that this was a drawback in any way, it was just mildly surprising, that’s all.

As may be expected, the vast majority of restaurants offered local cuisine, however there was also a marked focus on Korean and Chinese restaurants, as well as Thai, Vietnamese and Indian. Italian restaurants loudly displaying their world famous pizza and pasta options, were neither lacking. And then if you desired any other cuisine on earth, all you had to do was look for it and you were sure to find it sooner rather than later.

In spite of what many might think, sushi and sashimi are also somewhat considered as speciality food even in Japan, and also with people such as ourselves who simply adore it, after a few such meals it can tend to become a bit repetitive and boring. Overall we had good quality sushi and sashimi, however in all honesty none of them were any overwhelmingly better than the good ones you can eat here in Malta.

So we mainly indulged in their more staple fare such as their miso and oden soups, the many tempuras, seaweed in all forms, their many pickled and salted items, deep-fried meat and fish dishes and their many stews of all types flavoured with local exotic ingredients. If I had to summarise the food in general I would say that it was most interesting and usually pretty good. Was it spectacular? No, not really and I would even say that comparing our own experiences at least, we probably ate much better when in China. But please do not repeat this to any of your Japanese friends, as such comparatives with their rivals Chinese might easily turn them kamikaze against me.

Prices for meals were also expensive but not horrendously so. Food prices always looked rather reasonable and each dish does not cost a lot. However they are invariably baby hatchling sized and being the gigantesque European swine that we are, while we were always sitting next to an entire Japanese family huddled around a maximum of two dishes and a bowl of rice, we usually ended up ordering most of the items on the menu to eat to our fill. No wonder these people are so slim. Our eating habits insofar as quantities are concerned are about as far apart from each other as our countries truly are. And we are both by any account very small eaters by Maltese standards!

So the multiplicity of dishes so to speak, will of course end of bringing the price up considerably. You start off by looking at the menu which usually has pictures, which is a lifesaver in itself, and point at a lovely photo of a succulent main course, only to have it served on a tiny saucer which looks more like a mezze of sorts. Without any exaggeration, it would take around three of theirs if not four to compete in size and weight to one of ours. So what initially look like fairly decent food prices are then doubled or trebled, unless you want to eat Japanese style and then pick up a burger and chips from the ubiquitous McDonalds on every street corner, on the way home. And if you are on the lookout for a fun fact, there are actually 1,600 of them in Tokyo alone.

Then of course there are the beverages. Here again we tend to differ much with the Japanese who are anything but heavy and regular drinkers, as many of us Western abusers have turned out to be. So if in local style you have one tasteless lukewarm green tea with your entire meal, your bill will be virtually unaffected. But if on the other hand you want your standard fix with every meal, being in the form or wine, or beer, or spirits, or even their own homegrown sake, then you might be in for a little surprise. All alcoholic beverages are expensive and many times the price you would pay for them back home.

So all in all if you are careful and somewhat put on the brakes to your habitual glutinous Western style eating and drinking, you might just about keep pricing down to the barely affordable, but never the cheap. Let us just say that you can very easily run up a bill of say € 120 to € 150 for two for a seemingly light meal. If you want to have what we normally consider a full meal here in Malta, then you could easily double this up, especially you don’t shy away from a drink!

But there is loads more to do in Tokyo with something to please anyone’s tastes. We also visited a couple of temples, the most renowned of which being Senso-ji in Asakusa. For me at least this might have been the most disappointing of all our visits, as I found the whole experience shoddy, very touristy and commercial. The temple buildings themselves, did have a certain appeal and were of a marked interest. But the entire place was swarming with screaming visitors of sorts, mainly Japanese, including fake samurai and geishas posing for money and several other freak show items of the day. People were running around like headless chickens purchasing all sorts of presumed sacred items, ringing bells and hitting chimes, blowing on inanimate objects, opening and closing drawers like contraptions, wildly shaking strange rattle like objects and on every gadget and device were the instructions and more importantly the price, in 45 languages to make sure that any dumb willing tourist will not miss out on the fun. Added to all this distasteful charade and commotion were the obligatory souvenir stands all over the place, selling all types of perfect dust gathering mementos of this anything but spiritual shrine.

But I certainly do not want to end our story of Tokyo on a low. For it is a fantastic city and a truly worth while travel destination and even just walking aimlessly in the streets is a treat. There was so much more we didn’t have time to do such as visiting Tokyo Bay and its impressive bridges, or the famous Tsukiji fish market which is best visited just before dawn.

This is certainly somewhere we would like to revisit and hopefully next time round, time permitting, we will travel outside Tokyo and further afield. For us hopefully our four days in Tokyo will serve only as a small introduction to this wondrous country which if Japan.

I would like to start this piece by assuring everyone that any analytical attempts to explain an entire country, its millions of people, its culture and centuries old traditions, based on a four day stay in the same one location, are purely accidental. For I am not truly analysing, but I am simply narrating our experiences and recounting our impressions and personal opinions, likes and dislikes, without forming any judgment.

This was very much our first time in Japan and to be totally honest we were not quite sure what to expect. Nor did we do any in-depth research before travelling except for a few informal chats with a couple of friends. There are always two sides to a coin and for me this is akin to reading all about a movie before watching it. It does give you loads of information, but also tends to take off that edge of surprise and discovery. We have had the opportunity of traveling far and wide and I really feel comfortable landing anywhere on earth with very little preparation and simply taking it from there. For me this is also part of the fun, whilst on the other hand there was many a time when I thoroughly researched a destination, with exact details of restaurants, sites, etc., only to be disappointed and end up doing my own thing in a different way anyway once I’m there. So in many ways both methods can work well.

And of course Japan is one of those places you hear so many weird and wonderful things about. It sounds from afar like a different planet where everything is done in a totally different way. You hear of samurai, ninjas, geishas, tea ceremonies, maid cafes, schoolgirl uniformed waitresses, dragons and hobgoblins, although admittedly the last one of these is more from the Irish side of Japan.

And then you go there and no there aren’t samurai vs ninja battles at every street corner. Actually there aren’t any at all. The only couple of geishas we encountered were standing outside a temple charging dumb tourists money to take a photograph with them. And although all of what I mentioned above does truly exist in Japan, it is a bit like expecting to see A-list celebrities everywhere when in LA, or running into the queen on Oxford Street, or again meeting milk maids everywhere in Holland, if you get the gist.

So we get there and move around as normal, unknowing and relatively uncaring tourists would do. We see the sites, ask around and generally do and see what comes our way, which I assure you is a great way to travel. If nothing else it allows for total objectivity, no bias or preconceived ideas and no particular expectations at all.

By far the most stunning and pronounced aspect of Japan is the exceptional politeness, kindness and helpfulness of the people. This is way beyond belief and really taken to the extreme. You are very humbly greeted by everyone, saluted with never ending singsongs whenever you enter or exit a building, people jump in very keenly to help others, it is all quite surreal really. We saw people virtually fighting on the underground to give each other their seat, others pushing and shoving to help an elderly person carry a heavy bag. We had half the personnel of a metro station falling over themselves to give us a few cents refund after we accidentally purchased slightly more expensive tickets. Policemen walk with you for miles to show you the way. From all the people we encountered in four days, I cannot remember having met even one single individual who was not excessively and exceedingly polite in every possible way.

And yes there are even times when it can verge on being too much. Their greetings and salutations go on and on forever and are always uttered in a sloppy and screechy singing way. When leaving a shop you have gathered your purchases, walked away from the cash point, gone all the way to the front door, exited the building, start your way down the road outside and they are still at it and you can still hear them continue their singsong rant in your honour – really! In the large department stores there are always two or three staff members strategically positioned next to the main doors who constantly and incessantly just sing out their greetings by repeating the very same phrases over and over again, without as much as taking a breath in between. This was a case in fact which even verged on the annoying.

But so many a time we just looked at each other in total amazement and wondered where the rest of the world went wrong. I will leave out Russia, where unfortunately people are generally of the extreme opposite demeanour and which only heightened our delight and disbelief when encountering such wonderful politeness. If we take Europe in general, be it Malta, Italy, France, the UK or any other country, there is absolutely no comparison and one is even unable to equate. Because the extent of their politeness permeates literally everywhere, including places which in Europe are certainly not associated to extreme friendliness, such as public places and offices, airports, supermarkets, taxis, metro stations and even the average person in the street.

This in turn links up very directly and effectively with the matter of communication when you’re there. Very few people speak any English and the ones who supposedly do, and this includes the staff at our luxury hotel, speak it vely badry and can hardly be understood. There are quite a few signs and notices in English, but then again most are only in Japanese. Their intricate transport and most other systems require several Ph.D’s to even start to understand the concept due to their complexity. But you know what, as they are all so keen to help you and to go totally out of their way to assist, it really doesn’t matter so much. They all somehow overcome their ignorance of English by trying so hard and often even by rummage up a small crowd of passersby who collectively would know each individual word of the required sentence. So we just became super lazy and didn’t much bother with maps and metro plans and how to get places and do things. We just head straight into the street and literally asked our way around town. With the metro too which can at times be quite daunting, the easy way out is to go straight to one of the attendants, inform them of the station you want to travel too, hand out some coins and let them work the ticket machines.

We had the dubious occasion of visiting two different red light districts, being Kabukicho and Roppongi. These areas are also major tourist attractions, as are so many red light districts around the world, excluding Albert Town in Marsa. So I assure you that we were only window shopping and both these areas are amongst the best evening locations for dining and for all types of entertainment, from the cleanest to the smuttiest. I have yet to learn why many of the pimps there were black American ‘gentlemen’, many of whom, in stark opposition to the local pimply pimp variety, looked like they were related to Mike Tyson. The girlies themselves, were exactly that. Little girlie innocent looking very modestly dressed anything but prostitute looking young girls, and all Japanese. Yes I properly checked that they weren’t Korean or Chinese or Taiwanese, is all about the angle you know…. Now I am sure that they were all well above legal age but all being so tiny and petite and having those white porcelain like faces, they always betray their true age.

So as we warily waded through big black hulks, little Japanese pimplets and even littler prudish looking miniature hookers, we were very politely greeted, propositioned, suggested and proposed. They offered different options, invited us in and out, over and under. They very caringly enquired what a nice couple like us might desire. Because walking around with my wife didn’t in any way stop them and they seemingly had many a ‘fitting’ option to what we might want. But the whole surreal experience was full of smiles and gentleness and loving care. And with each refusal they received from us we were invariably gracefully bidden farewell and a nice evening and thank you for passing by and for giving us the opportunity to propose our esteemed sexual fare. Now when in a country where even the pimps and the prostitutes are so perfectly polite, you really and truly know that this is a polite people indeed!

We also must keep in mind that Tokyo is by far the most populated city on Earth. The population of its urban area is around 38 million, which compared to the population of entire countries would put it in 36th place out of 256 nations! It has a population higher than Canada or Australia, all packed into one massive city and there are many places where you distinctly feel it, such as the famous and iconic Shibuya Crossing where up to 2,500 pedestrians cross in each two minute interval and up to one million people a day! But then again there are many parks and gardens and secluded corners all over town and right in the centre where Tokyo actually feels like some sleepy county town. So the crowds and the madness can be easily avoided and many a beautiful, tranquil garden exists.

On the other hand one of the drawbacks of such a huge city is the time it takes you to get in and out. Based on this fact we decided to stay put rather than venturing out to Kyoto or beyond. The main airport Narita alone is over 60 kilometers from the centre and takes around one hour by express train. We enquired about taxis but these cost around € 250 each way, so we wisely decided to spend these € 500 on more pleasurable stuff.

After all the trains such as everything else, are spotlessly clean, organised and efficient and run perfectly on time. Cleanliness everywhere is hard to beat and the word immaculate instantly comes to mind. In fact a strange point we noticed is that it is very hard to find any thrash cans anywhere in public places and this was not a wild impression. This might sound contradictory to cleanliness but it seems that they have even gone beyond needing bins as nobody would ever dream to throw away anything on the ground. We also clearly noticed that in public places nobody tends to eat or drink and that this is always reserved to the obvious places such as kiosks and cafes. The complete and exact opposite to Malta where people seem to be always stuffing their face with one thing or another and at every possible opportunity.

Another interesting feature is that there are so many different centres of activity unlike so many cities which only truly have one main hub. In fact Tokyo has many districts, all with their own buzzing centre and with their specific characterisations and specialities. Some are known for mainstream shopping, or for specialised shops, others for temples and sights, some for offices, others for parks and walks and also those for nightlife and entertainment. So in many ways it is nearly like many cities fused into one. The convenience and practicality of this as a tourist is that all you have to do is head to the centre of a different district every day and automatically explore something different each time.

These were our very first impressions of Tokyo which could only be summarised as great! A truly interesting place with so much to do and see and graced by about the gentlest and politest people on earth….

… more to come on Tokyo

A true friend will not always agree with you. They will not say that you are always right and they will not say that you are always wrong. They will say what they truly think, but they will say it in a way which doesn’t hurt you.

A true friend will not comfort you in your errors and mistakes. They will point them out to you even knowing that you might not immediately accept the truth.

A true friend will sometimes fight with you and even make a big mistake. But true friends forgive each other. Without forgiveness there cannot be true friendship.

A true friend isn’t perfect but fraught with imperfections. But friends accept each other the way they are and love each other for whom they truly are.

A true friend will listen to you and your problems and then listen a bit more. If they call to see how you are and within less than a minute they are recounting their own problems, then they are friends to themselves and not to you.

A true friend will not use you as an earpiece to their problems. They will talk and confide in you when needed and then they will listen to you when it’s your turn.

True friends can sense it when you are in need or in trouble. They will anticipate your needs and will help you out without you even asking.

A true friend will never be jealous of what you have but will genuinely be pleased for you in your every success.

True friends will give you that last piece of cake.

A true friend will give you the best seat.

True friends do not hit the road when the going gets tough.

True friends will support you in thick and thin and in spite of all the pressures around them.

A true friend is loyal to you until the end.

The harsh reality of life is that we have very few real friends and often none at all. But we all think that we have many, being surrounded by so many who pose as such.

Our culture tends to lean towards superficiality where we all like to pretend. We have endless acquaintances on different levels of friendship, but how many would really support you in times of need. And I am not referring to a little message or phone call just for show. As the saying goes actions speak louder than words and I would go further by saying that actions without words speak even louder!

For me, like charity, good deeds do not come with a public announcement. If I feel I want to help someone I will do it without the least of a fuss. I will do it because I want to do it, without scoring any points along the way. I do not expect a tap on the back for helping my wife and children, so the same goes with my true friends. It is the expected norm and needs no special appreciation or recognition, other than an underlying and untold confirmation that we are truly friends.

People who blow their trumpet already indicate that they are made of wind. Certainly show off your assets and talents in professional and other situations, but helping family and friends is not rewarded by medals.

Do not think and weigh and grudgingly count your friendship. If you love your friends you will give without expecting to receive. And if this is not how you feel, then at least stop pretending that you’re a friend.

These two countries are like being on two entirely different planets. Our last experiences in Russia, on our long drive to the airport, included ripping a tyre in a crater, compliments of the utterly disastrous state of the roads, as well as a toilet stop at one of the few public toilets available along this road, which is the principal one in this entire part of Russia. These are tiny shacks with a hole in the middle, with no drainage connection, but instead are built over cesspits which are rarely emptied and whose contents eventually rise up all the way into the shack!! Hmm, lovely! And yes that is exactly what you think it is in the pic!!! So you’re meant to simply straddle the overflowing hole, somehow not faint or puke due to the atrocious stench and simply add your lot to everyone else’s which is happily lapping at your ankles… YUCK!!! Naturally we used a field instead…

Then from this remote savage wilderness filled with endless emptiness, we come to world’s largest megapolis, the epitome of modernity and advancement and one of the most hi-tech places on Earth. The pics with the hi rise buildings show the view from our 19th floor luxury hotel bedroom window. And how is this for irony… the last toilet we encountered in Russia was the shit hole (and I am pleased to finally find a non-metaphorical use for this otherwise usually metaphorical analogy) described above, while the next one we experienced was the one in our hotel bedroom as seen in the pic below. This toilet truly comes with a 12 page manual due to its many sophisticated functions which include jets, spray, anal water massage, different directional spouts for varied genital and anal parts (really!), heated toilet seat, advanced bidet functions (whatever those may be over and above the ones already described) etc….! A whole science machine for total genital comfort and hygiene of sorts. So just the difference in toilets says it all and perfectly epitomises the enormous differences in living conditions between our point of departure and our destination.

From spending a couple of weeks in what remains one of the world’s largest and emptiest wildernesses, with an average population density of 3 inhabitants per square kilometre, we come to Tokyo which is the city with the world’s largest metropolitan area with a population of nearly 40 million and a density of 6,000 per square kilometre! And you know what, you barely notice the difference! Haha, if you believe that last comment you need to have your head fixed presto!! We saw about as much people in the arrivals lounge of the airport alone as we had seen in our entire two week stay in Siberia, or probably much more.

As we were transiting in Seoul we also had some time to explore the massive airport there and get a glimpse of hoards of people there many of whom were wearing their dumb face masks making you believe you were watching an episode of scrubs or something. Also it seems that the Koreans have recently come to think of themselves as the cool guys of the Far East and many visibly try to emulate this, unless the whole thing was purposely staged just for us with an airport parade of tiny, weedy, totally nerdy-looking individuals desperately trying to look cool and failing miserably at it. I specially took the attached video to tease our daughter who is obsessed with k-pop and everything Korean, for some weird reason (miskina). We definitely saw many more people in Seoul airport than in the whole of Siberia, that’s for sure.

So this leg of our trip was one of enormous contrasts in so many ways and in so many others it marked the beginning of my real holiday, if you see what I mean… After being stuck in Moscow mainly for administrative reasons, then in the far east of Russia mainly for marital reasons and entirely devoting three whole weeks of my life for altruistic motives, I was finally craving some well-earned pampering and self-indulgence.

In one last stroke of fate, after having very difficultly endured 3 whole weeks of the gruff, ill-natured, inhospitable Russian treatment from all the big, burly, rough people there, with whom I just had to bear it and lump it, in spite of my nature, we walked onto the plane which was a Korean carrier. Standing there were 6 tiny, pretty and petite Korean hostesses wearing the biggest smiles plastered across their porcelain-like faces, who showered us in endless greetings. Wercome sir, herro madam, so preased to have you on boald our ailprane. Prease be comfoltabre and ret us know if we can be of selvice to you. All this while beaming and smiling and bowing. One even told Maria “oh madam youl hail is so rovery you have a vely pletty styre”, at which point I just literally burst out in tears – honestly! It must have been all the tension and pressure I was under throughout the previous three weeks and all that pent up frustration which finally burst out.

We made our way to our seats with me sobbing while somehow simultaneously laughing at myself for crying. We’re back to civilization – I cried, look how nice they are to us. Oh wow this is what I have been missing, sob, sob, being treated like a human being at last. Surely that it the least I deserve mwaaa mwaaa and I cried and laughed myself in pleasure and in glee, spitting out all the Russian poison and immersing myself fully in the legendary Far East hospitality.

Admittedly inspired my our recent talk here of culture, integration and nationality, here is a more localised viewpoint which represents everything I am NOT but the sad reality of many.

US AND THEM

We beat them off our shores oblivious to their plight
No matter what their story or their origin
What we consider ours is not to share
It can only be sold at a very high price
Men women and children the sick and the infirm
Do not deserve a better life as we do

It is their very state of desperation
Illness misery and destitution
Which we despise and hold against them
We only celebrate wealth and great success
Admiration to the powerful and scorn to the meek

It is not our problem or our fight
They should blame their greedy governments
War torn countries full of strife
Famine drought disease and hardship
We did not chose their geographical location
We came there and did our bit not too long ago
Then conveniently retired to the safe havens of our homes
Leaving them to eternally suffer in their post European void

We will send them money food and clothes
Old shoes and blankets and other unwanted clutter
Sweet little prayers full of hope
But lest they approach our shores
We will tow them back out with a vengeance
Into the open seas where we have no control
Far beyond the remit of our collective conscience

We make up stories of horror and of doom
How our comforts and communities
They will tear and destroy with might
All the offspring they will purposely bear
Just to take over our towns and villages
Holy wars and cultural genocides
Racist xenophobic scaremongering beyond reason

All of Europe will be black and Muslim
The West will be totally under their control
Sick demented calculations of their rising populations
Are we in some sort of race
Are we meant to care which religion is the most predominant
Have we forgotten that more than half of Europeans
No longer profess any religion or belief

We will not mention that many will become
Labourers drivers policemen singers
Shopkeepers sportsmen newscasters
President
We talk only of bad apples and heinous crimes
Martin Luther Gandhi and Mandela
Only figments of our imagination

We despise their colour and their creed
All inferior to our own
We don’t want them in our neighborhood
They destabilize our comfort zone
And contrast sharply with our pools and lawns
Negative equity spoiling our neat white lives

Float away you ugly infidel
Take with you your sick and crying child
Disappear into the distant horizon
For we have claimed this land as ours
Making it arbitrarily out of bounds
We welcome white skinned expats from the north
English Germans Americans and Scandinavians
But not blacks and browns immigrant from the south

We do not love you as our neighbour
Love compassion charity and care
Do not apply
To Somalis Sudanese and Eritreans
Your blood your hearts and your souls
Are not the same as our Christian ones

Go
Go away
Take your suffering
For we don’t want to know
We don’t want to have any part of it
Stop unbalancing our status quo
Just go

Before we totally and happily abandon Russia and immerse ourselves fully into the intriguing and fathomless Nippon culture, let us search for some closure on the ultimate motherland, which is Russia. For what is Russia? Who is Russia? Naturally my intricate knowledge of this country and its people’s psyche goes much further than the recent one week in Moscow and the two weeks in the far east, which simply served as a quick but effective update on the matter.

The Russians too, similar to our experience during our visit, have a bitter sweet attitude towards their country, a marked love hate relationship of sorts. On one side they are amongst the most patriotic people of earth and rightly consider their country to be amongst the very greatest. It once equalled all, and surpassed many, European countries in the inception of Western art, literature, music, science, philosophy and political thought. A quick visit to Saint Petersburg will quickly confirm this if only by the palaces and architecture which easily compare to those in Paris and Versailles. Then, in their eyes, and this is where we have to remove our own political indoctrination constraining us to adore capitalism and to abhor communism, their already great country reached even higher degrees of greatness. It culminated very recently and in the lives of most people still living, into quite simply the world’s number one superpower in so many aspects, and only to come in at number two in all others. A very tall order indeed. Its military power, technological prowess and space exploration programmme, just to take a few examples, were for many years second to none and even superior and more advanced than those of the US for some time.

This is mainly why the dismantling of the USSR by Mikhail Gorbachev is still seen as the biggest mistake they ever committed, by the vast majority of Russians. From a land surface area alone the USSR controlled a staggering land mass roughly equal to all of North America, which of course includes Canada – the world’s second largest country, the US, which is not exactly small, Mexico, another large country, as well as all of Central America.

So this is where the Russian psyche is actually coming from. From enormous visions of grandeur equal to the Americans and I must say virtually identical in so many ways. That they reached this exalted stage through Communism rather than Capitalism is no less of a feat, and although I will not enter into a neverending discussion on the matter here, suffice to say that all systems have their pro’s and their con’s and both Communism and Capitalism are certainly no exception.

On the other hand however, the average Russian is also very aware that their country has gone to the dogs. That they themselves have grabbed and pillaged all the available resources and raped both the land and their own compatriots, all very simply for their own personal gain. They know that many of them are hard and ruthless, insensitive people who need very strict state-imposed barriers to keep them in line. And that general apathy and indifference to anything that doesn’t directly affect their own individual lives, erodes their nation and their people’s minds.

So many Russians admit that they live in a sort of dump – a great dump, with a fantastic past, unlimited potential, endless resources, so much space both in a physical way as well as in terms of possible improvement – but nevertheless a dump.

This is why when you bring this down and translate it into everyday life there, you have some of the richest people on earth, who drive their Lexus’s over some of the world’s worst roads. You have entire families still harvesting vast empires they created by deviating huge amounts of previous state incomes, while the average family still lives in a less than poky flat, sometimes sharing kitchen and bathroom with the other flats on the same floor of their block.

As Russian society is strongly matriarchal, many of the women are very strong, but in a rather obnoxious way. They are extremely hardheaded, they think they know it all and when they don’t they very visibly invent something to cover up, they have a dumb remedy for everything, they are very bossy, they insist on imposing their less than dubious ideas on you, they eat and drink mainly crap but try to force it down you as being the antidote for any ailment under the sun, they nag and complain all the time and generally make an absolute nuisance of themselves much to everyone else’s annoyance, especially other women’s.

And naturally where does this lead their men? Yes it is no surprise that living with a terrifying and tormenting monster at home and a totally run down country with no life on the outside, the only possible solace is pretty much hitting the bottle. And this they do! The problem of alcoholism is so real and palpable that it can be seen everywhere around you. Even the smallest of food stores devote an enormous area to alcohol, sometimes up to a third of their shop. A walk in the street rarely goes by without seeing a couple of staggering men, sometimes assisted by a shouting, insulting wife, no matter the time of day or night. And perhaps worst of all knowing people there and talking to them invariably brings to light numerous sad stories of alcoholism and even death at an early age, of many close to home.

All this has made for a gruff, harsh, unhappy Russian in the street. This, along with their own indoctrination under Communist times, when they were taught from an early age to keep a straight serious face and not to smile, as this made you look foolish and lightheaded, will not win the Russians any prizes in hospitality! Their normal demeanour is one with a long stern face, with even a frown of sorts, which many choose to keep even throughout any serving process you might have the pleasure of experiencing with them. They are usually very gruff, do not greet you upon arrival or departure, do not use useless words such as please and thank you, never keep doors open for you as you approach but seem to take pleasure in slamming it in your face, never thank you if you foolishly keep it open for them, slam down your chosen items on the table, virtually throw stuff such as change and other articles at you from metres away, prefer snapping at you rather than talking, hate being asked stuff as you are expected to obey and shut the fuck up, and are generally about the rudest, harshest, ungraceful bastards you will ever have the pleasure of encountering anywhere in the world.

Now for the good news! Yes, fortunately in life there is always the good news and the other side of the story. First of all let me start by saying that since my last visit some 8 years ago I have found a very marked improvement in their attitude and demeanour. Unfortunately still far off from winning any cordiality awards, but whereas before the vast majority were verging on hostile and you met one ‘normal’ person in perhaps 20, now it seems that more than half the people you encounter at random have become fairly ‘normal’ and don’t seem to hate your very existence. This was quite a relief and to be honest it was a very pleasant surprise. All my accounts above are equally relevant to both Moscow and the far east, although in Moscow they are obviously far more socially advanced and developed in every possible way. So at least things are moving very much in the right direction.

Here are a couple of funny stories while we were there, which demonstrate the current transition period they are going through. We had many an occasion to use the main bank around Russia called Sberbank. Now I very clearly remember that during my last visit each time we changed money in the banks we encountered exceptionally rude cashiers who after having taken our Euro notes literally hurled most of them back at our face saying ‘not good’, ‘not good’, in some false pretence that there was something wrong with many of our bank notes. Naturally there was absolutely nothing wrong with them and when we went to the next bank they threw back an entirely different set of notes at us upon the same false and nasty pretence. I remember clearly also that Maria was physically attacked by a bunch of bitchy women in a bank in her town, who falsely accused her of jumping the queue, although she was instructed to proceed by the security man there. They actually proceeded on tearing her coat in rage which was obviously more fueled by the visible fact that she was wearing a nice Western coat indicating that she had somehow made it abroad while they hadn’t.

So you would understand that it was with some apprehension that we entered the first bank in Moscow. Well I must say that both the security guard there and the cashier who served us were excellent! What an enormous relief! She was sweet, smiling and helpful and guess what… at each cashier point there was a Customer Satisfaction console of sorts, for clients to push before they left, indicating their consumer experience – a green button for good and a red one for bad! Wow, notions of customer care had actually arrived! We happily pressed the green button on this occasion. However at another Sberbank in Birobidzhan , we got the old cold shoulder treatment and when looking around wondering whether green and red buttons had made it so far east, we noticed the console purposely hidden out of sight under the cashier’s paperwork, ensuring that nobody would give her a bad mark.

Similarly in a supermarket in Birobizhan where the cashiers there were a mish-mash of niceish and not so niceish… they had visibly been required to bid every customer farewell by saying something to the tune of “thank you for shopping at our establishment and hoping to see you again soon”, another clear sign of a new consciousness in customer care. However the hilarious side of it is that many of them repeated it in a horrible aggressive voice and with a massive frown on their face, making the experience so absurd and totally surreal. However even here in general in the Russian wild east, many people seemed to have mellow and often even verged on the pleasant…

Besides the marked improvement in the people, I also found an equally visible improvement in their towns. Although there is still a lot to be done, notably to the infrastructure, I found that there are many new facilities such as shops and varied establishments, that many of the existing ones have been modernised, that there were many new cars on the road, a lot of new and previously missing signage and advertising, and an overall new contemporary feel to things which before was notable only by its absence. Moscow now feels like any other European city, whereas eight years ago it still felt like a post-Communist city still readjusting itself to its new situation. This is now all but gone. So things are definitely on the right track and hopefully will continue in this manner.

In all fairness, while I previously called the Russians the harshest and rudest people on earth, I must also add that ironically once you get to know the individual they become undoubtedly the nicest, kindest and most generous people on earth. They literally go from one extreme to another and would do virtually anything for you and a bit more. They drive hundreds of miles to pick you up or simply to greet you or see you off at the airport, even in the middle of the night, knowing that they have to go straight to work without any sleep right after, and even though they know that the airport is perfectly served by public transport. They insist you stay in their tiny apartments, give you their bed and sleep sitting on a chair in the kitchen or in the bathroom, from lack of any other space. They would spend every single ruble they have to make sure that you are well fed and well vodkad. Their kindness and generosity simply knows no bounds and never ceases to amaze me.

This Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality is diametrically opposed to the Maltese character which is so often purely based on superficiality and sameness no matter how little or how much you know someone. You meet a stranger in the street, in a queue, on the bus, in a bar, wherever, and they talk to you like an old time buddy, openly chatting away about themselves and their personal details and unashamedly asking you to reveal every aspect of your private life. Then eventually you get to know them, even become close friends with them and somehow the level of trust, generosity and kindness remains exactly the same! You call someone and ask for a favour but oh I’m afraid I really cannot help you there. You’re really in a fix and need assistance from your friends, but where have they all suddenly gone. God forbid you ever ask them for money cause that’s a case of never speaking to you again. Listen I really need your help, can you take a day off to come and assist me? You clearly must be out of your fucking mind even imagining that I would ever do that! Could you help me with something, no sorry I have my kids and my parents and they come first, second, third, and wait let me count to 100 perhaps I’ll find your ranking somewhere down there, precariously positioned between my hamster and my goldfish in order of importance and care. So a Russian friend is a real and true friend who’s notions of trust, compassion and honour with the people they consider friends is simply unquestionable.

There are various other positive aspects of Russia which I would like to expose. The people’s physical aspect is certainly another point worthy of mentioning. Although admittedly there are many who would require vast amounts of vodka to be in any way beddable, such as most of Maria’s classmates, due to their overweight, shabby and unkept appearance, there are many on the other hand who must have been flown in directly from perfect-looks-heaven. Many of the women there must be the most gorgeous creatures on earth with tall, athletic bodies, endless shapely legs, a beautiful muscled-up ass, nice, medium sized perky breasts and such an array of fascinating mixtures of facial features including Slav, European, Asian and Turkic. As a horny old man like me, it is impossible to walk down any street without quickly developing neck ache and eye ache, if you see what I mean.

And I must admit that the same goes for the men, for whom I didn’t quite turn my head around for fear of being considered gay, and you really don’t want that to happen in Russia of all places… Leaving the sad alcoholics aside, many of the men there are really noble examples of masculinity. Often very tall and extremely muscular, but in a very natural, work and sporty sort of way, not at all in a bodybuilding sort of way. With wide shoulders, a perfectly flat belly, pleasant, very handsome facial features, tufts of strong blond hair, might I say the very opposite of the average Maltese man, alas. So even as a man I couldn’t but admire these fine creatures carrying every desired trait that a good looking man could ever want.

From an Internet point of view I must say that their wifi coverage is much more widespread and present than most places I have been to and definitely much better than in Malta. Most public places and buildings, besides virtually all private establishments, offer free wifi and this also includes the metro underground system, which along with my total boredom, explained why I was on here most of the time while in Russia.
Prices in general too are a bit less exorbitant than they have been in recent years. Moscow particularly, which had firmly positioned itself as one of the most expensive cities on earth, has now become much more affordable, especially due to the more favourable rate of exchange to the Euro, compliments of Putin’s Crimean & Ukrainian antics, which have resulted in the devaluation of the ruble. There is also so much more available in the shops, especially in the form of our familiar Western European brands and products which were previously largely unavailable. In fact due to better availability and more reasonable pricing many people are now indulging in Scotch whisky, gin, French cognac and wine, while vodka is more and more being associated to the old-fashioned, passé Russia, for the sad alcoholic who is simply after a quick fix rather than a more sophisticated drink. While here in the West the vodka craze continues with a vengeance for so many years now…

One ingenious system I encountered there was in their schools, where all students must pass through a metro-style revolving barrier upon arrival and departure, using their personal card. This not only automatically updates the school with timings and attendance, but ingeniously also sends out an SMS in real time to their parents! How cool is that – for the parents at least!
One aspect of the Russian people I definitely admire is that in spite of their often dire circumstances, in spite of the fact that prices there are at least as expensive as Malta and often much more, and while they usually earn a pittance in wages and pensions, they all manage to live. And they all manage to live in relative class and style for their meagre resources. They dress well, they look great, they make an enormous effort and based on their unequalled ingenuity and resourcefulness they pull it off perfectly. This is where their hard head and great pride works entirely to their advantage, for being Russian is not about feeling sorry about yourself, it’s about being hard and about somehow over and above the odds, retaining your pride as a valid human being.

So slowly but surely there are more and more signs of overwhelming improvement in a country as large as a continent and where so much change and turmoil has characterised their recent past. The Russians are certainly not the easiest people on earth but once you get to know them you simply can’t help loving them and their hopeless Russianness which dictates their lives. They have an extremely thick and hard exterior which is very hard to crack, but if you have the fortune of crossing this harsh barrier you will find sizzling warmth and great joy and passionate love from which you will never want to part with again.