Fuzzy

The mood in Russia, Ukaine, Europe in the heat, some book/movie recommendations, and a fascinating WSJ article on Trump's "fundraising".

I don’t know exactly how long it has been, I can only say that writing this has become a bit of a burden which hangs over me in the back of my mind, and every day that passes that I don’t manage to put any thoughts to paper (screen), it feels like there is even more to cover once I finally force myself to sit down in front of my laptop for longer than it takes to order something on Amazon.

This summer I was lucky in that I managed to go to the beach a few times. My holidays are now over, and I had to literally sit on my hands to stop myself from buying another flight this weekend, so strong is the pull to jump into saltwater as July turns to August. Thankfully, the Ryanair algorithm smelled what I was up to, and increased the price so much that I would have been crazy to click, and instead, I am trying to survive another heatwave without A/C (but with some kind of cooling system, so I am really not suffering, at least not yet).

I snapped this beach shot on a very hot day a few weeks ago in France, where I was hosted by a friend, and after a very hot, expensive, and delicious lunch, where all the customers appeared to be either Americans or Russian-speakers because who else can afford Antibes these days. We walked a few yards over to the “free” beach which offers exactly nothing in terms of comforts, save for a tiny bar with about three tables and five chairs. Personally, I’ll take the rocky Adriatic anyday over the sands of the Mediterranean, but clearly there are those who are happy to plop down an umbrella anywhere, and who can blame them. I was actually surprised by one thing in France — I found their supermarkets, even in the expensive south, to be cheaper than ours in Austria, and not just wine — everything. I was also in some kind of heaven walking through the aisles of a “normal” French pharmacy. For all the talk of European socialism, it was interesting to see just how much we perhaps suffer here in Austria as consumers in a small country with an overregulated market dominated by oligopolies. I really didn’t expect to notice such a difference in the prices of basic food items.

But I digress.

In France I had the opportunity to speak with some people who are still living in Russia, and/or recently visited Moscow. The mood, from all accounts, is bleak. The petrol shortages are real, the attacks on Wildberries’ warehouses continue (Russia’s homegrown Amazon which also acts as a point of distribution for individual sellers, imagine Etsy shops using Amazon warehouses to store their goods), and rumors swirl about more mobilization (I think personally this is likely), and other more far-fetched internet plots (imho) such as a potential run on banks or the introduction of exit visas. For those Russians who managed to leave Russia and get Schengen visas, the process has become very challenging. You have to enter Europe via the country which granted the visa, then switch planes to your final destination, all while not cancelling your fake hotel reservation until the last second, so as not to risk “deportation” for not adhering to the visa rules. None of this was ever a factor a decade ago.

Small sellers turned to social media to explain they had quietly been asked to accept new terms and conditions from Wildberries about two weeks before the attacks began, in which Wildberries said it was not responsible for third party damage to goods stored in their warehouses, and small sellers would not be compensated for damages. Sellers then complained they were not even allowed to try and rescue what was left of their inventories sitting in the warehouses. Today I saw a video put out by Wildberries’ CEO (Russia’s first female self-made dollar billonaire, by the way) calling it an attack on all of Russia, not naming Ukraine but the message being clear.

Russians who did not leave in 2022, not because they supported the war in Ukraine, but most often because the idea of leaving was insurmountable, they owned real estate, worked in professions which were not easily transferrable abroad (a manicurist has a much better chance of starting over vs. a corporate lawyer, etc.), are now starting to feel like the clock is ticking a lot faster. If you think you are leaving for good, your net worth is tied up in your apartment, which you need to sell, and then you have to figure out how to get the money out of Russia, legally, and legalize it in Europe. I was told this is possible via Turkey or Kazakhstan, but imagine for a second the cortisol levels of just making these transfers, your whole life savings, floating from country to country. And then think about saying goodbye to everything you have ever known, learning a new language, figuring out how to survive economically, all mid-age, perhaps also not with perfect health. One person I spoke with is a cancer survivor.

The online communities in Serbia and to a lesser extent, Montenegro, are preparing for a new wave of Russians (tiny Montenegro introduced visas for Russians and Belarussians from November 1 as part of their future EU-joining steps). I cannot help but think about how huge Russia is and how tiny these Balkan countries are in comparison, and that their economies also surely cannot absorb everyone who has had enough and wants to leave but doesn’t know how to emigrate to a country which requires a visa.

I was scrolling this week and saw the most upsetting video of Putin actually making a joke (which fell flat, obviously, in front of a stunned audience of military officers), “if we were to end the Special Military Operation, what would we even do with ourselves?”. What is a game for him to counteract old age boredom has cost millions of lives and has no gone on longer than World War I. It is mind-boggling to me to think this might go on for even another year…even the president of Kazakhstan said to Putin’s face, during a public appearance about a week ago, that it is time to end the war. It was a bold statement from one of Russia’s relatively close allies.

Obviously the Ukrainians with whom I speak with are in Europe already. In the back of everyone’s minds is that no one in Ukraine wants to think about surviving another winter the way last winter played out, with freezing temperatures and hits to key energy infrastructure. This morning, it was reported that nine people died in Kyiv overnight as Russia attacked Kyiv with ballistic missles, and only one was shot down. It feels like now is more dangerous than ever to be in Ukraine, it must be exhausting on a level which is indescribable to live with the threat of being attacked in your sleep for years. Zelensky recently fired both the very popular minister of defense and the quite unpopular head of the army. The only constants appear to be both the war and Zelensky, make of that what you will.

Europe is quietly also tightening the screws. After March 2027, it will no longer grant temporary protection to Ukrainian men of age to serve in the military (although Europe has said it will not send back those already here). In Austria, the government voted to remove child benefits from July from those Ukrainians still on basic payments (I suppose the incentive here is to drive everyone to paid work, but it is essentially pulling the rug out from moms of young kids who for a myriad of reasons may not be able to work full time). Like everywhere, I suppose, those with a little financial cushion have some wiggle room, those who don’t have anything to fall back on are in very precarious positions. I see on a nearly daily basis posts from people looking to rent rooms for rental budgets which haven’t existed in Vienna since pre-2022.

I saw a post on social media today from an old friend from Russia, who is openly gay, left by walking across the northern border with Norway from Murmansk as soon as the war started, gave up a rather lucrative career as a corporate conference / event planner, moved to Spain, established residency, learned Spanish in a whirlwind despite not really knowing English, and is now working in a restaurant in a major Spanish city. He is renting a room without A/C with at least half a dozen flatmates. This is four years post-emigration. That is the realty of starting over, middle aged, in this economy, with wages where they are in Europe. He is not complaining. He filmed a morning yoga class in a public square on his way to work, all smiles, only hoping the fan he ordered will arrive soon.

We are sweltering again, and it is not for the faint of heart. There is a very good episode of The Daily on Europe and the heat. In early July, my type B daughter (I say this with love…I was once very Type A and am now more of a B+) told me she was invited to stay with a friend for a few days in August, and was googling flights to Bordeaux, the nearest airport. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. She spent €300 of her own hard-earned babysitting money on the flight. And then the wildfires started. And all of a sudden, she is planning on flying into what sounds like a horrible situation. As a mom, your heart sort of stops, like, do you really have to? Are you sure it’s safe? Their area, and the drive there? How do we even know what it will be like in a week? Every day a new part of Europe is burning, and each week we are setting new heat records that cities cannot cope with. The trams, at least the ones I was unlucky to get on this week, half of them are still not air conditioned, and it is like riding in a literal tin sauna with only tiny windows cracked. I never before have paid so much attention to walking on the shady side of the road. There are reports that so many people have been swimming in the Old Danube that it is now also polluted with both urine and sun cream. Lovely.

As one kid considers flying away, I have the other two kids on opposite continents, one still in Asia, having, what she told me yesterday, is “the best month of my life”, due to finally come home on Friday. My eldest will be home for all of six hours exactly two weeks from today, which is just crazy, as he trades summer job in NYC for a semester in Asia. I feel like a travel agent and an ATM and a long-distance absentee parent this summer, and it is not for the faint of heart. It is a really weird sensation, this idea that they are managing life, the ups and downs, the good and bad, but especially during summer, which used to be our time together, without you. I am finding myself strangely sentimental about not being a part at all of their experiences, while being immensely proud of how they are navigating the world beyond what I showed them.

My WhatApp just went off with a photo from Rhode Island.

A few hours ago it was from Seoul.

I know my biggest accomplishment by far, it sounds silly, but it is true, is raising three wonderful, smart, empathetic, worldly young adults. Perhaps part of my mental block of late is also repositioning myself for this next phase of life. My identity as mom was so first and foremost for so long that I am a little lost without it. I mean, I have always been reinventing myself one way or another (very ADHD of me, unmedicated, naturally), but mothering was a constant. You still mother, of course, just not as intensely, and so much is outside of your control.

Ah yes…what to read. First, this bombshell of an article by the WSJ about Trump’s fundraising from the White House calling corporate America for donations. Gift article here:

‘The Boss Wants This Money’: Inside Trump’s Unprecedented Fundraising Operation

I did manage recently to read quite an addictive little book which I discovered by accident when trapped by a summer thunderstorm next to a bookshop with a decent English-language section. Now Lolita-themes are not my normal choice but the writing is very sharp, observant, the pace fast, the characters believable, and it just sort of comes together in the way that a good TV show does and draws you in.

I have also been trying, far less successfully, to get through a history of Russia via its forests, and I have to honest, while there are a lot of interesting tidbits scattered throughout, especially about writers like Tolstoy and Chekhov, I am having a hard time followig the throughline, and frankly, finishing. But that might be more my attention span at the moment and not a reflection of the quality of the research nor the writing.

I did manage to go to the cinema, twice! I absolutely loved The Odyssey and I went in completely blind because if we did read it in high school English in public school in Arizona in the early 1990s, I don’t remember a thing. The three hours flew by and I was really engaged and thought it was all excellent. Maybe it is also just staring at the sea on the screen, and the cliffside scenery, it was all just gorgeously shot. Stunning.

I also saw The Invite which is a bit like seeing an off-Broadway play on a screen instead of a tiny theater. In this case, I think a tiny theater would have given it the intimacy it deserved. It was well acted but a difficult watch if you have ever had a relationshp fall apart (who hasn’t) or been through a divorce. I kind of left feeling worse than when I came in, and these days, I need entertainment which serves as escapism.

I think that just about covers the thoughts floating in my head these past few weeks. I really do feel badly about losing focus, but I also don’t want to force words down which don’t have any feelings behind them. What would be the point of that? I would never want to waste neither my readers’ nor my own time. So please bear with me, and thank you, as I work out what this blog is (and isn’t). I also really appreciate your comments on the last post. I have given the shots a rest, and I do feel better, although I realize it never is just one thing, is it?

p.s. this photo was taken before the brutal heat kicked in — I do hope Vienna’s horses are finally getting a rest. They are not supposed to be working when it is mega hot, but every year you see them being dragged out in already questionable temperatures, unfortunately.