Love and kholodets

It was Gannas' birthday on thursday. I had asked her ages ago when it was and forgotten. Hearing the phone ring non-stop the cobwebs started to clear. I've been giving her some space these last few days because she's been really down.My gentle efforts to get her back to her old self just seemed to irritate her so i decided to give her some space , even though I've been worried about her.As one of life's paid up interventionists its has been hard for me to leave her alone but i just decided to let her roll with her feelings while i kept a watchful eye in the background.Anyway friday morning came and as i was leaving for school i asked her when her birthday is.

'It was yesterday' she said diffidently

'I thought so .. and you didn't say a word to me about it'

'What for.. there's nothing to celebrate.It's not like it was before... now it's just misery'


'But it was your birthday..'

'Don't worry about it.Anyway, we've got guests coming at the weekend'

I'd vaguely heard about this russian tradition of having guests over for your birthday. I was running late for school so i just said 'Ok' , gave her a peck on the cheek as i normally do and darted out of the door.



Later that evening on the way home i bought her a big bouquet of russet coloured roses and tiger lillies.She wasn't home when i got in so i just put them in some water . When she got back i lead her to the kitchen and showed her the flowers .


She looked at me in disbelief , 'This is exactly why didn't tell you it was my birthday.How much did you pay for these?' Flowers aren't cheap here.


'I've forgotten'

'You've forgotten ?!'

'Yep, I've forgotten'

She looked at me, started laughing and came over and kissed me on the cheek 'Thank you darling... and what have you eaten today... all you ever do is drink , drink , drink . Did you eat the cutlets that i made you?' She walked out of the kitchen to look for a couple of vases , asking herself aloud what she is going to do with this crazy woman she has in her house. I knew then that my russian mother of old was on her way back.


In the wee small hours of the morning she's in the kitchen and i walk in and notice a a pot with a pigs foot and a piece of meat in it. I know instantly that we're going to have the dreaded kholodets .It's apparently a Ukrainian dish and probably the only thing Russia loves about the Ukraine right now. However, i eat it only to make Ganna happy but this chopped meat and vegetables in jelly dish is never going to make it into my culinary repertoire unless by some quirk of fate i marry a Russian man.

'I'll put the meat on to boil now. It needs at least 6 hours boiling for the meat to be really tender'

Naturally i get a little concerned at having to go to sleep with a boiling pot of pig foot and beef on the fire.

Ganna laughs at my consternation. 'Don't worry, this isn't the first time I've done it you know and as you can see I'm still alive !'

I laugh with her but i can't help remembering the times that I've told her something she was cooking was burning.I'm really tired. In my head I'm thinking 'Do not go to sleep, don't go to sleep' .As if making those words a mantra rather than a command would save me from 1st degree burns caused by boiling pig foot.

I get into bed and I'm awake for about 5 minutes before i decide i can't keep my eyes open anymore. I turn out the light and fall asleep holding onto my little bag of worry people under my pillow.

I wake up saturday morning and trust me i bless the day. Immediately as i reflect on how great it was to be alive the smell of boiling pig foot and beef assaults my senses.Then I'm reminded of mum boiling cow-heel to make Guyanese Pepper Pot. It tastes really really good but boiling cow heel (or indeed the pig foot that gives it that sticky consistency) definitely ain't a perfume that will rock your world anytime soon. Isn't it funny how strong the link is between smell and memory ? Dried fish and palm oil reminds me of Sierra Leone . Strangely, it soothes me , mainly because i love eating with my hands. Eating with my hands reminds me of dad.Remembering dad reminds me Nigeria. Remembering Nigeria reminds me of the Ibo-Guyanese blood that is my life.And so it goes on.

Sunday morning we start the food preparation. I make my first Olivier salad (Russian salad).Another much loved russian dish that has many variations so take your pick and then go on and make your own variant , everybody here seems to.We chop and prep for ages .Table linen out , table dressed, plates set, platters of food out. We wait for the guests.They start to come and it is immediately obvious that this tradition is about bringing love in abundance to a home. It's not about how much you spent on your outfit, how much drink you bring, who's going to play the music, wanting to know know who'll be at the party so that you can decide whether it is worthy of your presence or making foul comments about how much someone didn't spend on a gift. This beautiful tradition is about focusing attention and love on the person whos' birthday you are celebrating a and nothing should distract from that.

It was a real test of my russian to so totally immersed in family life.Ganna and Ira (her daughter) speak to me in russian so everybody took their cue from that. Of course it immediately obvious to anyone that i am not biological family but i am accepted as such .So, on sunday in many respects the love wasn't only given to Ganna it was given to me too. It was truly a joyful day. I will take and keep this tradition with me always.Back home i think that we have forgotten that the best celebrations are not the ones based on consumerist principles. True love and coming together to celebrate someone or each other are things that we can do and give in abundance for free.

Jowls

I've decided to add another colour to the thousands that there are already on the colour charts that you get from the DIY store.You know the ones . Those charts that you spend ages over ,then you buy every sample pot within a whisper of the colour that you like. You take said pots home and paint patches at every conceivable angle because you could not conceivably buy said paint without seriously scrutinising its refractive qualities.So, paint on the wall , refaction under scrutiny , you ask your bambinos for their opinions which inevitably and absolutely do not converge with yours.You stand in the middle of the room for some time reflecting on why as USUAL you have to make all important decisions by yourself. Somehow ignoring the fact that apart from when you want them to agree with you ,you have always been proud of the fact that you have created and raised 3 beautiful individuals fully capable of independent thought and judgement .

Anyway,off you go to the DIY and spend a stupid amount on 3 huge tins of'Calico Bliss'.In the middle of painting the room you decide to pop in see a friend . You admire the colour on her walls It looks remarkably like what you've chosen ... great friends think alike etc,etc .Then you ask her what the colour it is and without any thought for your feelings she you quite blithely tells you that its MAGNOLIA!!!!Fucking magnolia ... no 'Smetana in the sunlight' no 'Yogic Transition' just frigging MAGNOLIA. She notices the change in your features and asks whats wrong and while thinking that you could have saved yourself £20 a tin you resist the temptation to tell her that you want to graffiti her walls.

I've called this new colour, that should be in all the shops soon , Moscow Grey.White with huge accents of charcoal , royal blue and sludge.Refracts no light and is probably why one the classic features of Russian womens faces as they age are jowls.This Moscow Grey, added to the fact that this is not a smiling culture are a perfect recipe for jowls. If you stay here long enough you too will get them. I come home and deliberately exercise my smile muscles.I'm not taking all these trace elements, and slathering my skin with all my home made lotions only to have all my efforts lost in two huge ellipses of skin hanging of my cheekbones .

Light snow has fallen again. The sun doesn't seem to stay long here and any thoughts that you have that at last spring might be around the corner are always based on false hope.This city is unbelievably grimy.The filth on the cars is of the type you would only see back home in the winter on cars that have been taking part in a forest rally or have been doing some serious off-roading.If you ask where all this dirt comes from ,every person that you ask here will give you a different answer. Ho hum, i suppose at least when snow falls you can't see one of my pet peeves over here... spit gobs .

I was hoping that the snow would hold off today for totally vain reasons.I'm going out to salsa this evening and i wanted to wear the rather fab boots that J bought me for my birthday. I carry a rucksack all the time and i thought that it would be rather nice and grown up not go out with it as per. I'll have to take it now just to carry my boots.No matter, I'll go out into yet another grimy Moscow evening and in the ambiance of a salsa evening I'll dance like a feisty Latina and not give a fuck who's watching . I'll be smiling... so should you. Happy Saturday :)

Hold your head up

Happy days .I have the internet at home now. Ganna took pity on me and got a TV and Internet package. So, no more trying to find a quiet spot in an internet cafe and furtively go into my bank account. In Russia you have to really worry about doing that publicly but, until last week, i didn't have a choice.

Yesterday, i asked Ganna to go with me to Ismailova. A friend of mine is going to be in England at the end of the month and i want her take a couple of things over for me .... a birthday present and some things things for the kids. Usual stuff .Part of Ismailova is a huge tourist market with seemingly every matroshka ( the famous dolls within dolls) ever made on sale. There's also an interesting antique section there too which is great if military medals are your thing.

I asked Ganna to go with me because the couple of times that i have been on my own have at times been unpleasant.There are men there from the Caucasus and it's the young ones who are the problem. I don't know which country they are from but they aren't the oriental side of the Causasus. The Oriental Caucasians will stare but they are essentially gentle people.This lot in the market are different altogether.The young men are filthy vulgar louts who give muslims a bad name. I took Ganna there are my minder !

It's surprising the effect that she had on stall holders especially the Russian ones. They heard her chatting away to me in Russian and occasionally having our little 'mother -daughter' disputes ..in Russian of course. The effect on them was noticeable .I got what i wanted at 'Russian' and not 'tourist' price.Even got some extras thrown in with the stuff i bought the kids. Ganna's price negotiating skills were quite straight -forward. She'd find out the price and then when they told her she told them not to be ridiculous !I bought a jewellery box ..the tourist price -1700 rubles. Gannas 'negotiated 'deal for me 1000 rubles.. it took her about 30 seconds !! At todays exchange rate that was a saving to me of about £14.

Anyway, shopping done as she usually does if she's out with me , she linked her arm in mine. that's when the comments from the louts started. She was oblivious to it all. I muttered something under my breath and she asked me what was wrong. I told her and i also told her about the first time i went there as i walked out of the market one of the louts thought it would be a good idea to give make pig noises as i walked past. She told me that i mustn't let it bother me, that i had met other people in the market who weren't bothered by what i look like, that there will always be people like those louts but I'm to keep on going and not let them stop me doing anything. Then she said' It's sad .It never used to be like this. We have a saying here... we say that there are many good people but the bad ones are better organised !' I couldn't help but laugh if we look back in history and at the world around us we can see how depressingly true that saying is.

You know if you ever want to ponder the meaning of existence come to Russia.If it does nothing else it makes you think.

On lighter note my russian has improved so much.When i first came over i really didn't think that it ever would but I'm having so many moments of total understanding of what I'm hearing that i surprise myself.I'm not consciously translating every word anymore. It's hard to describe whats happening but now rather than hearing , consciously thinking and consciously translating. now I'm beginning to hear and understand. I know that I'm still doing the thinking and translating but it's happening somewhere in the back of my consciousness. It doesn't sound like much but after a year without ANY language lessons at all and then having to study with people in their early twenties , it took more than a leap of faith to ever believe that i could make up ground and have the understanding that i now have. After all the sacrifice ,all i can say is how sweet it is.