There was a nice but sad party Monday at the Swedish Embassy. After four years of living and working in Moscow, Lars Kleberg, the cultural attache, and his wife Maria Fridh, a theater director, are returning home.In a sense, the Swedes were continuing a tradition started by the Americans. I remember in late 1970s and most of the 1980s, the U.S. Embassy and Spaso House were among the centers of modern culture in socialist-realist Moscow. They had great American jazz, blues and folk performers playing there together with Soviet musicians; they had exhibitions of contemporary painting and photography; they had actors' readings and performances as well as screenings of the latest American films.All that ended in 1987, when there was a goodbye party for the enterprising and popular cultural officer Mark Taplin. The situation now is totally different, as Americana is far from being a forbidden fruit in Russia. But do the people at the U.S. Embassy really believe that McDonalds, Michael Jackson and Terminator II are enough to represent their country's art and creativity? In any case, I get the impression that less is known here now about contemporary American high culture than during Iron Curtain times.The case of Lars Kleberg is just the opposite. Sweden is a relatively small country, known to most Russians only thanks to ice hockey, Volvo and ABBA. More sophisticated types would also mention Bergman, Strindberg and IKEA. Nevertheless, during their stay in Moscow, Lars and Maria managed to create a permanent feast of Swedish arts in town -- and beyond. I personally have worked with Flesh Quartet, a brilliant art-rock combo, and with an improvised jazz group called Lokomotiv Konkret. Almost every month there was something new and interesting: photo exhibitions; theater performances; film retrospectives; or even famous writers coming to give readings.On top of that, the wonderful Kleberg family have left a precious and unique legacy: the legendary and already much missed pea soup parties. On the first Thursday of every month, at about 7 P.M., their dacha-like cottage near Park Kultury metro welcomed a small crowd of artists, poets, critics and other intellectual types, and gave them spiritual, and edible, food. First came huge bowls of pea soup with smoked ham and mustard, followed by Russian bliny with cranberry jam and whipped cream. Everything was delicious, especially in winter."Side dishes" to the main course varied from music played by Moscow musicians to poetry readings and slide shows. Of the dozen or so parties I attended, my favorite was when the Swedish magician performed. I watched his tricks from close up, but I still couldn't get them, especially the one where a playing card got stuck on the ceiling.Actually, this whole Thursday venture was magic, with its Christmas-like ambience, Swedish comfort, and loftiness worthy of the old Russian intelligentsia. It was a completely different life going on beyond the tall fence of the residence. Little by little, the pea soup conventions became a true cultural institution in Moscow, and without them and their hosts, the lives of many would not be the same. On behalf of them I say: Maria and Lars and kids, you are welcome back! If you can't get posted here by the Swedish diplomatic corps, I'm sure that very few people will object to Lars Kleberg becoming Russia's culture minister. And pea soup for all!nBits and pieces: The basis for the Chubais vs. Luzhkov conflict is simple and obvious. Luzhkov does not want some of the hottest properties in Moscow -- like hotels and open-air food markets -- to be privatized because so far they bring a lot of money into the city budget. The only interesting thing here is the biased way the mass media's has reacted to the clash, in which Chubais is apparently in the right. The media's well-organized support for Luzhkov shows once more how dependent our "free" press actually is.Another case of shameless media lobbying is the panic over the possible cancellation of the president's decree restricting the activities of foreign banks in Russia. Again, the case is clear: If it happens, domestic commercial banks are in grave danger, but everyone else -- including tens of millions of so-called "people" (read clients) -- will benefit. The latter is never mentioned by the Russian media; instead, they cry about the destruction of the "national banking system" (their principal advertisers, actually). You better change your mind, guys: Chase Manhattan will pay you much more.