Vacationer's Notes: Pilot Issue

This week I realised what my problem is – I'm tired of partying in Moscow City. How to solve it is not entirely clear, when on Mondays they bring Jay jay Johanson to the capital, on Tuesdays they throw the best hip-hop parties and entertain everyone who's dropped into the Hermitage Garden with bands like Moscow Grooves Institute, on Wednesdays they bring in Psycic TV and throw the Supperclub party with the best Dutch DJs, on Thursday there's the opening of a trendy new jewellery boutique, an Alexandroid concert and the birthday of Techwergow's Anton Kubikov, and on Friday – the long-awaited Aguzarova concert. Any more questions as to why on Saturday morning I switched off my phone and drove out to the countryside for the whole weekend? Don't forget that I still need to study, work and, for decency's sake, see my friends. The bags under my eyes have become an inseparable part of my image, and the fact that I constantly fall asleep during lectures no longer surprises anyone – let them be grateful, by the way, that I don't snore. Note that I'm not complaining, I really do need advice.
Right, this lyrical digression has dragged on a bit. Time to report on a week that wasn't lived in vain. I'll lay it all out in order, as best I remember. So, Jay jay Johanson at Tinkoff. Stuffy, smoky, loud – just the way we like it. Loads of familiar faces – had a lovely chat with Pasha Kabanov from OSP about Barcelona, where he'd just come back from, all rosy and tanned; got introduced to Nadya Skazka, a charming young fashion designer who moonlights as Ilya Lagutenko's girlfriend. By the day this article comes out she's already off holidaying in the Dominican Republic. Nadyaaa, I'm with you! I shamelessly missed the concert itself, watching it on the monitors in the restaurant on the ground floor. There are several reasons for this, some sensible and some not so much – firstly, all the tables near the stage were taken, and from the other spots my height (1.55) let me see absolutely nothing, and I didn't fancy sitting on anyone's shoulders – my spine is curved as far as it'll go as it is. Secondly, the sound quality at Tinkoff leaves much to be desired – so listening to a concert without seeing the singer himself made no sense either, and, finally, thirdly, I ran into Alyona Pavlova from GQ, and a conversation with her seemed a worthy alternative to 'carrying on the banquet'. The next day, after sitting at university for half a day and listening to a lecture on the genius of Saltykov-Shchedrin, in search of anti-stress I came to the Hermitage Garden for Moscow Grooves Institute – a bit chilly for an open-air, my friends. Or they should have been handing out vodka for free. Personally – for all my love of the aforementioned group's work – I lasted no more than a quarter of an hour, after which I headed off to 'Propaganda' for hip-hop – the details, with your permission, I'll skip. On Wednesday we partied at Supperclub – it's the most famous nightclub in Amsterdam, which came to Moscow not only in the form of DJs but also of its local club freaks. The venue – 30.7 – a bar where it feels like Manhattan is buzzing outside the door, though the prices at the bar are seriously jacked up in true Moscow style. In the corner sat a very tired Gosha Kutsenko, on the dancefloor was the whole Gaudi club crew and that same Pasha Kabanov, Harrison was dancing on the bar counter, and behind the bar were lots of people and one live horse. What it was doing in the bar I have no idea, it just stood behind the bar counter, silent, gazing sadly at the way the 'masters of the planet' bounced to the hard beat, occasionally shaking its head. 5 a.m., the middle of the working week, Moscow. THIS IS MY CITY!!! The next day, with the bright image of the horse in my head, I went to the presentation of some mega-expensive jewellery brand. I had the impression I'd wandered into a Helloween pre-party. In front of the entrance stood a tree decorated, for some reason, with apples (tasteless ones, by the way, as it turned out a bit later), expensive foreign cars were parked on top of one another in chaotic order, and at the entrance onlookers were trying to sneak a couple of pieces of sushi off the waiters. Inside – two-metre-tall blondes with identical facial expressions, a couple of centimetres of make-up, 'latest' hot-couture collections from two years ago, earlobes sagging under the weight of jewellery – brrrrr… I sorely missed the horse. For some reason mushrooms with rice were served with the champagne, and the DJ played the 'ultra-fashionable' hits of Adriano Celentano and Army of Lovers. Photographers ran back and forth, snapping now Shura with his new goatee, now the miniature Yudashkin vainly trying to shout up to the two-metre-tall Eva Herzigová, now the former star of 'The Domino Principle' Elena Ishcheeva. SOS! After a quarter of an hour I started feeling wildly nauseous – whether from the unwashed apples or from everything going on around me – doesn't matter. Before leaving I honestly tried to find out from one blonde in a tweed suit with a fox collar what the DJ's name was, so I could get his autograph. The blonde stared straight at me for a couple of minutes, then said she didn't understand the point of the question. My mood improved at the Alexandroid concert at 16 Tons. Great visuals, the most wonderful music and all our own crowd. My favourite party format. From 16 Tons the whole crowd of us headed to Sobachka for the birthday of Kubikov's Thursdays, where he was promised but didn't show. Nobody, however, felt let down – it was veeeery hot in Sobachka that night. Especially for me. At around five in the morning in Sobachka I ran into that same blonde from the presentation, she was for some reason already without the fox collar and, it seemed, without her memory: 'We've met somewhere!!! For sure! For sure! My name's Veronika!' – 'Mine too,' I replied, 'mine too.'

PS: Alas, I didn't make it to the Psycic TV concert as I was away from Moscow. A friend told me the live show was superb; he was struck in equal measure by the music of TV and by the presence of two large female breasts on the chest.