Tetris Tales

A : I'll admit to being unabashedly child like in the view of St Basil's Basilica. It's beautiful pregnant domes sweeping up from the Earth in front of me. I whistle the delightful theme to Tetris as I dream of monstrous blocks of techni-color falling from the sky. So shall I paint my masterpiece on the Kremlin.

Welcome to Moscow, Russia.

When I was a boy growing up in San Francisco I often puzzled at the ostentatious style of my Russian pals. A gold watch, spiked collar, stilleto heels on ladies or shiny diamonds just didn't jive with my parents message of understated.

Now I understand. Cast yourself in a modern Scarface - Range Rovers tearing around tight dark corners - wavering female ankles over 9 inch hot pink heels - white men's slacks bookened by white driving loafers stepping into a new Porsche Cayenne. The young and rich shall play in Moscova, da?

Home to the new oligarch and resplendent with nouveauriche' the area teems with the signs of luxury. C properly noted that sallow skin and blond hair are the lingua franca (russi actually) of this land. While the reality of today is not the dark stern countenance of the USSR of old, and Zangief is nowhere to be found - still the 8 bit GameBoy speaker in my mind bleeps on.