Emigration etc.

As a student of media studies I have to admit that I am way too slow to clue in on some media. Due to the fact that I got my new shiny ipod (yippie!) and had to learn to make friends with it, I happened to discover podcasts. Discover as in EUREKA! Honestly, until now I knew that they work a bit like TV shows and you can subscribe to them and that's about it. Little did I know about the variety of the content available (that's from somebody who lives without a telly, works without the access to the world wide web and usually spends about 2 hours on line a day).

After a few hours of browsing on line, sorting out my iTunes, plugging in and unplugging (hate to brake things and prefer to read manuals first - just to be on the safe side, I know it makes me sound like a bore), I realised that I had been spending way too much time on oftentimes parochial (my hype word of the moment) Lithuanian news websites. Just for the crack of it I even checked out a Dutch one and thought that I quite like the sound of the language - that's all I can get for the moment - the melody of it.

Subscribed to a few.

Forum - A World of Ideas
New Yorker: Out Loud
Thinking Allowed.

Will listen to them on the way to work. Might even try that Dutch one as well. For the sake of melody... The DVD Player is still locked, but I'm discovering the joys of ipodism, which makes me Apple's slave as well, I guess.

About four years ago my photography teacher Jurgita Remeikyte - a renowned visual media artists was showing to a bunch of us - passionate amateurs - portraits of sleeping children. Serene black and white close-ups. Actually, they were not sleeping. Those were dead children and I can't seem to find the artist who took the portraits. One woman who was with me in the course couldn't look at the photographs when she was told that those were dead children.

At the moment I am researching the concept of time for my final NCAD project and one of my main inspirations is the remarkably thought-provoking collection of shorts Ten Minutes Older: The Trumpet and The Cello. I loved the short by Volker Schlöndorff "The Enlightenment" in particular, which is a reflection on Augustine's contemplation about time. For instance, this one:

"In our soul we feel three different times: there is the present of the past, which is remembrance, there is the present of the present, which is contemplation , and there is the present of the future, which is expectation."

After publishing photographs of people before and and just after their death by a German photographer Walter Schels guardian.co.uk traffic-wise experienced its busiest day ever. Death frightens and mesmerises, especially when juxtaposed with life.

"The moments of the past do not remain still; they retain in our memory the motion which drew them towards the future, towards a future which has itself become the past, and draw us on in their train." (Marcel Proust)

I think I have a fetish for vintage gadgets. The other day, as I was passing "Oxfam" in Dundrum on the way to the bank, I couldn't believe when I saw it on the window display. On the very bottom shelf, besides jewellery. Looking so classy and almost new. All azure, with black keyboard. Not quite as vintage as the one in "Naked Lunch", but still - a typewriter. You don't come across them often nowadays. I needed one as a prop for a photoshoot. Well, the photoshoot became an excuse later on, at first I was just admiring the fact of it in the window and for only 20 Euro, even though I'm trying not to surround myself with too many things. And it was before Tom Hanks confessed his passion for them to Jonathan Ross.

Every time I was walking to the bank I was admiring the view of it on that Oxfam window. And then it was gone. That's when I realised I could use it as a prop, but farewell... it was no more. I went to a few other charity shops afterwards feeling like an dinosaur or an alien. Do you ever get typewriters? I was searching for time lost or remembering time lost. Like the other time, when I was doing a social documentary project for NCAD Course and photographing closed cinemas of Dublin. I think, I've calculated about 9, there are probably more.



Carlton on O'Connell Street. Rephotographed black and white handprint.



Stella in Rathmines. Rephotographed black and white handprint



Classic on Harold's Cross. Rephotographed black and white handprint

Last week I embarked on another mission, looking for 120 color slide film for my new Holga. The fact that I bought it for 35 Euro on ebay (shipping included), while the last time I saw them in "Urban Outfitters" they cost about 90 Euro is another story. The fact that apart from this funky shop nobody else seems to be selling them in Dublin, is another, yet even sadder story. Anyway. As some of you might know, a few years ago Agfa discontinued production of all their 120 films, thus the only way some manage to make shots like these is if they were stockpiling them in the attic previously. Therefore if you are looking for colour slide in Dublin, you are left with either Fuji or Kodak. After going to John Gunn, Camera Exchange and a few more decent camera shops in Dublin which seem to be resisting the evolution of photography into point-and-shoot-everybody-is-a-photographer-can-I-see-the-picture digitalisation, I had to sadly face the fact that getting such hazy bluish colours might not be possible while I am in Dublin. In John Gunn (by far the best film photography shop in Dublin with the most-knowledgeable staff) I was told Kodak slides are a bit OTT, while when I popped into a camera shop on Grafton street stupidly hoping that perhaps they might have a few slides secretly concealed on some God-forgotten shelf, I couldn't see anything film there - just memory sticks, basic point and shoot digital cameras and batteries. The fridge with slides was hidden in the staff room. Well, good things mostly are not sold on the high streets, aren't they? Film cameras are not in fashion anymore any way. Or are they?

You don't have to look too far. Go to flickr and enter 'film' or 'plastic camera' or go to my recent discovery Film is not dead, it just smells funny, or the largest pinhole gallery or Lomography... You get the idea. Many of the best film photography works are not even scanable, like these ones by my first (and best so far) photography teacher Jurgita Remeikyte. Some of photography works are not even recordable, like this one on BBC's Genius of Photography - watch minutes 4-6.

Of course, digital photography is cheaper, more accessible, easier and more 'sharable'. You just have to upload it to flickr and voila! Everybody is a photographer. You manipulate the pictures till they become sickly plastic and you hear 'wow'.

12 years ago Julian Stallabrass in his remarkable book "Gargantua. Manufactured Mass Culture" said that around 60 billion photographs are taken every year and with the arrival of domestic computer manipulation 'every sunset will be perfect'. There was much truth in his words, wasn't there? And that was before digital cameras cost a few hundred euros and almost all mobile phones had one integrated. Digital made photography a kind of a quickie. Point. Shoot. Upload. Print. In fact how many photographs are not even uploaded, just looked at on the back screen of our better or worse digital cameras.

At present, between three and five million photographs are uploaded to flickr.com every day. And then there is stock photography, blogs, etc... Recent cover story in "Monocle" convinced me that I'm not some nostalgic freak. Did you know that in Japan - the pioneer of digital photography - mainstream media oftentimes still uses film? And that one of the best photographers ever and one of my favourite ones - Hiroshi Sugimoto - it is being said, stockpiles rolls of film in a freezer. After some research and doubt I discovered that it is possible.

Of course, film per se doesn't attribute a photograph as a work of art. Just like digital does not make it less. It's just sad to see film disappearing so quickly. The first digital cameras for mass consumer were introduced less than 15 years ago and now almost everybody has one. We all have become photographers. When I took a picture of my 6-year-old nephew with my N65, he instantly said 'let me see the picture'. Now he knows his auntie is a bit of a freak, fiddling with plastic cameras and searching for what is no more in Dublin camera shops. Well, I got a slide film finally. Fujifilm Astia, Velvia and Provia are still quite widely available. Yet when cross-processed they can be a bit too indigo or too ruby. At least so far. Yet this is what I love about film, slide and cross-processing. No matter, what is the level of your control, it always comes a bit as a surprise. Although I still have digital (for quickies....) it is this bit of organic magic that makes me stick to film. And pay tributes to time lost. In the meantime - say cheese.



My first slide roll of Holga. Raheny. Dublin

All photos©Lina Zigelyte

Newstalk 106 to108. Kitokia tauta - kitoks radijas.

The immigrants, including myself, are taking over the radio! Reacting to the fact that Ireland is becoming more intercultural than ever, Newstalk embarked on a mission to record their slogan "Different Nation - Different Station" in the languages of the largest immigrant groups of Ireland. Which makes Lithuanian one of them with (officially) over 25 000 of us here. So if you hear a sexy voice on one of those incomprehensible jingles, that could possibly be me talking to you. Thanks to my executive editor Chinedu Onyejelem I got a chance to represent Lithuanian version. Although it was tempting to babble some random stuff and to see how long it would take to discover that for Newstalk, I behaved and enjoyed my 5 seconds of fame. A look through the newsrooms made me wonder once again what on earth am I doing in a wine shop. Yet hey - I've got my window on the world here. And I got my 5 seconds of fame.

When I saw Primal's suggestion to nominate my modest reflections on living in Ireland in the best "Blog by a Journalist" category for Irish Blog awards 2008 I was obviously flattered. Hell, yeah.

Of course, as Primal admits, you can have doubts on whether I could qualify. I have some doubts as well - I believe out there, in the Irish cyberspace, there must be more journalists with more articulate English and plenty of time to ponder about zillions of issues. Yet it is up to you to decide and come to a conclusion in a debate what criteria define you as a journalist in this era of blogging, Current TV, You Tube, etc. Do you have to belong to the mainstream or can you be a voice in the wilderness while remaining independent? If everything goes well and I have a bit of luck, as of September I might plunge myself into a more academic research on this subject. Or continue a life of a mongrel with occasional posts on this blog...

On the other hand, Primal mentions the fact that there are not many non Irish journalists working in Irish media.

Amelie Mouton in her story "Why no news isn't good news for Ireland's ethnic journalists" published in 2006 in the annual magazine of Metro Eireann - Ireland's multicaltural newspaper - points out that the National Action Plan Against Racism asks for "positive actions" towards the recruitment of journalists from cultural and ethnic minorities. Yet a well-known Irish journalists, who's name is not disclosed, observes in the story that "Irish journalism does seem to be drawn from the white middle classes nearly exclusively - unless you count Protestans and Scots, there are not ethnic minorities represented in my staff".

In a way it is understandable - a little more than 20 years ago Ireland was almost exclusively Irish. I remember and Irish woman once told me that when she went to London about 25 years ago she was startled by the variety of people over there - never before she had seen so many shades of skin and heard people speaking English in so many different ways.

For the past five years Irish society has been experiencing vast changes. About 10 percent of the population today are foreigners. It is widely seen in cafes, "Penny's", construction sites and supermarkets. But not as much in the media.

Of course, immigration issues are being covered. The usual ones: possible layoffs, abuse of immigrants as cheap labor force, accidents, caused by drunk Eastern European drivers, other criminal offenses, etc. Yet apart from these clichéd news there is so much more worth feature stories, photographs, broadcasts and documentaries.

Seamus Dooley of the National Union of Journalists in a story mentioned above said that the main barriers preventing the mainstream press from taking on ethnic journalists are language barriers and a possible lack of knowledge about Ireland's socio-political background on the migrants' behalf. I'll tick for the language, yet many migrants have experienced that socio-political background themselves, therefore the last argument could be disputed. On the other hand, why not give a chance for foreigners trained as journalists and with previous work experience to gain more knowledge of that kind while they carry in-depth research? Many of them speak more than one language and know plenty of personal stories. Besides, we all know that journalists are jacks of all trades, yet masters of none and they all learn as they go.

I'm no expert in immigration and I am not a typical immigrant myself. A virtual friend of mine in Lithuania expressed a wish for a blog that would describe emigration process from day zero in a foreign country. As she said, the first slap in the face and the first applause.

A blog of this kind would be immensely popular. There are still many myths associated with emigrants in my country: hearsay about pay, living conditions, Irish, etc. If blogged honestly (therefore probably anonymously), it would offer the best chance to satisfy virtual voyeurism. If blogged in proper English, it would be phenomenally popular in the British Isles. Either way stories we - virtual voyeurs - would like to hear would probably never reach that blog. If blogged honestly and in the native language, most likely it wouldn't come from some mushroom factory. Even if internet access was available, blogging still requires some sort of ability to write. As another virtual friend of mine has observed, ability to write quite often does not coincide with the capability to tell something and vice versa. In terms of blogging in English, although I am convinced there are more people capable of doing that than we encounter today (non-native speakers), again those things we would like to read - everyday immigrant stories - would probably never make it to such a blog, just because they wouldn't happen to somebody who emigrates with more than basic knowledge of English. It would become a boring blog - with no bad news.

At first my blog was an attempt to highlight some of the issues Eastern Europeans have to face in Ireland. I should probably write more about the likes of my friend who came over to Ireland in November. For the past three months she had been working in an Eastern European grocery shop for less than the minimum wage, doing about 60 hours a week and without a single pay slip. I could also mention that they sell spirits from behind the counter and whoever speaks Russian can ask for a pack of 200 cigarettes for half the regular retail price. But I'm sure these stories will get to be covered someday by those who thoroughly know Ireland's socio-political background.

On the other hand, as I say in my profile, getting stuck in the topic of migration is easy, therefore I try to cover other issues as well, resisting the temptation to become too serious, too issue-focused. I'm learning to respect the readers - the second keyword bringing readership to my Lithuanian blog is "boobies" (because of a story about a character played by a Lithuanian actress doing it in "The Tudors" , shall I say, in a very open way - my suspicion was no English actress would have signed up for it). Therefore you might encounter more juicy material in the near future on this blog as well.

Whichever was the reason, a few weeks before Christmas I received and email from the deputy editor of Metro Eireann deputy editor offering to write about Lithuanians in Ireland. She said she had found my blog and thought it was very interesting. It wasn't all in vain, I guess... :)

If you think this blog deserves the spot in the nominations for the Irish Blog Awards 2008, mention me in any of the categories you think I qualify for. Or otherwise, please come back. Thanks for stopping by.

What's the most annoying thing about immigrants coming to Dublin? Their unhappiness with the city. Especially Eastern Europeans. Would you agree? I catch myself doing that sometimes, or perhaps even often. But whenever I encounter such bellyachings I try to say (and to myself): come on, but you are not chained to the Spire and the flights are cheap!

On the other hand, I suppose the easiest way to stop complaining is to start looking for bonus points. Among other ones (Irish hospitality, sense of humor, ability to always have a story to tell, sublime nature (if it doesn't rain...), the sea, variety of wine and beer (that's in comparison to Lithuania), "Laser" DVD rental, etc.) I would like to add one more thing, which I discovered today. Dublin Docklands, in particular the right bank (if you stand facing the sea).

© me

To be honest, I've never been on the right bank before, mostly I stayed on the left one. Of course, the area can't compare to Copenhagen yet, where modern architecture is flourishing, but since today the light was extraordinary, glass constructions looked so refreshingly different to traditional Dublin: pubs, shabby pubs and more pubs. In fact architecture is one of those things I miss most when in Ireland and although Docklands are still expanding, the area seems to be promising. Just more terraced cafes needed, some trees, a few exhibition centres, bookshops and ... Imagination has no limits. I just hope construction companies and local government will realize that it would be great not to get stuck with apartments and office buildings only.

There is another reason I am so hyper about Dublin today. A journalist writing for the website I was working for before came to Dublin recently and yesterday she posted some photos from Dublin and captions for them in the editorial blog. I feel an obligation to mention and translate a few, since they are unexpectedly positive! And truth be told, they reminded me some good things about the city I've been living in for the past two years and a half. Here is Dublin as seen by a Lithuanian journalist Egle Digryte:

* Some fountains remind artworks rather than just mere architectural solutions. (she mentioned this one in particular)

* Footprints or handprints on the pavement look very playful.

* Dublin is incredibly colorful. (Here I would like to comment that it is Georgian doors that make that impression, in my opinion Dublin is quite monotonous, just plenty of red brick)

* Houses with climbing ivies on them.

* There are more plants and flowers in Dublin than in any other major city she has been to.

Despite the fact that the journalist came to conclusion she wouldn't like to live in Dublin, these are definitely some of the facts I will try to remember next time before starting another rant about the Irish capitol Dublin.

Nelson Mandela, Aung San Suu Kyi, Desmond Tutu, Andrei Sakharov, Martin Luther King, Albert Schweitzer, Mother Teresa, Al Gore.

It is hard not to start feeling god-like when you make it to the list above. Love him or hate him, as Times Online remarks, you have to give credit to Mr Al Gore, the man who introduces himself "I used to be the next president of the United States". Although, as "Guardian" notes, 2007 is his annus miraculous with Oscar for his film "An Inconvenient Truth", Emmy for his Current TV channel and now the most prestigious prize on Earth in his pocket, everybody remembers his over the top moments, as for instance, when he told to CNN that "during service in the United States Congress [he] took the initiative in creating the Internet."

As today is Blog Action Day with about 15 000 blogs pondering about the environment and over 12 mln readers consuming that information, Al Gore's subject seems to be rather relevant.

It takes a while of googling in order to find out speculations about how much he charges for giving a speech (with somebody in the Letters to the editor section in the "Toronto Star" mentioning 125,000) or the origin of his wealth. There isn't much about the latter in Wikipedia, is there?

Al Gore became a senior adviser to Google back in February 2001, and is a close friend of CEO Dr. Eric Schmidt. Google shares went public in 2004, and the stock has soared from $85 a share to more than $400. Co-founders Sergey Brin and Larry Page are worth an estimated $11 billion each.
Al Gore "owns a ton of Google and he's made enough money that he could wait until a month before and just drop $50 million in to launch a [2008 Presidential] race," a well-placed Democrat told Deborah Orin of the New York Post.
And then there are the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, who like a bunch of other famous artists and musicians during "Live Earth" kept mentioning Al Gore's name over and over again. In fact so often, that I had to fast forward the clips quite a few times.
Al Gore's supporters keep stressing that he started speaking about global warming and it's reasons long long before anybody else did. As if he wasn't doing this just in order to publicize himself.
In "Vanity Fair" green issue this May one of the most important voices among skeptics of global-warming Myron Ebell, the think tank the Competitive Enterprise Institute (C.E.I.), mentioned that amount of money floating in anti global-warming campaigns is enormous.
"The major environmental groups in [the USA] have budgets of collectively over $1 billion a year," he said. "[C.E.I.] budget is $3.7 million a year, of which only about a quarter goes to global warming. Add up the other [global-warming denier] groups and maybe you can get to $10 million."

Somehow, despite these monstrous figures, I tend to doubt that Al Gore is after money. When you own Google's shares you hardly need them. In that case he's either driven by share vanity (**** you Mr. George W. Bush, I'm not the president of the USA, but the whole world is listening to me, falling for my statements and drowning me in the sea of awards) or good will.

Of course, there are ongoing speculations of him running for the post of the President of the USA. In that case this whole apparatus - the movie, the TV channel (which I thing is groundbreaking), "Live Earth" and speeches could possibly be the best PR campaign ever. Yet even if it is, it's not that hard to listen to his words and start changing the world around yourself. By turning of your PC, the lights, recycling, ditching your car for a bike (at least once a week), buying organic produce, putting waste in the bins provided, etc. As one gargantuan supermarket chain claims, every little helps. It does. Indeed. Even if you dislike populists.

Whenever I encounter a foreigner who has visited Lithuania more or less recently I ask them how was it. Don't want to sound full of myself, but majority seem to like it there. Even my Polish friend's friends who had visited Wilno (that's how Polish call the capital Vilnius - it belonged to Poland for a while anyway) said that they liked it. When they have Krakow it is hard for us to compete... Anyhow.

A lovely elderly couple walked into the shop today and they mentioned that they had been in Vilnius in 2000. After saying that I will be going there shortly, they remarked that the place must be quite different now.

"There must be more prosperity now, possibly like in Ireland," they commented and chuckled.

"I hope not too much of prosperity," was my reply and they smiled.

That is my honest hope and prayer.

I've been living in Ireland for over two years now and I have seen so many people who were born into money (is that the way the saying goes?) that it nearly gets scary. My sister came back from Paris last spring and she said that just by judging the amount of new cars in the streets Paris looks like a shabby place compared to Dublin. Yet she came back from Lithuania a month ago and said that she was amazed by the quantity of luxury cars on the roads there...

Now I have nothing against new cars or new houses. I am just dumbfounded at the speed at which Ireland is turning to a classic consumerist society. Somehow I get even more conscious about it when I return from countries who have been rich for a long time, i.e. Denmark. As we were walking the streets of Copenhagen in July with a friend of mine, both of us remarked that it looks like in Dublin people live just for the sake of SHOPPING and DRINKING.

Of course, they do shop and drink in Copenhagen or Strasbourg, yet in Dublin quite often you get the feeling that people stay alive just by talking about prices, selling or buying. The amount of places selling coffee 2 go is booming - what about funky little cafes where you can sit and relax inside or outside and just have a good coffee without the need of purchasing a sandwich? Not those chain cafes - Insomnias or Starbucks... Alas - everybody is rushing to sell or buy, thus there's no time for un café...

When in the shop, now and again we chat with customers about the future of Ireland. Just like the newspapers we keep wondering how long this economic boom will last. Quite a few people (mostly those who are older and who have travelled a bit) mention that the growth of economy was so rapid you can hardly believe it would last for long. It's like a genetically modified chicken - so young yet so big, but somehow missing the real flavor.

I find Ireland getting more and more similar to the clichéd image of the USA - McDonald's, drive-ins, drive-throughs, to-goes, buy-2-get-1-frees. I spend therefore I live - the infectious slogan of new economies. That's what I mean by saying I hope Lithuania doesn't get too prosperous.

I know I am not making too much sense, therefore I suggest to read the last two issues of my favorite magazine "Monocle" - the previous one is about the cities that offer the best quality of life and the current issue is about building a country.

I hope somebody in charge of Lithuania's future reads them too...

Since it looks like Sean Moncrieff (I still find his voice very unradio) is on holidays, the air belongs to Adele King aka Twink aka a woman behind this. Well, you Irish should know this story well enough, I only learned about the "you fat, bald middle aged dickhead" phonecall yesterday.

Despite all the feelings we might have for the woman, on a Friday afternoon, as I was buying a baguette, a tomato and "Magnum" ice cream in the "Spar" next door, I happened to overhear that they are talking about Lithuanian beer in "MOVIES AND BOOZE SLOT". As a matter of fact, even two of them - "Švyturys" [pronounce a la Shveatoorease] and "Utenos" [pronounced rather like Ootenos than Youtenos].

I have no idea how they pick the booze to be reviewed. Needless to say, I was delighted... For those who are not familiar - the beers above are similar to a good German lager. Proper beer as I say :) Let's say Pilsner vs Miller or Heineken vs Coors. You get the idea...

As far as I know, "O'Briens" stocks some of these, otherwise you can find it in "Whealans' Off Licence" and obviously in Lithuanian or Polish shops in town. The only drawback in the latter shops - the sales people there don't seem to be very friendly... On the other hand, when you have so many nationalities coming to a shop like this it is puzzling to pick a greeting or a farewell in a right language...

PS
It is time for Twink to look up at the map of Europe - "Staropramen" is not a Czechoslovakian beer. This country does not exist as of 1st January 1993. "Staropramen" is Czech.

Usually we would read Decanter or Wine & Spirits. One can only guess how a glossy magazine with hot girls wearing nothing but tight-fitting hosiery, lace bras, an extensive amount of makeup and sporting hard nipples found its way to a wine shop. Ah well... Must be a customer...

I wouldn't be able to reveal you the origin of the magazine, yet it seems it has something to do with Playboy. A supplement perhaps.

However, as I was flipping through it, my sixth sense was whispering to me I should encounter a Lithuanian girl in these pages. And voilà. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Giorgita.



So what, you might say? Nada. For further details please look at my previous posts here and here.

Somehow I am always taken by surprise when I encounter Lithuanians in the Economist, Newsweek or The New York Times. Actually it doesn't happen often... Unlike in the publications mentioned above... On the other hand, they are the greatest PR campaign for our tourism industry.

It's a tranquil afternoon in Dun Laoghaire. The sea is about two hundred yards away and the tide never seems to be present here. Delightful. In front of me - a slightly too watery latte (made by a Polish guy who seems to be new in the cafe, ah well, I'll just give him time). It looks like something went terribly wrong with the air conditioning - judging by the reaction at the table next to me I am not the only one thinking the smell is somewhat reminiscent of pooh.

I have to admit Primal Sneeze is right. I am suffocating in frustration. Especially for the past couple of months. I guess the fact that I got a chance to travel this year more than ever (thus the balance in my credit card is zero) had influenced my feelings as well. I know, it is not Cambodia or Argentina (yet), just Krakow, Seville, Italy (Interrailing from Valle d'Aosta to Palermo and back up North) and Denmark (Odense & Copenhagen). Hope you have enjoyed the pictures.

In other words I have been busy exploring the continent and whenever I come back to Éire I have to face the bitter fact that Dublin is a part of an island. Not only just geographically. Despite the fact Dublin makes it to majority of various polls in Europe estimating the possibilities for job seekers and the quantity of happy people living here (and most of the time it's in the top 10 at least) there are still many things to be improved.

As I was reading the list of 20 most liveable cities in the world announced in the last issue of Monocle at work (during those lazy afternoon hours), many customers expectantly were asking if Dublin had made it to the list. I had to disappoint them. The criteria for selecting the cities(sustainability, medical care, public transport, local media, access to international media, environmental initiatives among others) were exactly the ones where Dublin needs a huge push forward.

Bellow are the cities in declining order that, according to Monocle, are the most liveable in the world:

Munich
Copenhagen
Zurich
Tokyo
Vienna
Helsinki
Sydney
Stockholm
Honolulu
Madrid
Melbourne
Montreal
Barcelona
Kyoto
Vancouver
Auckland
Singapore
Hamburg
Paris
Geneva

Despite the fact that almost all of them belong to countries that have high GDP per capita and wages far greater than the ones in Lithuania, it looks like economic factors were not the most essential ones for Monocle. And I take my hat off for that.

By the way, does anybody remember the 178-nation "Happy Planet Index" which reveals the the south Pacific island of Vanuatu with a population of 209 000 is the happiest nation on the planet, while the UK is ranked 108th? The index is based on consumption levels, life expectancy and happiness, rather than national economic wealth measurements such as GDP.

However let's come back to Dublin. I believe everybody could sketch a must-do list which could improve living here. On the other hand a temporary infatuation with a country were you've spent a mere week and living in it most of the time turn out to be two totally different stories. Conclusion - Dublin is great yet it has the potential to become greater and on a vast scale it all will depend on the generation to come. I hope this generation stops scratching the balls (a sight seen on the streets of Dublin more often than in any other city I have been to) and starts using the hands to build a better country. Their parents gave them the Celtic Tiger. What are they going to give to their own children apart passion for Guinness and GAA?

Now don't get me wrong. I deliberately posted this beforehand. Yet I have to assert that constant state of happiness for me is unfamiliar. Therefore (some might say driven by frustration) recently I did the following:

* A couple of weeks ago I applied for a Photography and Digital Imaging course in the National College of Art and Design. As always is the case in Dublin the 24-week-long course should cost what each year of full-time BA studies in photography costs in the Netherlands. One doesn't have to be Susan Sontag to distinguish the level of photography over there and here, in the Emerald Island. The course, after researching the works of the graduates of the college, seems to be one of the best in Dublin and without the promises to teach you to make pretty shots. Fingers crossed...

* Applied for volunteering in Dun Laoghaire Festival of World Cultures. Last year I was over the moon as I watched buskers banging congos, a violinist Oleg Ponomarev in leather trousers, who brought the house down playing Russian//Gyspy music and Congolese guitar wizard Niwel Tsumbu. Many visitors of the festival said they did not expect such a cultural fiesta in an island. This year should be just as good, although what a shame, Lithuanians do not participate again on a larger scale and I don't know whom to blame anymore - our embassy or the lack of initiative in our Ministry of culture or artists themselves... As for me I am getting an M size T-shirt and a badge "Volunteer". Hopefully the boss will be happy enough to give me a weekend off...

There are a few more things but I will keep them undisclosed for a while.

So I guess frustration is THE driving force for me.

Blessed are those who are busy from 8 am till 5 pm and drunk afterwards, for they shall have no time to ask wrong questions.

Blessed are those who fall asleep without wondering what they might dream about for they shall fall asleep immediately.

Blessed are those who fall in love with those who are imperfect and don't attempt to change them for they shall have less grey hair to pluck.

Blessed are those who are not frustrated for they shall live in contentment.

PS
I promise - no more mentioning of frustration :)

Emigration/Immigration is like the army. You start off as a private x and if you happen to get into the right circumstances, if you have balls to take advantage of them and if Ms Success becomes your best friend, you can even advance to becoming a general. Even the president of Lithuania Mr Valdas Adamkus started off in the USA as a blue collar worker in a Chicago factory of car parts.

Once you emigrate life starts evolving in certain phases:

* Workaholism
* Wanking
* Musing (in other words meditations on either to come back home or find a "real" job)
* Rebellion (when you knock on every door possible desperate to get that "real" job)
* Desperation (when you realize nobody is going to welcome you with hands wide open)
* Stubborness (when you persist and finally decide to go to study despite the fact you think you already know everything, but you realize this is to become your major trump card in a competitive labour market)
* etc,
* etc,
* etc,
until a possible "happy end".

Some of us get stuck in the phase of workaholism, others progress in wanking, only some of us reach the critical point of rebellion and only a handful make it through the phase of desperation. Obviously if nappies get in your way life takes a U turn. And the phase of musing is destined to repeat now and again.

There is a relatively new website in Lithuania that calls itself Lithuanian journalists' website (despite the fact it omits the largest online news magazine in the country in its links). A recent debate on the website was brought to my attention by a good virtual friend of mine who is also the author of one of the best Lithuanian blogs (and I am really looking forward to an English one - damn our ancient language).

Anyway. The point of the debate was whether journalists who have emigrated and possibly are picking strawberries in UK farms should still be called journalists or not.

You see, in my country journalists are playing gods since people stopped believing in the state, government or Parliament. The most recent Eurobarometer polls reflect that 79 percent of Lithuanians don't trust the Parliament (as opposed to the average of 43 percent in the EU), 67 percent don't trust the Government (as opposed to the average of 53 in the EU). On the other hand the level of trust in the mass media is way larger than that of the average EU citizen.

As a result a tag "journalist" is highly influential. Many get the taste of domination and manipulation with public opinion while still in their 20s. Some are not 30 yet but they've already tried pretty much every single kind of media in the country, they've worked in all major newspapers, TV stations and radio (the joys of young democracy - diversity, or perhaps as the saying goes we're jacks of all trades yet masters of none). And in a country where the main language is a language spoken by a mere 3 mln people this can become an issue if you aspire to be more than a jack of all trades. Thus some pack their suitcases and leave. Of course if we were an English speaking country (like UK, the USA or Ireland) hordes of us would be flooding the BBC, the Guardian, Sky News and the likes. But alas, it is not easy to become a journalist in a foreign country. What's left is strawberry fields, wine shops and white table cloths. And once you start in that stage it is up to you if you want to move up the ladder. But that is the advantage of Western countries - an opportunity to start everything all over again.

Perhaps I am young and dumb, but I admire the so called "American dream" stories. After all even the father of American press journalism Joseph Pulitzer came to the USA without much English and spend many hours in the library in front of the dictionary before revolutionising The New York World.

Good bye, arrivederci, adios amigos, ou revoir, auf wiedersehen, пока, uz redzesanos, slán leat, ha det bra...

The saga of nearly a hundred Roma who had been camping besides one of the busiest Irish motorways for over two months ended on Wednesday evening, as the plane took off from Dublin airport.

There were no riots, their farewell seemed to be quieter than a Saturday night in Temple Bar (the heart of Dublin's night life). Once Roma arrive in Romania, they will be transported by bus to their respective home villages.

"If you are going to work, welcome," wrote Anne Byrne in a letter to the Irish Independent. "If you are here to benefit from a better welfare system than you have in your own country, then go back and work on improving your own country, don't bleed ours dry."

One might start questioning Irish tolerance, but this story for me is an example of diplomacy - a mere fact of the problem solved peacefully should become an example for any country who is facing similar issues.

When this story broke many were saying that the problem of Roma integration should be solved on the EU level. I can't but agree with that and in a way I am happy I am not the one in the position to implement changes. I just have a funny feeling if this doesn't happen, Roundabout Roma saga might start all over again.

Finally.

"Human crisis or welfare tourism". The front page of The Irish Times supplement Weekend Review on the 21st of July. Alison Healy's story about 32 Roma adults and 22 children encamped on M50 motorway roundabout near Dublin airport.



It is Ireland's busiest road and Roma have been living here since early May. It took nearly three months to break Irish patience and now the story is all over the place: The Irish Times, BBC, The Observer, etc.

Like a refugee camp

According to The Observer, conditions at the camp have deteriorated over the past few days. The scene resembles the slums of an Asian city rather than 21st-century Ireland.

The air around the two camps reeks of human excreta and rotting food; children as young as two play in mud and filth; grass verges to either side of the families' makeshift shelters are covered in rubbish and colonies of tiny flies attach themselves to anything that moves. The tents they sleep in have been flooded during the recent heavy rains. A number of parents have even put down discarded posters from the last general election; one child could be seen last Thursday having a nap on top of a picture of Taoiseach Bertie Ahern.

Last Thursday two children from the camps were taken to Temple Street Hospital in central Dublin following an outbreak of severe vomiting and diarrhoea. Non-governmental organisations campaigning for the Roma to stay in the state have claimed that there is a danger of disease breaking out.


Photo by J P. Ireland Photoline

In A. Healy's words, the conditions resemble a refugee camp, but when the people are asked why they don't take up a Government offer to be flown home, the answer is always the same. "I no want to go back to Romania. I die from the hunger in Romania. Here I have somewhere where I can sleep", says one of these Roma people in English which far exceeds many Lithuanians' and Poles' who have been flooding Ireland since 2004 - after being accepted to the EU.

Finito to welfare tourism

Unlike Lithuanians or citizens of any of 10 countries who joined the EU in 2004 Romanians and Bulgarians are restricted from working in Ireland unless they have a work visa or are self-employed, although they do have freedom of movement within the EU. They are not entitled to social welfare payments, child benefits or emergency accommodation.

It seems that Irish government has learned from its previous mistakes when in the years before my country had joined the EU hundreds of my fellow-citizens surged towards the generous embrace of the Celtic Tiger. Some of them on the claims that they've been blackmailed by gypsies were seeking asylum here (and I happened to witness such an interview in the Department of Justice as a translator). If their wives gave birth to a child prior the decision thanks to the newborn baby they would become residents of Ireland and thus get the right to work. The days of "welfare tourism" are way behind now.

Romanians are not among the supporters

Pavee Point - a group supporting Irish Travellers' in Ireland - seems to be have become the main voice in the fight for Government's intervention in the "Roundabout Roma" situation. "They don't need Hilton Hotel, they just want one chance to work", The Irish Times quotes George Dancea, director of the Roma support Group, which was set up by Pavee Point Traveller's Centre. Pavee Point is also calling on the Government to provide emergency accommodation for the group.

This call is supported by 20 non-governmental organizations, yet strangely (?) enough the Romanian Community of Ireland is not among them. Quite the contrary. The groups' chairman Vasile Ross points out that if the Government gives in to Pavee Point's pressure, more Roma will come. And some figures say that there might be about 2 mln of them in Romania alone. "This is how Roma work. They will try to gain access. Give them a finger and they will take both hands", says Vasile Ross in The Irish Times.

If you aspire for a job, you'll get one

Tolerance and bloodsucking slothfulness are two totally different things. Let me remind you that before my country had joined the EU hundreds and quite possibly thousands of Lithuanians arrived to Ireland seeking to work illegally. For cash, yet half the amount of the minimum wage, without paying taxes, blue-collar workers sweating in unbearable conditions in mushroom processing factories in the Northern Ireland, students with Master's degrees working as kitchen porters in order to save money for Ph.D studies, husband's leaving their wives back home and doing nightshifts while meditating how they'll make love again in the newly refurbished house, etc.

I've always believed if somebody wants to work and is prepared to work hard, one will find the job. Let me ask you then why those gypsies who beg on Grafton Street in the heart of Dublin city don't? Why they make their 8-year-old children beg (and I've seen this)?


Flights, benefits and possibly free housing offered... in Romania

A spokesman for the group on the roundabout confirmed to the BBC they had been offered free flights back to Romania by the Irish Government, but none of them wanted to return. They were also promised by the Romanian government that they would have health and education benefits and would be considered for free housing.

Romanian embassy officials in Dublin say they are embarrassed by the activities of the gypsies, many of whom are begging on the streets of Dublin. The embassy, according to The Irish Times, even doubts "Roundabout Roma" claims that their living conditions in Romania were unbearable. According to the embassy sources, the families had sold their houses to fund their trip to Ireland.

15 days left

On the 21st of July, at around 5.30 am, Garda National Immigration Bureau (GNBI) officers served immigration papers on 86 Roma people camping in Ballymun. The group have 15 days to make representations to Minister for Justice Brian Lenihan as to why he should not make a removal order, in which case they would be transported back to Romania.

New Irish Government faces a very tough challenge now. Ireland previously has made decisions which earned this country the name of a Celtic Tiger. The Gordian Knot on M50 is a test that questions Tiger's courage and determination. And the situation is being observed by 2 mln. Roma in Romania and the whole EU, who previously had doubts about accepting Romania to the club and I am convinced Roma people were one of the main reasons for these reservations. But let me remind just once again - tolerance and bloodsucking slothfulness are two totally different things.

Ok. You have your suitcase packed. You've just had an appointment with a dentist (this will keep you going for half a year until you come back). You're sporting a new pair of shiny glasses and a new haircut. Passport and ticket in your pocket.

"Now what?", they ask you before you get on the plane. "What will you do for a living over there?"

It all kicks off with a CV.

Your name.

Skip the letters that don't belong to the local alphabet. Abbreviate your last name. Modify the first one. Become another Paddy, John or Amy. Who cares about the name anyway?

Work experience.

It must be relevant to the position you are applying for. Don't expect anything posh. Miracles don't happen in a day. Otherwise half of the more than average journalists you know from home would be applying for jobs in BBC. PR people would be knocking on the doors of those who partake in making something like this and finance analysts would be doing anything to get in HSBC or the likes.

Perhaps the best ones might even turn out to be lucky. Yet few even try - many choose rather to become local celebrities than international mediocrities. Thus we have 30-year-old journalists who act like gods, love to pose for local celebrity photographers and drive new BMWs. The result - our TV stations tend to focus barely on cheap reality TV shows (they sell) and our reporters can't afford to research for a story for a month (actually, it is the editors and the bookkeepers who can't afford it). Journalists get wasted with MPs, editors go to Majorca with those who advertise on the front page and reality TV shows produce journalists. On the other hand who cares about good quality media? Prime time is given to crime investigations anyway.

Back to the CV.

Since you're not applying for a job in RTE or "Irish Independent" and only want to get those alluring 8.65/hour voila you state your relevant experience. Your summer in the USA and the tables you've waited over there, places you used to go to for a pint back home (nobody examines the facts in your CV anyway) and a few months of experience of making latte in some Dublin cafe.

If you are a bloke you go into construction - they make more than the minimum wage (so ***ing sexist) or into IT if you have any idea about PCs (***ing computer geeks).

You might include the fact you've been working as a news editor for the largeset news portal in the country (a sort of Lithuanian BBC). But it was not in Ireland so who should care?

There's little point to mention a couple of months spent in the national radio as a reporter either. It was not RTE anyway. Besides you're not applying for a reporter's position (although you might consider it later).

Education

Don't bother with subjects taken, just mention having received the degree. In any case nobody knows your university.

Hobbies and other details worth or not mentioning

Make sure your contact phone number is on the very top of the page, bright and clear.

God forbid don't put your photo on the CV (an especially common trend among Eastern Europeans).

For Christ's sake skip "traveling" or "taking pictures" - it sounds so dull. Worth mentioning yoga.

If by the time you hand in the CV you can have a basic conversation with the manager of x cafe in English, it is magic! Don't give up if nobody has called you, print lots of copies and knock on many doors. It is nearly impossible to fail in this economic boom.

After a couple of years you might even chance to apply for a more demanding job - in order for the local celebrities you have left back home not to call you a failure. Perhaps you could even turn out to become an international mediocrity after all...

If above these lines you see an ad of sexy Baltic girls this is the reason why I've been hesitant about launching AdSense.

This also backs my opinion that women so far have been the best export in Lithuania. No wonder sometimes I prefer not to reveal the country of my origin.

On the other hand if you like 90x60x90 blonds go on - click on the links! You might find the love your life, I might earn some cash. We'll see if AdSense turns out to be a leprechaun after all.

A soon-to-be-deported Israeli vice girl - whose forthcoming novel ‘Confessions of a Celtic Tiger Call Girl’ will be published anonymously by Opportunity Press spills the beans on her many high-profile Irish clients.

As confessed to Lorcan Roche of "Mongrel":

***

What does it matter to you, my name? You have all called me so many names in your accents, and whining voices. Horrible, Irish names (Seoige! Ni Bheolain!), Jewish ones too (Sharon!). You called me names as studio sweat and make-up and liquid guilt ran down your candy-striped arses, arses you paid me to whip and insert objects into. Like a torn-up contract for a better Ireland, while you pulled down your Lycra cycling shorts, halfway, and pumped the air.

You called me ‘Glenda’. You made me arch one eyebrow, like Dr. Spock. You made me scrub your pink skin raw, then rub Wintergreen ointment on your member while you babbled about ‘controlled passion’. You made me dress in an English rugby jersey, then you beat me with a copy of LIFE magazine. When you came, without warning, you screamed ‘Stringer! Stringer!’... What does this mean? Should I have tied you with cheap string, the kind my mother wrapped around my battered suitcase the day I left my homeland?

You came to me in the morning, sweating from the studio lights at RTÉ and you made me eat linguine and clams, three bowls, and you wanted me to confess in minute detail what other RTÉ presenters had requested, and it thrilled you (especially what Derek had asked for) and your greedy eyes grew wide and you wanted to see me with olive oil drizzling on my chin, like you often have on TV, except of course you have several chins. My God, I will never forget your lips, so big, and rubbery. They moved this way, and that, on my body, and your tongue was visible, always, like a ferret trying to escape from a ball of silly putty.

You came to me from RTÉ in the afternoon, and you crawled on the floor below me and looked up with real fear in your eyes, and you moaned ‘Grainne, Grainne’ and you asked me to dress in leather and to humiliate you, and to speak with a sexy lisp. Humiliating a grown man, even a redhead, and speaking in a sexy lisp at the same time is hard. But, after watching the show I mastered it. It’s about attitude, heels, and self-belief.

You came straight from the law library, wearing a pinstripe suit. You made me jump up and down for hours to Michael Flatley’s music, wearing a blonde wig and white stilettos. You invited me to a party in Killiney, but I had been there before - to Vico Road, where I was forced to dress in red and have deviant sex with a nanny and a dwarf. Vico Road. Where a famous film director paid me to beat him while he sat in a wheelchair, where a famous singer – dressed in PVC and big stupid glasses – paid me to chase him round the room with a can of fly-killer.

You told me your name was Eamon. You sniffed cocaine off my nipples and you said after that I was a good whore, but not a great whore, that the best whores worked in TV, then you scribbled all over the walls of my apartment, screaming about a homosexual farmer called Giles.

You said your name was George. You seemed kind, but then you took too much Viagra and you held me captive for days while you beat off and talked about yourself, endlessly. You said your name was Michael. I stroked your bald head. I let you play with my stormtrooper costumes. You cried. You opened up to me. But then I saw the guilt in your eyes – and knew it was you who would ring immigration.

***
Was trying to google the book, but couldn't find it. Hopefully will manage to get hold of it.

Once upon a time somewhere in the deep suburbia of Ukraine lived baba. Baba was producing homemade vodka, widely also known as moonshine. Then a tourist from the United States of America came along. Thus a video on You Tube appeared. Somebody in "Decanter" stumbled across it and that's how I discovered the recipe for Ukrainian vodka:

3 buckets of water
3 to 5 kilos of sugar (depending on the taste expected)
0.5 kilo of yeast

A couple of old pots, a pipe, old pair of knickers, rags, stove and coals also needed. Couldn't figure out the rest. Perhaps you might.



On the 19th of June 2007 the European Parliament has voted down a bid by MEPs from Poland, Finland, the Baltic states, Sweden and Denmark to tighten the legal definition of vodka. The so-called "vodka belt" countries wanted to restrict the term to spirits made only from potatoes or grain. But a majority of MEPs voted in favour of a looser definition. According to BBC, vodka made from anything other than potatoes or grain will have to say so on the label yet it can keep the name "vodka" on it.

For those who come from countries mentioned above this was basically a battle for copyright. Just like Champagne has to be made in Champagne and Cognac - in the region of Cognac. Otherwise pleae be kind to use the name sparkling wine or brandy.

Despite loosing this battle Lithuania has to face another one now and it is a question of whether the politicians will have the guts needed to confront conservatives (by this I don't mean just political movement). I am talking about the legalization of homemade vodka which would include legal measures to control the quality of the production, making sure it is made in a more civilized way than "baba's pot". Just like whisk(e)y - once illegally mass-produced on such a scale that in 1820s as many as 14,000 illicit stills were being confiscated every year today it is one of the best-known Scottish exports. And boy, some of them are delicious...

Lobbyists who are pushing the legalization of homemade vodka in Lithuania claim this could become a huge attraction to foreigners, especially those interested in countryside tourism. The levels of production would be controlled, so would be the quality. Some believe this could help to decrease the rate of alcoholism in the country. Besides, the likes of baba would probably have to improve the sanitation.

On the other hand, what could be better after a day of swimming in the lake, fishing and horse riding than a dram of top quality homemade vodka with some Lithuanian charcuterie, rye bread and pickles? Old people say if it's well made you would drink a bottle and wake up the following morning fresh as a daisy. Forget "Smirnoff" or "Huzzar".

They became famous after a show in "Pizdetz" (the most accurate translation of this Russian expression would be "cunt kaput") - an after-hours club on Ridge Street in New York. The members of the band are from Ukraine, Sachalin, Israel, Moscow and California. I heard them for the first time when a colleague of mine had brought their CD to work and I was overjoyed - for the first time ever I could understand the lyrics better than he (English) did. From the background of thundering drums, banging fire buckets, violins and accordions stories emerged - uttered with a distinctive Slavic accent and interwoven with Russian jokes and exclamations. Thus my encounter with "Gogol Bordello" began.

The front man of the group (or phenomenon if you like), its founder and and soul Eugene Hütz (Євгени Худз) as "Guardian" says has called his band "an orchestra of fucking immigrants, jamming in A minor".Their lyrics are obscene, they give out to everyone - homo sovieticus, West, Europe, pop culture, the system, immigration officers. E. Hütz looks like a an outlaw himself - franticly spinning on the stage half naked and with a distinctive mustache. Their music is everything but easy-listening and E. Hütz roars with a creaking voice every single song as if it was a confession born in the darkest corner of the soul in the middle of the night while sitting besides a campfire and cracking a couple of bottles of vodka. Their music, the so called "gypsy punk", has won admirers all over the United States and recently thousands of music fans were madly jumping with their wellies in the mud of Glastonbury to its rythm.




To get the lyrics

"aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiget down here as a cheap labor force but i beat the system everywhere i goes"

is tough and I have my reservations - I doubt that because of them thousands are going crazy - it is the image of "Gogol Bordello" that puts a spell on you first. Yet behind it remarkably accurate and intense words are concealed - emerging from personal experiences - firstly those of E. Hütz, who had left Ukraine with his parents following the Chernobyl nuclear accident, and those of other members of the band who are now partying together on the other side of the Atlantic after achieving their "American dream" .

There you go critics of emigration - another example of immigrants not only wiping Westerners' asses as you like to stress so often, but kicking them too.

PS
Apparently Madona is known to be a huge fan of "Gogol Bordello", she even invited the guys to join her on stage on 07 07 07 for "Live Earth" gig in London, where she was stamping to their fiddle (or so a similar Russian saying goes).

The People. June 17th.

A two page story by Alan Hart "So 'Nia and Yet So Where?" about Lithuania. Great pictures yet a misspelled name of our capital Vilnius on the map. I hope Vilnuis is a proof reading mistake.

"After showing my friends the holiday photos they're queueing up to go to Lithuania," writes A. Hart.

It seems the journalist has impressed his mates with the choice of the country and activities. Finally the British come to Lithuania for something different than a stag party!