RKS 2023 Film: “Metronom”: Sex, Cognac, Rock and Roll and Romanian Communism

Ana (Mara Bugarin), a senior high school student in 1972 Bucharest, wants to visit her buddy Roxana (Mara Vicol) and a group of friends to listen to music and chat. Mother does not want Ana to go as she has to study for university entrance exams. But being somewhat of a typical teenager Ana defies Mom and heads out to Roxana’s whose parents are away on a business trip.

Yes there is lots of cognac and as the afternoon progresses making out and yes sex! One problem though this is 1972 Romania where listening to capitalist radio, watching corruptive capitalist television or consorting with the foreign press can draw a prison sentence of six years. This repressive society was not unique to Romania at the time but to the U.S.S.R. and most of the Eastern Bloc behind the Iron Curtain. So these typical teenagers out for a good time crack jokes about Nicolae Ceausescu the leader of the Romanian Communist Party and have the audacity to compose a letter to Cornel a DJ with Voice of America and a Romanian defector criticizing the Romanian regime and requesting several American rock n roll songs. His radio show is called Metronom.  My oh my you might say what is wrong with this as why would the Gestapoesque security forces sweep in and detain these “teens are teens”? They are threats to absolute political control!

The security forces tell the teen rebels to write confessions but Ana stubbornly puts up resistance and is hauled in front of good cop bad cop Colonel Boris (Vlad Ivanov) for further interrogation. Does she buckle and face a ruined life and prison sentence? Was there an informant?

A marvelous coming of age story and can we say a political thriller or is it an examination of stupidity of a desperate regime? Or does the Romanian state have the acuity to recognize the extreme danger of sex, cognac and Jim Morrison and the Doors? Perhaps it is a melange? Led Zeppelin records can land you in prison!

Accurate? I was in Romania for a month in 1974. I was tailed by security forces, met with the family of a high-level defector, snuck into a communist youth camp discotheque in Constanta, met with black marketeers and yes even had a fun evening with young guys my age including the son of the Minister of Energy. This film is accurate and is a must watch study in repression which is not restricted to Romania of a different time.

Bugarin does an excellent job as a sultry and defiant Ana as does Vicol as the spirited Roxana. Ivanov as the Colonel is almost likeable at times but essentially a ruthless Ceausescu guard dog.

Winner of Best Director (Alexandru Belc) at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival. Opening in Canadian theatres 24February2023.

RKS 2023 Film Rating 96/100.

RKS 2023 Wine: Errazuriz Max VIII from Chile

Sorry can’t help thinking this wine sounds like some motor oil. Hopefully it tastes better than Saudi juice.

It comes from 8 different vineyards in the Aconcagua Valley in Chile which has been carved out by the abundant rainwater that flows down from Mt. Aconcagua, the highest mountain range in the western hemisphere. Red varieties have had a long tradition in the inner valley close to the Andes while cool climate loving Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir are thriving near the coast.

It is an extremely approachable blend of Syrah, Malbec, Carménère, Grenache, Cabernet Sauvignon and Mourvedre. Who wouldn’t want to oil their gullet with this wine!

Aromatics: Blackberry, black cherry, blueberry and big fat local strawberries so different from wooden Californian ones we must suffer through in Canada for most of the year.

Palate: I would dearly love to have the blenders of this wine on my payroll because they have blended an enormously approachable wine. The tannins are moderate but so diffuse they just might trick you into thinking they are less prominent than they really are. Raspberry and the strawberry are the influence of Carménère and Grenache respectively. Although a bit thin the fruit does wonders here.

Personality: I am everyone’s best friend. That includes novices and hot shot wine writers like the guy that is describing me now. For Canadians that love Trius Red from Niagara you’ll love me!

Food match: Bacon wrapped pork tenderloin, Port braised cabbage, roasted apple, celeriac purée and sage jus. Or spicy black bean chili!

Cellarbility: A slight improvement through to 2025 and drink by the end of 2026.

In a nutshell: If you like a red wine that is blended in a fashion to avoid any particular grape personality having prominence this wine is for you. Not complex but 5-star enjoyability.

Price: $25.95 (Ontario).

RKS 2023 Wine Rating: 90/100. Jamessuckling.com 94.

(Errazuriz Max VIII 2018, D.O. Valle de Aconcagua, Viña Errazuriz, Panqehue, Chile, 750 mL, LCBO # 24765, 14%).

” The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned but Marvellous: ” Chapter 48: Rot in Hell Cyclops! May You Be with the Angels Ginevra

OK so I had our Bombay Blues Whisky travelling road show at the J.W. Marriot Bucharest Grand Hotel’s “Voice of America” grand suite. The Romanians tanked up on Bombay Blues Whisky. In fact twenty bottles of it for 53 people. They scoffed down pounds of Bombay Fried Okra probably not noticing the inferior Albanian okra that was available on the market. And yes that Dacian beauty Corina was there batting her eyelashes coquettishly. Over a tumbler of Bombay Blues she repeatedly said I reminded her of someone she was once madly in love with from Canada.

Ginevra carrying our unborn child. Gone but not forgotten.

The next day I took a TAROM flight from Bucharest to Braşov. Ginevra’s six shooter was waiting for me at Chez Greasy Goulash a tacky little goulash restaurant and bar in the backstreets of Braşov. Don Lupara had sent it to his Romanian mob friends for me to pick up. The hollow point bullets had been filled with cyanide. There was also a semi automatic Romanian job a Cugir 2000 and a map showing the exact location of Cyclops in his luxury chalet in the Carpathian mountains and a beat up Dacia car. Off I went. Thank you to the Strigoi.

At dusk I was at the outskirts of Cyclops compound. I could see him through the window drunk as a skunk fondling two very young half naked girls. His lone security guard was out vomiting in the woods. Too much vodka? It was quite simple. I opened the sliding door and shouted Ginevra’s name and emptied Ginevra’s six shooter into the slime bucket’s head. There wasn’t much of it left. I grabbed the two girls who were pleading for their life but immediately saw I was not intending them any harm.

The drunken security guard saw Cyclops fall and ran like a bat out of hell. I sped away back to Bucharest with the girls in the back of the Dacia. I cried most of the way back to Bucharest. I had thought revenge was sweet but it was bitter. My Strigoi contact took the two girls and one of his men drove them back to Albania to their parents, their home. Ginevra’s six shooter would be returned to Don Lupara. I immediately boarded a flight back to Naples via Rome. What next?

RKS 2023 Film: “Children of the Mist”: Weird, Amusing or Just Plain Disgusting

“Children of the Mist” is a documentary exploring the kidnapping of young girls within the Hmong ethnic group in the isolated mountainous regions of northern Vietnam where the mist often drifts in. A component of the Hmong culture is the kidnapping of underage girls for the purposes of marriage as young as thirteen years of age. We follow Di for two years until she is kidnapped at 14 ½ years of age by a boy Vang that is of a similar age.

As a Canadian you may be outraged by the term “kidnapping”. However initially for some viewers it would appear to be at best perhaps a rather bizarre courtship ritual but at the conclusion of the documentary this interpretation is subject to fallibility. It evolves into attempted coercion, violent misogyny and inexcusable behaviour illegal under Vietnamese law where 18 is the legal marrying age. 

Di appears to be willingly kidnapped by Vang. Vang’s family pays a visit to Di’s family to negotiate a dowry to be paid for Di. So many kilos of pork, chickens, rice wine and cash.  Dad loves his rice wine and is plastered throughout much of the documentary. Vang’s father is a raging violent alcoholic. Matters become more oppressive and violent after that meeting particularly after a visit to Vang’s family. Vang is a high school dropout with no future. Di realizes she wants no part of this bleak future and drinks a “no thank you” glass of rice wine. Eventually Vang downs a glass and Di is left alone.

Cultural tolerance is one matter but should our tolerance extend to primitive and violent practices that should be universally rejected. Even the local political committee condemns the behaviour but in a rather lukewarm fashion. You may ask where in these impoverished Hmong rural villages Colonel Kurtz is sleeping and muttering to himself.

This 2021 Vietnamese documentary opens at Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema on 15February2023.

RKS 2023 Film Rating 86/100.

RKS 2023 Wine: One of Chile’s Great Chardonnays?

The Ventisquero Tara Atacama White Wine 1 2020 is only available in 10 Liquor Control Board of Ontario stores and considering the price of $54.95 it is no wonder! The label does not specifically label the wine as a Chardonnay instead stating: “Base Wine: Chardonnay”. Third party websites confirm it is 100% Chardonnay. My Anti Virus system gave me a warning the Ventisquero website was dangerous so I did not check that website for the possible other grapes that might have supplemented the “base wine”.

11,000 cases were produced.

Aromatics: Honey, apple, persimmons, sweet white Jaffa grapefruit and guava.

Palate: Grapefruit, tangerine with noticeable acidity. Pardon the comparison but the acidity and grapefruit remind me of an Ontario Riesling! Any richness and complexity is robbed by the bitter grapefruit finish.

Personality: OK so tim.atkin.com rated me a 96 so I must be great right? However if you like a wine with a sour disposition and not a lot of depth I am your wine.

Cellarbility: Being a shallow wine not much to improve upon by ageing.

Food Match: Being somewhat akin to a Vino Verde white I would pair with grilled sardines.

Price: $54.95 (Ontario). Being a sample this did not burn my pocket but quite frankly a 99-pound weakling Chardonnay.

In a nutshell: At a 96/100 timatkin.com rating I have a Luca Maroniish feeling.

RKS 2023 Wine Rating: 77/100. Timatkin.com 96/100.

(Tara Atacama White Wine 1 2020, D.O. Atacama Valley, Viña Ventisquero, Doñihue, Chile, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 511377, 750 mL, 13%).

“The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned but Marvellous” : Chapter 47: Surrounded by Gypsies at Three A.M. and My Eye Spies an Old Flame and a Dacian Beauty

I had two days before my little show in Bucharest trying to introduce Romanian restaurants and liquor distributors to India’s finest whisky “Bombay Blues”. After an early dinner at the Westin’s “Vlad the Impaler’s” bistro style restaurant I decided to take an evening stroll to Herastrau Park a huge park on a lake. I discovered a charming bistro on the lake in sitting in an outdoor patio. I met the owner called Sorine and we talked for a bit. Married a few years ago he and his wife voyaged to India for their honeymoon. We had a chat and consumed a large quantity of German beer sitting in tubs of ice by each table. I invited Sorine to my upcoming Bombay Blues reception.

So I am going to relate to you a story as my publisher Wuhan Wet Market Publishing keeps inveigling me to keep amusing the readers lest they be bored. I mean haven’t you been excited and thrilled so far? Haven’t I experienced an incredible life you poor reader will never experience? Don’t read my story before you go to bed or you’ll never sleep.

So here we go to get you titillated and you can thank Wuhan Wet Market Publishing for insisting upon me relating to you this story.

Sorine and I had been chatting up a storm at his bistro whiling the night and early morning away. When Sorine closed at 2 a.m. he said that he would walk me home so off we wended through the park singing Romanian folk songs. I suppose it was the German beer talking but I was singing along in Romanian! A few minutes into our walk a group of gypsies jumped out of the bushes with their musical instruments requesting a “donation”. I wanted to blow these hucksters away but Sorine said shut up or your throat may be slit like had been done to a few tourists each year. So we enjoyed the music paid out some cash and we were on our way.

The next day while having dinner at the J.W Marriot Bucharest Grand Hotel’s J.W. Steakhouse the sommelier approached my table and asked what wine I thought I might like with my ox steak. Our eyes met and when her beautiful blue eyes stared into mine my knees went weak. No it was not because this woman was the most beautiful women in Romania but rather in my CIA operative days in Bucharest we had a month long torrid fling, I had met Corina at the Bucharest Ceausescu Technical Institute. Her father was a recent defector from the Ceausescu regime so we thought at the CIA somehow she might be useful to us which she was! But I could not blow my Indian travelling salesman cover so I held back at least knowing where to find her. But first I had to avenge Ginevra.

“The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned Maligned But Marvellous”:Chapter 46: Touchdown in Romania Clouded with Poop Gas: An Angry Gun Barrell Never Sleeps

I left India via New Delhi on TAROM Airlines to Bucharest. They call that flight the “Delhi Belly” as so many passengers have the trots from Indian food the airplane cabin reeks of poop!

Part of the “plan” had me darkening my skin with a couple of weeks in the Bombay sun to bleach the Welsh side of me out. Then I grew a scraggly beard and dressed “like an Indian”. If Cyclops and his Russian hoodlums were looking for Ginevra’s fiancée I did not want to foot that bill. Don Lupara’s local Romanian mafia in a desperate turf battle with the Russians had advised him Cyclops’ had reduced his security as some 7 months had lapsed since he had fled Naples. He obviously forgot the Neapolitan adage, “An angry gun barrel never sleeps.”

Using a false Indian passport I passed easily through customs and immigration at the Bucharest Airport. I took a taxi and checked in at the Westin Hotel. As I had told you I had at one point been working as a CIA operative in the old Communist Eastern Europe which included a stint in Romania canvassing the possibility of a student led uprising to topple the Ceausescu leadership or “butchership” if you wish. Ceausescu was a nasty bastard and his wife Elena was the Doctor Mengele for Romanian children. Both were shot in the head in 1989 when the communist regime was overthrown.

I planned two days in the capital city of Bucharest and then off to Constanta on the Black Sea to host a reception for local restaurateurs and liquor distributors who would tank up on Indian whisky and curried shrimp and pakoras. What a crazy bunch of people but in a happy way. Once the whisky was open it began to be consumed in great quantities. The Romanians, once deprived of any reason of gaiety seemed to want to compensate for the horrific Ceausescu days and let their hair hang down. I can’t say I was flooded with orders but you gotta start somewhere! Constanta was a dreadful place full of Ceausescu socialist architecture and sterility.

I flew back to Bucharest for another reception of potential buyers, a near attack by gypsies and an encounter with the most beautiful woman in Romania.

“The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned but Marvellous” : Chapter 45: Back in Bombay

In September I returned to Bombay. I kept myself occupied with the various businesses I had on the go that had been managed by trusted advisors over the past few years. I had sold the gold mining business my father had built up a few years ago and diversified.

My newest business was called “Number One Outsourcing” and it was legitimate unlike all the boiler room operations selling fraud fueled fabricated dreams to suck out money from Europeans and North Americans. I had a whole host of well-educated Indians capable, with some extensive training, to fill jobs outsourced by the wealthy nations. First world corporations were in a cost cutting frenzy to pump up salaries of senior management interested in big bonus payoffs for high profits in the short term. Greed was the name of the game so why not benefit from what could not be stopped! I recall a very big client of mine. It was a huge global financial institution headquartered in Cleveland. It had actually been encouraged by American regulators to move jobs offshore as a risk reduction strategy. Sell out your domestic labour force to “protect” financial institutions. Dealing with this combination of greed and stupidity was a fine business to be in. We had vast complexes in Bombay and Punnai my company managed. Please don’t blame the Indians for hundreds of thousands of jobs outsourced to it. If you want to apportion the blame asked who did the outsourcing!

One part of the outsourcing was establishing call centres and necessary infrastructure. Many of my clients didn’t mind their customers dealing with Indian call centres despite the fact of horrific phone communication and very heavy Indian accents their customers had difficulty understanding. Who cares about these matters when profits could skyrocket.

My “Bombay Fried Okra” chain was doing well. Dress up staff in American fast foodish outfits and replicate fast food restaurant décor and assembly line food. The menu was simple. Fried curried okra and biscuits, fried curried eggplant sandwiches, Indian fries and ox milkshakes were popular. We also featured McTandoori sandwiches.

Perhaps the business that was the most rewarding but not highly profitable was managing my late mother’s music catalogue. Not known by many was the fact she had written two John Lennon songs “Curry Fields Forever” being the most popular. After John’s death his record sales rocketed and so did royalties for Juanita Wallabong my mom.

On my spare time I managed to squeeze a few polo games in with my old school chums who were working at the Bombay British Consulate.  I worked with a couple of them to start a distillery for a new Indian Scotch Whisky “Bombay Blues” which you may recall was the style of blues my mom had invented. Little did I know that whisky would feature in my Romanian plans for Cyclops.

“The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned But Marvellous”: Chapter 44: Cooling My Heels in the Eastern Aegean

I spent three days in Vravrona, which was close to the Athens airport, enjoying the ocean and eating plenty of grilled octopus and Greek Salads. In the evening I researched my island destination of Samos. It was a relatively small island in the Eastern Aegean at points as close as six kilometres from the Turkish coast. It had a long history of peaceful enterprising inhabitants more interested in commerce than in war. It had been occupied by the Turks for over 200 years and then the Italians and Germans in the Second World War. It was a prize tourist destination for Germans and the Dutch many of whom had been coming to the island for years each summer. Most importantly there were few Italian tourists visiting the island. Not that anyone would recognize me but my mission was to be a forgotten individual.

I took the overnight ferry from Piraeus to the capital town of Samos called Vathi. I arrived at 09:00 in the warm spring sunshine. The island was mountainous and from a distance looked parched. In Vathi I rented a car just outside the port from Nicos Rent a Car. A small Citroen. I headed off to a small town called Mytlini a 20-minute drive from Vathi. It was up in the hills and with a population of little over a thousand people. The entire village was on a hill and the streets were sloped. One small supermarket, a bakery, a convenience store and a few small shops up the hill including two tiny restaurants.

I had rented a small house from two spinster schoolteachers. It was dated and really required extensive renovations but I was lucky to have found a house to rent. The locals were a bit aghast at a half Indian half Welsh character in their midst but were welcoming. I was often invited in for coffee and vanilla on a spoon in cold water or a small plate of quince jam. It didn’t matter they spoke very little English or I almost no Greek although I was picking it up quickly by watching an awful lot of Greek television. After my afternoon nap I would head down to one of the restaurants and have a beer and some mezze which usually were slices of octopus, tomatoes and a bit of feta cheese. I would try my Greek with the patrons and they usually had a laugh at my pronunciation but a friendly and not mocking laugh. I would try my best at Greek food in my kitchen and after a few disasters I could even prepare roasted stuffed vegetables. I loved stuffed zucchini leaves.

I had three months to spend here on Samos which would include June, July and August. I wasn’t planning on sitting on my ass. Small as Samos was there was plenty to see.

“The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned But Marvellous” : Chapter 43: Getting the Dogs off My Scent

I met Don Lupara on my veranda overlooking the Bay of Naples. He and I both knew the coward Cyclops had fled to Romania and we knew where he was although not exactly. Although the Cyclops family was decimated and had been absorbed by other families Cyclops still had allies in Naples. Those allies and the Cyclops knew Don Lupara and I were potential threats as Calabrian’s we had vendettas in our blood.

So the first part of the plan was to create the allusion of a split between Don Lupara and I to weaken the threat of a possible joint action. The plan was to create a public rift to create the illusion of a violent split between Don Lupara and myself. Quite simple. I was to shoot Don Lupara in a heated argument in front of one of Naples most famous restaurants. I would shoot him in the arm with a blank! Fake blood would pour out and I would make an orchestrated escape on a scooter. After that I would hightail it to Greece for three months head back to India after that. I would be forgotten. No longer a threat. Then I would pay Cyclops a visit.

A few days later at the Idiota Restaurant Don Lupara and I sat at an outside table for a meal. Yes there were eyes upon us. After our grilled octopus Don Lupara started shouting at me and threw a wine bottle at my head which grazed it. With blood pouring down my face we had a loud argument. He shoved me to the ground. I stood up and shot him in the arm. The patrons took off and off I roared off in a motor scooter driven by one of Don Lupara’s men. I was driven to the outskirts of Naples and had a comfortable hidden room in a truck on its way to Athens. I arrived in Athens and checked into a cheap hotel in Vavarona  on the outskirts of Athens. My next destination was Samos a Greek Island just off the Turkish coast. Full of German and Dutch tourists but almost no Italians and no Italians if you knew where to go.