Cultural Heat

Moving

I have, for over a week, been trying to treat all of you to a post on my cultural influences. There have however, been a few hitches, the main one being a quite hectic ten days here at lost in Moldova. I have been in the process of moving, finally, into a place of my own. This place however, is not yet mine, my things make up only a tenth of the cavernous apartment. I have started unpacking and figure ten books per room will make it feel more like home. Those of you who have had the opportunity to see my child/adulthood room will know what I mean. So in the following post, I shall attempt to write about the experience of moving as well as my cultural influences. How can I combine the two, well...


I. The seven songs to listen to when the "state of the art" heating in your apartment doesn't work and your stuck spending an unexpected night in a hotel*

{If you click on the link underneath each artist's name you "should" be taken to a page where the song can be heard. I know it is a bit awkward but I didn't want the music blaring every time someone opened the blog. Just click back when you are done listening. Again, I understand this is not for everybody, only those of you with too much time on your hands or a deaf boss. Either way enjoy this multimedia experiment.}

1. Amos Lee - Supply and Demand
Amos Lee - Supply and Demand


As you walk back to your hotel, wondering how something like heat in the dead of winter is not a problem worthy of immediate resolution and the word "maine"(tomorrow) is ringing in your ears, the dulcet tones of Amos Lee suit the mood just right.(Repeat song 4 times due to duration of walk)

2. Mike Doughty(featuring Dave Matthews)- Tremendous Brunettes
Mike Doughty - Tremendous Brunettes


Upon entering the hotel, pull the right earphone out so as to hear the coldly beautiful concierge( no way this girl is older than 20) and switch to this song. Let the music cover half your body while the concierge politely explains that the previous rate of 120 Euros no longer applies, more will be asked, because you did not reserve an extra night. As the song hits its crescendo place your credit card on the desk and watch her smile politely as you say "no problem". Let the song play a second time through as she hands you your key card, bids you a good night, and says the word of the day "maine". Replace the earphone and turn away slowly giving her a look. Notice the controlled smile that indicates it was strictly a business transaction, despite your having known her for six weeks, but doesn't cut off all hope.
3. Mattafix - Big City Life
Mattafix - Big City Life


When walking slowly, slightly defeated, up the stairs to the elevator this song provides a brief interlude. Press the elevator button twice, it doesn't light up so best be sure. Lean up against the side of the elevator, all the while being careful to keep tomorrow's work clothes from wrinkling. The beat quickens as you get out nodding politely to another traveler, you walk towards your door. The sound of the key card opening the door melds perfectly with the song and you realize why you've chosen it.

4. Radiohead - Fake Plastic Trees
Radiohead - Fake Plastic Trees


Enter the room boldly, like Kramer. You may may not be feeling it but with others in the hall and two bags in your hands its the only dignified way. Put your clothes away, on a hanger in the closet, and slump down into the usual chair. Turn to this song as you survey the room from your seat. The chair, which you swear is from IKEA, if that existed here, is the same one your roommate BDH148 had in college and POS has in his apartment now. Let Thom Yorke's voice remind you that this room, though not the same one you had before, is an exact replica even down to how much potpourri is in the dish atop the mini-bar.

5. Ivan Perry - Raining in Baltimore(Counting Crows cover)
Ivan Perry - Raining in Baltimore(Counting Crows cover)


Getting up from the chair, you stride to the window, purposefully(?). This song takes you back to a another time, another window. As Mr Perry sings "maybe I should put the top down" you notice it is flurrying. Two moments pass, maybe three, you let the song play again as you turn away from the window and slip into your routine. Labtop out, on, and whirring, USB cable and cradle connected awaiting the iPod. You take two steps open the mini-fridge and stare, for the thirty-fifth time at the bottle of Budvar inside,at 3.50 euros however you shut the fridge. The song is over, the earphones are out, you connect the iPod and sit down.


6. Georges Brassens - Aupres de Mon Arbre
Georges Brassens - Aupres de Mon Arbre


Brassens fills the room, annoying your neighbors, possibly, but you think "maine" I'll be gone so plus volume it is. You log on, wireless Internet, the OOs in Google regard you expectantly. You type a word, a phrase, and suddenly you are connected again. The song ends fast so watch out, but it will do its work. By now six songs in you've run the gauntlet and after only one time through the song has acted as a salve.

7. Paul Simon - You can call me Al
Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al


As the first chords play you can't help but bob your head, your fingers follow suit. You feel reborn, redeemed, reanimated or to be less dramatic you just feel better. Your fingers clacking to the beat for "maine" is full of possibilities, "maine" you will spend your first night in your new place.


What you listen to from here on out as you email, make calls, and prepare for work, really doesn't matter, you're already thinking about the seven songs you'll to listen to on your first night in your new apartment.

*I can not, as most of you will have noted, take credit for the idea to use top 7(5, 10) lists. This device has been used by many, most popularly Nick Hornby in High Fidelity.

Join us next time when we'll be covering 4 books to thumb through on you first night in your new apartment when the "state of the art" Internet connection doesn't work.

Until then,
TO
Lost In Moldova


P.S. There have been those of you clamoring for pictures of the new place and they are coming, as soon as figure out what captions they go with. Here however, is a taste. This faux Egyptian papyrus was hung above my bed until its recent relocation to the closet.


City: Maurilia

Seeing Stars

Celebrity Sighting


We here at Lost in Moldova are excited to announce our first official celebrity sighting. Unlike that time two weeks ago when we were positive we saw Ringo Starr at McDonald's enjoying a McPuisor(Chicken), this time we are able to provide exclusive photo evidence.

None other than noted Italian American actor Joe Pesci was spotted exploring our fair section of the world. Fresh off his three episode stint this season on the Soprano's as "Joey Brake Lights", Mr "Tommy DeVito", Mr. "Vinny Gambini" was seen dining with his entourage at the distinguished Indian restaurant.

Refusing to remove his hat and glasses at the table, the surly Mr Pesci would not grant us an interview. Our noted photographer was however able to snap this shot of Mr Pesci's trademark intense gaze.



We are unable to ascertain the purpose of Mr. Pesci's visit to these parts, whether for a tryst with an alluring local, researching his next movie on the Bucharest Mafia( Tu vorbesti cu mine?) currently in pre-production, or single handedly trying to bring leather hats back into style, we weren't told nothin'.

No word yet on whether old pal Bobby De Niro will be making an appearance but we will keep you updated on that and the rest of Mr Pesci's whirlwind trip.

Until next time remember, no sighting is too small no rumor too crazy to be published here at Lost in Moldova.

Getting the scoop nobody wants,
Lost In Moldova

Lost in The City

The City...

I took a walk, in fact I've taken several walks but I am referring to last night's in particular. Today is Monday, the Birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King in the US and the second day of the New Year in Moldova, a holiday either way. So last night around 6:30 pm, on the first day of the New Year(Julian Calendar) I took a walk.

Let me digress for a few lines and tell you whence the inspiration came and what the plans were for this walk. Firstly allow me to admit a lack of knowledge of The City. I've been here a month and aside from my hotel, a McDonald's at which I have not yet eaten , though I can tell you that on the menu they have a pie with sour cherries(vishine), a great schnitzel place( it comes on a kaiser roll with fries, sauerkraut and ketchup, and yes the combination works), one Irish Pub aptly named Irish Pub, and work, I know nothing at all. So as this three day weekend approached I made plans to see The City afoot since renting a car is an interesting, expensive, and quite shady proposition here.
Saturday I took two walks, each from the same starting point( the front of my hotel).

The first striking out to the left and the second to the right (I joked with a friend that I would only be making left turns on the first and right turns on the second so as to get right back to where I started). I had reread my Lonely Planet Guide To Moldova on Friday night and out I set. The Guide was quite definitive on the design of the city devoting one whole sentence to it. I shall now reproduce it for you: "Chisinau's street layout is a typically Soviet grid system of straight streets". Now here was a height of clarity I hope to one day achieve, I jest of course. The reason this very old city is built in the Soviet Style, my guide tells me, is that it was heavily bombed in World War II and rebuilt almost in its entirety. One small tid-bit, I believe my Grandfather fought here during WWII but I would need someone from the older generation to confirm.

My plan also included two more walks, saved for Sunday, one forward and one backward, not the most complicated plan I admit but "in this case vot you can do". The hotel being central I figured I would cover much ground this way.

*This is the best map of Chisinau I was able to find on short notice. If you're looking for me squint and see if you can spot the number 9 that is one the closest to my starting point.

Both walks went well but were quite uneventful, I was lost inside my own thoughts, and therefore paid attention only to the buildings not to life on the street. Upon returning home after each walk I was tired but not engaged.

Sunday started off slowly, I set my alarm so as not to miss breakfast. Two eggs over easy, four pieces of toast( not five for that you have to pay), triangularly sliced feta, circularly sliced cucumbers, three olives(not four for that you have to pay as well), a packaged croissant, and something called "Labne" which appears to be cottage cheese and yogurt, suffice to say I recalled my childhood and "just said no" to the Labne. The hotel calls the whole thing Sunday Breakfast Menu 1101(why I don't know). I washed it down with a Turkish coffee, a bottle of seltzer water, and red juice. I am afraid I must call it red juice as after a month of drinking it I have as yet to discern its origin. The only other thing on the menu was English, it is hard to say but the quality of service goes up when you speak it around here.

Upon my return to the room in order to dress for my forward walk, I was however sidetracked by the bathtub. Yes folks, I took a bath. I know that baths went out when I hit puberty but you have to understand my bathtub.


It has a part in the back where you can sit up and read and two jets in the exterior wall, plus someone cleans it daily. So my book, my iPod, and warm water put off my stroll until evening. I'm sorry but you wanted the unvarnished truth and there it is. After the bath I procrastinated by playing some bridge on the laptop.

So at 6:30 pm I went for a walk.



Dressed in a black fleece, jeans, a pair of boots, and a wool hat(must protect the earlobes) I started out from the hotel. The iPod, underneath the fleece and the hat, was blaring Turandot a parting gift given to me by my Evil Twin. I walked briskly to the main drag, Blvd Stefan Cel Mare Si Sfint, where I first started to notice the City.

Neon, it may be an inert gas but it was interacting with everything. Buildings glowed red (like the juice), green, purple, every color imaginable. The glow was reflected in the peoples faces: the old lady with an eye patch(I kid you not) bathed in red from the Men's Health sign in a shop window. The teen whose blue, Pepsi lit, hand was groping his girl's bottom. The man wearing a Red Sox sweatshirt and a Yankees hat made me reach for my camera. The street was alive and people were interacting everywhere, making conversation, kissing, holding hands, arguing, one man was protesting, his manifesto on placards laid out on the ground in front of him, three gypsies were singing bawdily. A couple was walking their young child swinging him up and down the street and I was going for a walk.

It was the first day of the new year, unseasonably warm in the high 40's I think, and people were everywhere. I felt as if The City wasn't foreign anymore it had that atmosphere, that buzzing that cities have, one you don't have to hear to feel. I found a small park and cast about for a bench, not finding one empty I leaned against a wall loitering for what must have been 15 minutes. Three people asked for those things you usually ask a stranger for, one for money two for a light, having brought neither I shook my head silently and the reverie broken I moved on. The feeling however had sunk in, here in The City, far away from friends, family, and the life I had painstakingly created I wasn't alone I was Lost in Moldova and that was not such a bad thing.

It was 7:15 and I was going for a walk.



I continued on, the aria doing its work on the inside while the street life was doing the same on the outside.

The beauty of the Grid System seems to be, aside from its simplicity the prevalence of large imposing boulevards, Str. Ismail being one of them, so I made a left expecting more of the same. And poof the people were gone, erased as if some one had photo-shopped them out while I checked the volume on my iPod. I was alone, alone in a sea of cars careening down the road driven the way only someone who has recently come into possession of a powerful automobile and wants people to know it, can drive. The way my best friend drove his Mercedes in that first year after he got it.

The people had vanished, I don't know if people just don't walk down this boulevard, if I had gone too far and left the center of town behind, if I smelled, or if people had already come this way and I was going against the grain. The street had those large rectangular buildings I had first encountered in New Bucharest. I had stepped back in time the neon was gone, the groping, even the buzz it was all gone replaced by the sound of cars on the way to somewhere else. I walked a ways feeling truly Lost in Moldova, I knew no one, didn't recognize anything familiar and that Oh my god what did I get myself into feeling washed over me. I slowed my pace like the man climbing a mountain who realizes its steeper than he originally thought, finally I just stopped and took in the scene. The buildings were lit by a different kind of light, that of headlights. I wondered what took place in these nameless, characterless buildings. Kafka's The Trial whispered through my head why I can't quite say yet. Where were my friends, my older cousins, my parents, my aunts nad uncles, my mentor, someone, anyone I could share this moment with. I could turn make a joke, some dry remark and diffuse the mood, instead it settled over me like a fog. It was the first day of the New Year but the past was not gone.

I felt the need to move, to leave, to turn left, to get back to that other street.

It was 7:45 and I was going for a walk.


I made the first left back towards the hotel, I'd had enough of the city for one walk. A book, a schnitzel, and to top it off a DVD were in my future. As I walked back I came to this hasty realization, what you could call a first impression: The City just like The Country was one of extremes from rich to poor, western to eastern, engulfed to alone there was no in between. One step either way could take you from one to the other. The middle, the ground upon which I had firmly stood for a majority of my life, didn't exist here.

I took the steps at the hotel two at a time, foregoing all decorum. Upon entering my room I threw myself heavily on the couch and listened to the end of the opera.

It was 8:30 and I was done walking.

Now It is Monday 6:00 pm and I've spent a part of my day reading and a part writing this. Soon it'll be 6:30 and I wonder if I'll go for a walk.



The City awaits...

Postscript. Once again this post is long and overly dramatic. The walk did take place however and so did most of these emotions. So I ask those of you who have made moves like this and taken walks like this, was it at all the same for you?

Thanks for bearing with me
Lost in Moldova

City: Zora

Evaluation and Evolution

Prelude to a post

Before we get started I would like to say thank you to all who took the time. Comments were generally positive especially since I put silence and lack of response in the positive column. However, the people whose opinion and advice matters most made a few suggestions. More clarity of writing was requested, so I shall strip away the layers of excess and make this next post less work. My intent was not to preen for the grandstand and I hope that all will bear with me while I find my voice.

I read a memoir by Martin Amis( Experience) a few years ago, and Saturday I read a review of his new novel House of Meetings in the International Herald Tribune. In this piece the reviewer wrote how Mr Amis stated that "part of the job of the novelist is writing fiction that other people have in them". I read the review a few hours before having a conversation which sent me straight back to that particular phrase. I wasn't writing fiction but I was trying to write in someone else's voice before clearly defining my own. I skipped a step(or three).

All of this is to say that "I" will make an appearance in this next post. I will give something of myself in exchange for the time you are giving me.

A close and respected friend of mine told me a few years ago that his decision to begin writing had forced him, after a lifetime, to look at life from the first person point of view, he then expressed how difficult it had been and still was. I nodded as if I understood and sipped my coffee. I honestly thought I did, until the past few hours when, while staring at this gray keyboard attempting to write, memory opened the filing cabinet, sifted through its contents and brought me back to that unusually warm September day.

I would also like to say feedback: positive, negative, indifferent is welcome. Worry not, I can take it if you think it schlock and it remains the only was I'll get better.

Lastly I wanted to say that, though I know I'm the only one counting, I have referred to myself 26 times in different ways in this short post and that can tend to make one self conscious as that is more than one reference per line.

The "lost in the city" post will follow as soon as its proofed.

thanks,
Lost in Moldova

Lost In Moldova: What you're getting into.

Disclaimer:
All characters listed herein are fictional any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental. If you recognize yourself in this blog the blogger is unamused and insists that you reconsider your position. "Lost in Moldova" is not responsible for the actions of "Lost in Moldova". The opinions listed here do not represent the actual opinions of "Lost in Moldova". This blog is one of purely personal content, and any attempt to take it seriously or make it professional will be met with skepticism by the blogger.

To Whom it May Concern

We are currently looking for a 3 foot 4 inch(when sitting), Caucasian Male(we think, at least about the male part), last spotted walking the streets of Chisinau(about 2 feet taller when standing). Please help us find this suspect and force him to give account of himself. For now consider the suspect armed of wit and dangerous of tongue. Do not attempt to approach the suspect on your own, as all who have, fall prey to his silver charm( yes we said it "silver charm", we shall not be accused of excessive creativity in this bureaucratic memorandum), please inform the proper authorities here at "Lost In Moldova" for we have special tools (comparable to those used when bagging and tagging bears). Here on this web site we shall document the search for, stage set, and exploits of said suspect.

Here as follows a brief description:

First a name/A first name/Name a first
Ion Kingsessing/ John/OBM(for all duels involving pistols at sunrise)

1. Head
Whose to say what is inside, but speaking only of the stucco his particulars are:
a. Round( the kind of head that stretches your turtle neck or that black tee you've been saving for a social occasion.)
b. Thick( hair that looks unruly even when combed due to three calyxes(why not calyxii, but that remains a question for another time) located a top and in the posterior of his crownless head.) With a slight curl when long, and a brown he calls hazel, his hair is a source of pride.
c. Large (this could refer to much but as we write this we intend to convey the size of his head in toto. He has the kind of head that looms large even on screen causing every scene to be a closeup( thanks Mr Demille))

2. Face
Of the many we will just describe the physical:
a. Eyebrow(s). The "s" being in parentheses because if not carefully trimmed there is only one brow.
b. Earlobes. Often referred to as "porno-lobes" by those closest to him, his Achilles earlobes are soft, fleshy, and quiver in the wind.
c. Dimpled. Right in the middle of his first chin he has a depression which has caused him to believe that his soul mate has a protuberance in the middle of hers(this having come from a childhood puzzle obsession).
d. Smooth. No matter how hard Ion has tried he remains smooth of visage, the hair follicles having come to the dimple and fallen off like Lemmings into the sea.

3. Body
Bread has been used to describe the body before and by better than us so, "Breadlike" it is.
a. Strong Shoulders. His favorite feature, his shoulders are broad and able to hold much weight(down as well as up) both physically and emotionally. Mr. Kingsessing cites as his personal heroes both Atlas and Sisyphus whose acquaintance he made while taking Delusions of Grandeur 101(Do You have The Midas Touch) as a college sophomore.
b. Full Belly. His stomach lined like a map of the former Yugoslavia is evidence that life has treated him well. His paunch precedes him everywhere he may venture( not at the magnitude of Mr. Ignatius J. Reilly but "Duncelike" none the less). It has been known to shrink however and we are following a report to that effect
c. Whole. Though an ardent philosemite Senor Kingsessing has always maintained contact with his foreskin.
d. Calves To Die For. Due to much soccer/football and much bench sitting M. Kingsessing has great calves. Well defined without the requirement of a workout, when moving in unison Paolo Maldini and Edgar Davids(yes, his vanity knows no end and he named his calves for soccer players, giving them both a first and last name for definition)are the reason he wears Bermuda suits.

4. Image
What You see, What He sees, What a Stranger might see, and one Metaphoric Image

a. What You see:


b. What He sees:



c. What a Stranger sees:



d. Metaphoric Image




This concludes the suspect(both meanings can apply) description portion of our post. You should now have some idea of who we're looking for and we can proceed to a little bit of background on likely associates( past and present), cultural influences, and current surroundings.

Background


It has proved difficult to obtain background info on Mr Kingsessing( we have asked the FBI for his file and are awaiting their response to the negative). However, we have compiled a list of avowed confidantes and possible acquaintances some of whom have thrice denied their association.

What Follows is said list. Be advised however that each uses an alias so as to conceal the nefarious network. Also we only have a few last known photos and would appreciate any assistance provided by the public as we attempt to suss out the connections. Below you shall find names, photos and brief descriptions.

Associates:

Our man was not always Lost in Moldova he was for many years Marooned in Philadelphia before and after being Stranded in State College and Bundled out of Bucharest.

Confidantes include:

1. The Mother(aka The Lifegiver, aka The Teacher, aka Smokefree Miki(recently))
Not to be confused with his "two Mamas" who came to him later in life, this woman is responsible for bringing in to the world, rearing and sheltering Mr Kingsessing. Though their relationship was quite contentious in his teenage years they have formed a strong bond based on shared intellectual curiosity and a love of conversation. He has been heard to state that he would never be Lost in Moldova without her. She has over the years forced Mr Kingsessing to ask the tough questions about his existence and the choices he makes. Our last known picture places her as a beautiful woman in her late thirties(your welcome) and it is whispered that she gives succor to those in need of housing and counseling to those who have been wronged by real estate. Together with The Sculptor she has formed the one we are seeking and let him loose to wreak havoc upon the Eastern Bloc.



This also one of our best photographs of the suspect and once again he eludes us by only allowing his back to be photographed.


2. The Sculptor(aka Man of Bronze, aka Stone Cold V, aka The Non Conversationalist)
Not much is known about this taciturn man that Mr K. refers to as his rock the most important person in his life. So we shall show you an artists rendering and leave it at that, except to say that he has been known to melt bronze in order to get his way.



3. OBM( The O-Dogg, aka Rocco) and POS(aka La Tone, aka The King Of Hearts)
These two have been the primary culprits of Mr. K. for years, longer than even he would care to count. It is thought OBM has left Philadelphia for sandier pastures and has been known to enjoy sailing. Also we are currently of the opinion that he will be the first to be Found in Moldova. The POS we believe is an aluminum siding salesman(this caused by a childhood fascination with asbestos which sadly has affected his mental capacity and physical appearance as you shall see below) and chronic womanizer(how we have no idea). These two are central to discovering Mr. K. as it has been said that he keeps in daily contact with the POS( why we know not).
*the first photo shows OBM and POS with a third unidentified fellow, a slim and dashing young man we are unable to place as we believe he no longer associates with them.





4. Family Members
a. The Good Dr. Dre and his paramour whom we'll call AL
The good doctor while famous for such ivy hip hop classics as "Smart Bitches ain't Shit" composed while at Princeton and"Ain't Nothin' but a G Thang" composed while doing a gastroenterology rotation, has left his musical career behind in order to focus on his career has a pulmonary pediatrician( we await a new song however). All we know of, let's call her AL is a penchant for judging a book by its cover and a dislike for Meat Jello shared with our suspect. We have also heard talk of Lucy (aka The Spaniel) but information on this mysterious figure is still quite sketchy. No photos are available at this time, however our hope is that some citizen out there will spot one or all three and upload a photo(are you listening Ethan Hawke).
b. The Big Soup(aka Yes, Absolutely) and his Life Partner the former Miss Strauss(aka The Problem Solver)
Of The Big Soup and Miss Strauss we know little. From what we were able to piece together they live in Steel Town USA where The Big Soup who we think is an electrician/plumber uses wires to open clogs so that complicated systems won't shut down. The Former Miss Strauss is, after The Mother the the most important woman in Mr. K's life( we apologize for the language, we copied it directly from an inarticulate note written by the suspect). We do know however that Mr. K named a trophy after her The FJCGIK(Franzica Jovin Coolest Girl I Know) trophy given out each year(well you guessed it the man lacks imagination) the the coolest girl our man knows, and he is still thankful for the female anatomy lessons given by both the Big Soup and The Problem Solver. The names Biba, Chica and Dida have been used in connection with these two also something about a Jungle Ciorba( an apparatus of some sort). We are currently working diligently to bring you more details. Only one photo is available and that of The Big Soup looking pensive.



c. Other Relatives include Jonny Boy, Ghizo, Gogu, Matusica, Unchiul, The Secret Keeper, The Historian, Tere, The Browning Lover, Ms. Dwarfs on The Brain, The Cyclops and The Professor. (mind you these are just aliases and these peoples names are probably as generic as Jon, Jacob Jingle,Heimer, and Schmidt) Here is what we do know:
i. Jonny Boy( aka The Champagne Man) is a highly respected pillar of the New England community with a hidden passion for mid-western life.
ii. Ghizo(aka Yes, Mom), and Gogu are a pair. He a cardiologist and she manages an auto dealership or is it the other way around we are as yet unsure. She has been known to be one of three women allowed to mother our boy. We are in possession of a photograph of Ghizo burning the midnight oil.


iii Matusica and Unchiul
His closest aunt and uncle. Unchiul we believe is an honorary title given to the Family Don while Matusica has been known to provide both sustenance to and conversation for the accused. She has long since formed a personal bond with him and we anticipate her being Found in Moldova some time in late February.
iv. The Secret Keeper( aka Don't Tell Anybody(Dar sa nu spui la nimene))
She the holder of all family lore, so secret that we're not even sure it or she exists. She keeps secrets even from herself. We possess a picture but sadly it must remain a secret as she we believe has dirt even on us.
v. The Historian
What we know of the Historian is passed from student to student, a story of a man daring to take on the Slovenian darling SZ. However, our most recent information tells us that Mr. K is currently in The Historian's bad graces, a blow to Mr. K we are sure.
vi. Tere
NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE
vii. The Browning Lover (aka The Victorian)
all we have on her is this couplet:
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance
Robert Browning
My Last Duchess
viii. Ms Dwarfs On The Brain
A whirling dervish that fires words at you with each revolution. There is almost not enough time to digest the first before the second comes at you (Makes us wonder if you could view life at half speed like a DVD). We know that Mr. K enjoys this about her and would encourage people to visit her site piticipecreier.blogspot.com to see a web site formed of many interesting fragments or crumbs as she prefers to call them.
ix. The Cyclops (aka Zeke)
He lives in a far a way state and all we know is that our Odysseus's journey has yet to put him on the Cyclops shores. Though Mr. K hopes in the reverse of The Poem, The Cyclops will visit him on eastern shores.
x. The Professor(must be said/read with an English accent)
The Professor is said to have "Great Conversation" everywhere he goes and he goes many places each year. In fact we have heard rumors of a yearly communique written by The Professor only for those on the inside.


People with no excuse(Friends)

This list is populated by The Composer, The Mentor, The Evil Twin, The Steve, The Snowbutt, The Dude, and BDH148. We have a few notes and photos.

a. The Composer(aka The Maestro, aka Lights Out Boyle)
French of nationality and tonal of temperament we are as yet unsure if this photo is The Composer or another noted French intellectual Albert Camus. We do however have a limerick to share:

There was a young composer named Ben
Who wanted eight hoes in his den
He went to Moldova
F**ked ova and ova
And next time he said I want ten


b. The Mentor( aka The Architect, aka The Playwright, aka Mr. Higgins, aka The Conversationalist)
Of The man who played Mr. Higgins to our man's Eliza Doolittle next to nothing is known, he prefers to remain in the Shadows. Married to The ESpanish ESenora the mentor has been known to offer advice on all topics. His grey beard is proof of the effort spent on The Lost One. This photo of him easily places him as the brains behind the operation.


c. The Evil Twin(aka V.I. Lenin, aka El Jeffe)
This crystal voiced tenor has been known to gallivant with Mr. K and they have ridiculed many a poorly written word , shared whiskey and conversation, grappa and laughter, and books and beer. He and his current girlfriend whose name we forget(Consuela we think) are currently to be found singing Latin favorites in New Jersey. We feel the V.I. Lenin alias is as a result of this picture.


d. The Steve(aka El Steve)
This mild mannered rec-therapist by day may also double as head of the infamous Roxborough Mafia.


e. The Snowbutt and The Dude
The Abominable Snowbutt has been sited on Holyoke Ave as well as some parts of the Yukon.
The Current holder of the FJCGIK trophy(6 years running) is attached in some way, we have deduced, to The Dude. The Dude master of the culinary arts and 'brushed up on his Mao" has been known to consume a beer or two.



f. BDH148
BDH148 is not some robot from the future. That however is all we know. One rumor however has BDH148 and our suspect meeting up in May, we shall keep you posted.

Of these associates we do know that OBM, POS, The Composer, The Snowbutt, The Dude, along with Mr. K. are members of an organization known only as "The Compound". Mr. K. having been heard to shout "Compound Forever" on the Streets of Chisinau.

Now that we have finished with Background we can move on to Cultural Influences but that is for the next post which we hope will be a few days hence. We congratulate those of you with the patience to get to the bottom of this post, either you are dedicated or you have the kind of job that allows you a great deal of free time, kudos either way.

In the coming weeks scheduled posts are:
Cultural Influences(books, literature, movies, music)
The Scene of the Crime(hotels and apartments to get lost in)
Walk the Path( A city tour with one who knows nothing about the city)
The Clothes Make the Man( an expose on what our suspect might be wearing)
Chisinau Night Life(only for those of you over eighteen please)
Gleanings of a People Person(Life in a new job)

We hope to launch such special guest features as:
POS watch(our count of how long before La Tone needs another car)*
The POS Escapades(our count of something completely different with guest blogger POS himself)*
OBM hours worked( where we see if OBM can average 130 hours worked in a single week and still drink a beer afterwards)*
The Composer's Notes( where The Composer will sound off on whatever subject he damn well pleases)*
Darts Strategy and Fine Alcohol With The Evil Twins(if you need three bulls-eyes, hit them then enjoy a nice a grappa)*
A new Song From the Good DR.(Mo' Asthma, Mo' Problems)*
Continental Theory with The Mother(Riceour, Badiou, Zizek, Benjamin, et al)*
The Right Side With Unchiul(self-explanatory)*
Letters to a young ... with the Mentor(wisdom for everybody)*
New English with the Sculptor(sure to be our most popular post)*
Impressions with the Snowbutt(opinions on current TV Shows)*
Culinary tips from the Dude(today pasta tomorrow cassoulet)*
Interventional Neurology with the Big Soup(simple, simple stuff)*
The Steve Investigates(old people what's the mystery?)*
Fragments( Ms. Dwarfs on the Brain writes stories but not sentences)*
Dear Franti( move over Abby we've taken the 'dear' and left you all alone)*
Skiing With Ghizo(its not all downhill)*
Secret of The Week( with none other than The Secret Keeper)*
Cities with Mr. Ion Kingsessing*

*all special features are tentative until you see them posted up on your screen, as we have not yet asked these people to participate in the hopes that once promised they will feel obligated not to disappoint their public.

Finally this Blog is an Attempt by Lost in Moldova to keep connected to those who are out of sight but not mind. So, participation though not required as I know all are busy, is much appreciated.

Well friends I must away
TO
Lost In Moldova


City: Isidora(Those of you who know me know where to look. Those who don't just look below)