Tone's back....

Some lovely articles on Tony Blair's return to Westminster here, and here, and here.

If you are into equality for women

you might wish to consider signing this petition for a female leader for the EU. Thanks to Wu Wei for finding it.

Then again, is there the talent? The wonderful Grybauskaite from Lithuania should be president of Lithuania, not the EU....

Taking care of Her Majesty's Subjects

Bit surprised to get an email from a colleague, forwarded from a friend of hers, of Foreign Office travel advice in Georgia. It's something to do with demos at the opening of Parliament on 10 June. We've survived the demos since last November, so we'll be ok.....Last time they phoned us the day after the teargas.

But why this means of message transmission? Enquiry to the Embassy reveals that they have a system of 'wardens' who then pass the message on to their 'parish'. On FCO advice, apparently.

Forgive me if this reminds me of 'Dad's Army' - what was the name of that ARP warden? And how do they know that all Brits are reached? I don't know who is my warden, or in which parish I am. Doing things on the cheap again, and getting other people to do their work.

But really, is it rocket science to set up a British resident's mailing list on the computer which includes everyone who has email (most people must do, surely). Someone registers at the Embassy, you pop their name into the mailing list. End of story. Setting it up in the first place might take half a day once....they don't have time for this?

Glad I'm not paying their salaries.

Fleamarket Chic

Dinner last night at the cafe Pur Pur,in Gudiashvili Square, somewhere to the back of Tbilisi Town Hall.It's a beautiful little square, with trees in the middle of it, and this building beside it. In which the restaurant is not. Sharp-eyed viewers will notice that the building is surrounded by a construction fence. Well-informed Tbilisi residents will realise that this will be another charming old building about to bite the dust (one day soon I will blog about capitalism and building preservation).

The restaurant is on another side of
the square. Don't ask me which side, I did not look at where the sun
was when I entered it. It's in an old building, with a pale brown
door, and in the summer the windows are open. Seeing as it does not
have a sign, this is the best I can do for you.

Inside it is fleamarket chic. The
stairs, ancient and unrenovated, are covered by a carpet, the tables
and chairs are a jumble, and the tables are thus positioned that they
are in front of the walls and not of the windows. Which is a shame if
you want to see what's happening outside (which I like). They are
also rather crammed in. But it's quite charming and characterful. Though the tables
for two are so narrow that loving couples can pick each others' noses
without leaning over the table. A nice table for 4 was defended by
the waiting staff with their lives against groups of 2 people, with
the result it remained empty all evening. I managed to wrestle out of them a table for three to seat the two of us, but it was with some difficulty. The proportions of tables
and chairs in relation to each other are such, at least in our case,
that if you are a woman wearing a low-cut outfit, the table preserves
your modesty. Or maybe my friend is just small. The music is of the
'Je ne regrette rien' cafe-music style.

You don't always want to see what's
happening outside, though. While I was waiting for my friend,
suddenly I heard a dog screaming and screaming and screaming. Turned
out that the dog police was taking it away. Now I did not see the dog
they had, but suspect strongly it was the very decrepit-looking dog I
saw on entering the restaurant, who, to be fair, would probably not
have been looking forward to much enjoyment in his life. So it
probably was a kindness. But the screaming will stay with me for a
while. I suppose shooting it in the street, while kinder to the dog,
might not be entirely acceptable. The way the restaurant staff
reacted made me wonder if they had called the dog police?

It was nice that the clientele was all
Georgian, apart from us – I'm not that hot on expat places. Given
that the waiting staff responded in Russian to English requests it
makes sense really. Not intended for the expat market, maybe. Though I do rather like bog-standard Georgian food which this place did not really supply.

People had raved about the food –
especially the soups and the salads, so I tried a soup, a salad and a
main course. The soup, a cold yoghurty cucumber and radish soup, was
all right. Far from a large portion, served in a very large bowl, and
perhaps more chunky than was strictly necessary. If the yoghurt had
been a bit diluted it would not have been a catastrophe. Not sure I
spotted the mint that it was also supposed to contain.

The salad, green leaves with cucumber
and tomato, was ordinary. The dressing was nice, and there were loads
of green leaves, well washed, so we got our chlorophyll for the
evening. But nothing special.

Our main courses – my friend had the
trout, I had the salmon. The poor wee trout...its mum must have not
taken good care of it, so it swam away, and before it knew it, it had
been caught. Much like the dog. Except Master Trout was caught in his
infancy. Or maybe mum had made love to a sardine. With an
accompaniment of something green and shredded carrot it was the
perfect Atkins' meal, though perhaps a bit thin on protein.

My salmon, on spinach came with 4
beautiful new potatoes (n Georgia at the moment we have the most
beautiful new potatoes I have ever seen). So I could afford to pass
two on to my starving friend. The salmon – I'm not convinced it
was salmon, more like sea trout – arrived in two small pieces, smothered in
something rich and white.

The bread was fairly ordinary white and
slightly brown bread, not a lavash in sight (though there was some on
the menu accompanying a different salad). And the service, I hate to
say it, but we waited for our cappuccinos so long that I had
fantasies of someone rushing to Brazil to pick the coffee beans. The
wine was exceptionally cheap. Then again....it reminded me of the
wine I sometimes buy loose.....

The place reminds me of the Art Bridge
in Abovian Street in Yerevan, belonging to an expat Armenian woman.
The atmosphere is similar, sort of slightly Bohemian, full of expats,
Armenian Bohemians and young go-getting things. The Art Bridge did
not change its menu in the three years I was in Armenia, with the
menus becoming more and more stained. It was good for teas and cakes
(oh, the carrot cake!) but less good for main courses. PurPur place
also has potential for a lot of atmosphere, but last night it seemed
rather subdued, with people huddled quietly in little corners
everywhere. Not sure that is entirely characteristically Georgian....

It was nice that at least part of the
menu was seasonal. Let's hope they keep going for fresh produce, and
that the cooking may become a little more inspired.

Drugs Problems

It would appear that members of the
Georgian parliament get drug tested before they are admitted to it
(following the recent election), Rustavi2 reports. Bit unfortunate that a leader of an
opposition part was found to have traces of opium in his blood. He
blames it on a codeine-based medicine he had taken the day before. I
don’t know anything about pharmacology, so who knows if codeine
isn’t really opium. Funny thing is, though, that codeine-based
medicines, like Sudafed, are illegal in Georgia. Personally, had I
been the politician, I would have kicked up a fuss and blamed the
government for planting it on me. This is Georgia!

Budget airline

So, off I tootled to Tbilisi, on the
new direct flight from Vilnius, run by flylal (Lithuanian airways of
whom I may still be an owner, as a Lithuanian taxpayer).

Could do better, I think. It only takes
about 3 hours to fly to Tbilisi, much the same time as it would take
to fly from Vienna to Tbilisi. I don’t understand geography, really
I don’t…..Though I have to admit now (and I'm surprised) that a ticket from Vienna to Tbilisi in July is double the price of the Vilnius to Tbilisi flight. I guess I've seen what I don't pay for in Lithuanian, like....

....the service quality. In
Vilnius airport only a newsagent’s was open when I arrived at 9.30
pm; there are coffee machines, but the chocolate I asked for came
without chocolate. The lady at information had obviously been trained
by the Soviets and shouted at me, so no joy or compensation there.

The face of the passport control was
tripping her up, and she caused some of the Georgians endless delays.
Then we sat around and waited – near a bar, which was closed. And
waited.

Eventually we were let on the plane, a
Boeing 737 (very old model). In my row (7d-f), the seats would not
recline and my joy at being alone and able to stretch out was soon
overcome by the realisation that the arm rests moved sideways, but
not upwards. Missing bits of plastic had been replaced by sticky
tape. Naturally, there was no in-flight entertainment – it really
must be a very old plane. There was not even anything to read in the
seat pocket apart from the safety instruction card.

Then I was horrified that once again we
had to pay for food. Lithuanian has gone through phases – 7 years
ago there was a meal (not sure if it was ever hot), then we had to
pay, then we got a bun, now we have to pay again. For what is
available on the menu – but, in true Soviet style, not everything
is available. And frankly, the quality...

Well, I never

Never realised until just now that Puerto Rico is 'a selfgoverning commonwealth in association with the United States, with the chief of state being the President of the USA'. But thanks to Mrs Clinton, I now know. They are run by a governor and, like the US, a house of representatives and a Senate. The US has responsibility over what in mainland US are federal matters, and the Island bodies look after the rest.

They have no representation in the US government (and some tax exemptions - but it sounds awfully like 'taxation without representation'?).

Which makes me think about 'West Side Story'....'I love to be in America', sung by Puerto Ricans in New York....

A fate that may befall Cuba in time. God help it.