When I lived in Paris every Easter we went to this wonderful Russian church in the 19th arrondissement. It was quite an experience since the area around the church was somewhat ghetto-ish and it was almost a magical experience – after walking with fear of being mugged (the Eastern Orthodox mass starts around 11 o’clock at night) – to see it all lit up, standing on the top of a hill like something out of a fairy tale.

One Easter, a British photojournalist was there to cover the event and she was standing right next to Maria and me. The priest was really something – he looked like Santa Claus on Prozac. He was walking around, thrusting the incense burner at people, saying Christ has risen. At one point he saw the photojournalist who was taking pictures in a very serious manner, thrust the incense burner in her direction and said Uluibaite (which in Russian means “smile”.)

Her jaw DROPPED.

Maria and I, seeing how truly shocked she was asked her why she reacted like that. She looked at us in dismay and asked Did HE just say, “I want to bite you????”

Happy Easter to all!

This goes out to you, who met me at the airport ever since I was 3 years old and drove me to your wonderful house where I would spend the most amazing summers of my childhood.

This goes out to you, who when you saw me wearing skirts,  told me to stop being so girly and put on a pair of shorts.

This goes out to you, who taught me how to “drive” a horse carriage.

This goes out to you, who used to throw a watermelon to the ground, thus break it into pieces and offer me a delicious snack in the middle of day.

This goes out t you, who found the strength to watch me fall from the trees I was climbing, so I can learn a lesson. And then soothed me and told me that A hero without a wound is not a hero.

This goes out to you, who with a loving smile told everybody who would listen how I didn’t leave the house through the front door, but rather jumped over the fence.

This goes out to you, who told me that – yes! – our car could indeed fly and spent endless hours looking with me for its wings in your backyard.

This goes out to you, who every time when you saw me, pushed everyone aside and gave me a hug and cried with happiness.

This goes out to you, who every summer, before I came over, bought a goat, so I can have fresh milk in the morning. And then every summer got really upset that I hated goat milk and sold the goat.

This goes out to you, who understood how important it was to me to build a wooden house, and left the work you had to help me find the proper wood for it.

This goes out to you, who got up after massive heart attacks to work your garden, so that we have “quality” fruit and vegetables to eat.

This goes out to you, who gave me a very small glass of beer with a lot of foam at lunch since I was 4 – because with a little beer the hot summer lunches were more enjoyable.

This goes out to you, who told me not to quit smoking, but to smoke a little bit – like you: 3 cigarettes a day, one after each meal, but oh-so-enjoyable!

This goes out to you, who believed in education so much and who promised me anything I wanted if I aced math. And who didn’t complain when I asked for new furniture for my entire room.

This goes out to you, who had happy dreams of swimming, just because I could swim and that made you so happy.

This goes out to your big heart. This goes out to you, who loved me most of all, for I loved you and I will always love you back.

This goes out to you, Grandpa. Rest in peace!

On January 31st my grandmother turned 80 and Monika’s Musings turned one.

My granny has achieved a lot in her life; I didn’t do too badly with Monika’s Musings – not as much as I had vouched for, but an average of a post per week is not too bad, eh.

I wish them both many, many great years to come!

Thanks for tuning in.