I wrote a song yesterday. The title speaks for itself, but let me add two comments: It all started during my first weekend back in Crimea in September, when an elder in the Crimean Tatar community looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I know you're a spy. But it's ok, you don't have to admit it." I was too flustered to say anything in my defense, which probably led her to believe that I was, indeed, a spy. Just our little secret.
Accusations of such shady dealings have come up since, and not just at me. In November, I helped Joshua Kucera, a journalist reporting in Crimea to make some introductions. Afterwards, many of those to whom he was introduced asked me if he was a spy. No, no, no, I said, he's writing some articles for Slate (but it's true that he was once offered a gig by a Russian spook.)
Today's New York Times reports on a Russian spy case in Estonia which, frankly, would make me a little paranoid, too.
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Also, still a few days left to catch some very rare music in New York City, straight from Hutsulschynna from where I'm writing this. Here's another plug for the Yara Arts Group Carpathian Mountain Winter Ritual Performance, which has been recommended by the Village Voice, New York Press, and Villager as the event to see this weekend.
4 comments:
Yes that blonde hair and blue eyes and beautiful smile. I knew it couldn't be straight up.
Happy New Year!!!! Marichko!
Know the feeling. One of the (young) Georgians I work with can't believe that anyone western who went to the USSR could have been anything but a spy. And I went several times, first as a student. So we have some very funny conversations about what I am doing in Tbilisi for MI6.
Yesterday, I was planning a trip to Rakhiv and Dilove (where the geographical center of Europe has been rebuilt and expanded to be an actual tourist site, complete with Kolyba complex) with my friend from Verkhovyna and I casually mentioned that I should cross the Romanian border with my car while we're there. Her mother, who was present, and who I told about this song, asked what "documents" I'll be delivering and to whom. Very suspicious. She then told me that it's ok if I'm a spy, I don't have to admit it and she's on our side anyway. I really don't think she was joking. Unbelievable.
If it weren't unsafe, I'd totally play that out. Walk with your back against the sides of buildings, and randomly pull older pedestrians over and frisk them. Start randomly yelling, "Move along now," and "Nothing to see here," and dart your eyes around shadily.
Every once in awhile, for good measure, just take off sprinting right in the middle of doing something, like talking with a store clerk, and don't forget to look back over your shoulders every few steps.
Wear a big hat that covers your eyes.
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