The Tiniest of them all

Whenever I am expected to write a post, I never tend to do it. Not because I'm trying to be a rebel or anything (I'm too much of a goody-goody) but mostly because I don't quite know how to begin. 

I could start with talking about my very first day in Moscow which was 1 whole year and almost 1 whole day ago-today. I'm huge on telling my students to find adjectives to describe things so I will follow suit. Bewildered, terrified, hopeless. These are the words I would choose to pin-point the Ali arriving in Moscow. Dragging my extremely heavy green coffin behind me, trying to catch up with Jackie and Maree, with strange people speaking a strange language around me, I could barely breathe. I just kept thinking that I had made a horrible mistake. 
After leaving the airport to get on the train, I felt winded by the biting Moscow-cold and slipping, fell flat on my face. I didn't have time to cry because I would miss the train, but I remember wondering how soon was too soon to leave.

Yesterday morning, 1 whole year later, I woke up in my flat in Moscow with Red Square just around the corner, put on my big-people-teacher-outfit, packed my bag for school (complete with a snack) and got onto a different kind of train, with my same friend who has sat beside me on many trains, taxis, bar stools, benches, couches and beds and went to my job at the school where I feel I was always destined to end up, even on that day that I ripped my jeans while falling. 

In my introductory blog post last year, I wrote about the Matryoshka doll and spoke about how I wanted to uncover my layers to find my "tiny doll" right in the middle:
 "The solid, tiniest doll right in the centre is the one that intrigued me most. She was protected by all the other dolls that encompassed her so she must have been special."
What I will say is that I started achieving this from that very first slip. Within the first month, I had uncovered so many of those layers, I felt all I had left was that solid little doll that people mistake to underestimate.  I have discovered that the little doll was encompassed in all these layers but it wasn't to protect her fragility. This little tiny doll could protect herself and just quite liked having those layers around her. 

One of my layers, comprises of two very special people who set out on this journey with me as the tag-along and have never stopped looking back to make sure I was still there. Maree and Jackie have too discovered the most incredible things about themselves and the world and this is evident in how they carry themselves and live their daily lives. Celebrating with a dinner out last night, we sat and spoke (as we do) about the best things and the worst things about this past year and we have shared an experience that is so unbelievable and unique to us that in 10 years time, we might still be able to do that. Thank you my amazing Matryoshkas.
Another layer is my always-there-for-you family. My cute mom, my lame-jokes dad, my wise oldest big brother, my crazy-in-a-good-way other big brother, my loyal uncle and my precious aunt have seldom felt extremely far away because between the six of them, one is always bound to reply. They have let me go and watched my spread my wings while they shouted from beneath to go higher and higher, and no one would refuse an offer like that. I love you.
My last layer (at the risk of this sounding like an Oscar acceptance speech) is my friends. Those at home, those abroad, those here, those there. Laughter has never been in short supply when they have a hand in it as well as an encouraging (and sometimes necessary discouraging) word. I miss you but I'll probably text you later anyway and tell you that.
The layers are necessary because it's more fun unpacking them to see what the tiny doll is made of, not to be stripped away.

And guess what? It's been a year since I last slipped in Moscow. 

For Granny Eileen

My dearest granny.

In your heart, you found a way to connect with each and every person who crossed your path. Not only did you connect with them, but you interrogated them, gave them a lecture, inspired them and by the time you were finished, they were in awe of you. 

Today, I giggled through my tears because every memory I have of you leaves me feeling happy and grateful. Happy remembering your complete unique way of living, and so incredibly grateful for the hundreds of lessons you taught me. 

You never let go of your inner child and I will never forget her. At about seven, I remember us on the pavement outside our house laughing along as we soldier-marched hand in hand while you shouted, "Left, right, left, right, left, left!" and then did a dramatic turn to end it off. I never ever cared what people thought when we were doing things because how could they not know that you were the most intelligent person in the world? 

I remember over school holidays, you would park your impeccably-taken-care-of blue car in our driveway and claim your territory of all our holiday plans and at any moment of debate, we were simply told to "Go play in the traffic my friend", and then you would laugh hard to soften the blow. 

You taught us to question everything, to ask anything, to try, to investigate, to look up words, to read read read, to not use books as skates, to make pancakes, to play outside, to eat everything on our plates, to appreciate, to find a way, to talk things through and with your amazing teaching skills, you taught us to love. 

I love you so much gran, my heart is so sore and sad that you are no longer here, but because you had such an impact and effect on us (whether forced or not), that we all have "granny Eileen" like features. They are easily identified because they are so distinct. Every time I encounter the word 'environment', I think of you. I turn on the stove, I hear your voice in my head. Finger painting, play dough, jungle oats and syrup, compost, coke, jelly, guava juice, fold out tables, cooking rice, long beaded necklaces, witches, slippers with pom-poms, Greek yoghurt, silverware. The lessons and conversations were endless, and so was the love. 

Thank you for the happy and invigorating environment you always created for us. You are the best person I know. 

Rest peacefully my precious gran, we will always miss you.