Oh, Mona, it's good that I saw the new number and returned to the chapter. Thank you very much for reading and liking. Yes, three Niura, or number three, is always symbolic, isn't it!?
This is really intriguing, you beautifully capture the atmosphere of postwar Soviet domestic life, full of cramped apartments, improvised arrangements, and the quiet endurance of children navigating adult decisions.
Woe, another great chapter in your life, and what a life too. The narrative does such an excellent job of pulling the reader into your world. I look forward to more.
My thanks go to all who read and liked my memoir: Metal Moomin, SAMARA,J. WIRROWAC, MARIA CORNETT, ANNA KELLER, SHANE KIMBERLIN, MICHAEL MARTIMER, ANNA COMNENA, FLAVIA HERMETTO, HISTORY EXPLORED, JESSICA GASBARRO, MANDY MORRIS, SHAUNA K. HUNT, ROB WOLLER, Ehud Neor, Mosby Woods, Eugine Terekhin, and others 33 others. You all inspire me to continue posting my memoir.
Portia, please, I am a modest woman. Don't exaggerate, or I zadery svoi nos. My dear, I can't even translate that Russian saying into English. But, thank you!
Thank you for the translation. I never remember any sayings, nor in English, nor in Russian, besides the simplest. My Jewish husband knows and uses them all and asked me who is Russian in our family.
Oh this installment is also more detailed, what a treasure, thank you ❤️ dear Larisa
PS mostly for others who might be interested in various Annas: there are also, without going into all of them, Njushka(very folksy- or little girl's nickname) and much more exotic Annetta/Aneta, after French of course.
My best childhood friend was Annetta, everywhere. (well, of course some teachers still called her "Anya", missing the point). By the way- her wonderful family, which I adored, actually had roots in Voronezh, and relatives there. Wouldn't it be cool if you knew them, by chance.
PPS thank you for mentioning this particular Leningrad "chistka"...not all know...and sharing your family's... tragic experience....
I also thought...for all the troubles, and this and that- I loved coming home...every day...
I so love reading your memoirs
Three Niuras are one hell of a coincidence, I must say!
I've a very funny (wasn't funny then but seems now) story about women on benches...but my comment is already too long💕💫
Chen, thank you. Your comments are always interesting. Now, about names - love Russian changing names. Niusha, wonderful, why I didn't think about It?! Thank you for it. Anetta- never heard in our working district. (Only in literature)The story: women on benches is familiar to all Soviet babushkas, but it could be interesting to hear it here. Tell us. Thank you.
When I came to visit Kiev after we left, in early nineties, I naturally wanted to visit my high school friend I loved, who lived in "microrayon" very far away, all the buildings similar. Like in that famous movie, "the Irony of Fate". I remembered the building though. No one opened the door for the longest time and then luckily her neighbor appeared and explained they moved, but not too far away, and she'll take me to their-now residence. Which she did, and there I was lucky to meet my friend, only she was in a hurry (they didn't have phone so I couldn't call in advance), and we agreed I'll come again in the evening,
Now I arrive in the evening as agreed- but I never wrote down the new address, thinking that of course it's easy to remember, or not thinking at all, being all excited.
So I enter every freaking building , go to the floor/apartment that seem similar and ring or knock- and each time it's a different family.
Ok that's getting harder and harder,- and as all the buildings have benches, and all the benches have babushkas perched on them- I start asking babushkas. Whether they know the family in question.
Now, I'm nineteen ot twenty, jeans and all, and my friend, she was, unlike me, extraordinary beautiful. Her Mom is also a beautiful woman who is now married to someone from friendly Cuba.
So my naive inquires go like this:
-Excuse me so much for troubling you...do you know maybe whether a family such and such lives in the building?
(buildings are huge, very tall, very populated, so I give more detail).
A girl my age, her Mom is married to a foreigner?
Babushkas spoke their mind freely:
-ah, another one. looking for foreigners. Oh we know your ilk. Look at her! What a nerve!
Every bench babushkas would look at me like I came to rob them.
Objective note: I'm a petite girl with -back then especially-quiet demeanor and polite manners. Especially with babushkas.
In short, all that hissing made me desperate...I left never finding the building....
I never saw my friend since (by the way when I returned it appeared she called from a public phone, as I did leave the number at which I stayed, and said she can't make it that day)
She moved since as well, changing many countries, and did find me on Internet several years ago.
I hope some people read your story, because it exceptionally describes our courts' culture. We call our babushkas "sadists," because they spent their days on benches, in the courts, or small parks, which we call "sad." Thank you, April.
Three Aunt Nyura, one after another—LOL, that's very funny.
And as always, the whole story is great!
Oh, Mona, it's good that I saw the new number and returned to the chapter. Thank you very much for reading and liking. Yes, three Niura, or number three, is always symbolic, isn't it!?
This is really intriguing, you beautifully capture the atmosphere of postwar Soviet domestic life, full of cramped apartments, improvised arrangements, and the quiet endurance of children navigating adult decisions.
Thank you for reading and liking. Soviet life was totally heavy nonsense.
Woe, another great chapter in your life, and what a life too. The narrative does such an excellent job of pulling the reader into your world. I look forward to more.
Oh, Roger, Lexi, or some Russian Pupsic could have been very helpful in my situation, i think now...
hahaha I bet
My thanks go to all who read and liked my memoir: Metal Moomin, SAMARA,J. WIRROWAC, MARIA CORNETT, ANNA KELLER, SHANE KIMBERLIN, MICHAEL MARTIMER, ANNA COMNENA, FLAVIA HERMETTO, HISTORY EXPLORED, JESSICA GASBARRO, MANDY MORRIS, SHAUNA K. HUNT, ROB WOLLER, Ehud Neor, Mosby Woods, Eugine Terekhin, and others 33 others. You all inspire me to continue posting my memoir.
Beautifully written
Thank you, Hina!
The second read of your memoir is even better than the first one. That's what excellent writing means.
Portia, please, I am a modest woman. Don't exaggerate, or I zadery svoi nos. My dear, I can't even translate that Russian saying into English. But, thank you!
In English, you could say "to put on airs", but I know you won't, Larisa! And you deserve all praises.
Thank you for the translation. I never remember any sayings, nor in English, nor in Russian, besides the simplest. My Jewish husband knows and uses them all and asked me who is Russian in our family.
Thank you so much, Tanaj Khanuja for reading and liking my memoir about Soviet Russia.
Oh this installment is also more detailed, what a treasure, thank you ❤️ dear Larisa
PS mostly for others who might be interested in various Annas: there are also, without going into all of them, Njushka(very folksy- or little girl's nickname) and much more exotic Annetta/Aneta, after French of course.
My best childhood friend was Annetta, everywhere. (well, of course some teachers still called her "Anya", missing the point). By the way- her wonderful family, which I adored, actually had roots in Voronezh, and relatives there. Wouldn't it be cool if you knew them, by chance.
PPS thank you for mentioning this particular Leningrad "chistka"...not all know...and sharing your family's... tragic experience....
I also thought...for all the troubles, and this and that- I loved coming home...every day...
I so love reading your memoirs
Three Niuras are one hell of a coincidence, I must say!
I've a very funny (wasn't funny then but seems now) story about women on benches...but my comment is already too long💕💫
Chen, thank you. Your comments are always interesting. Now, about names - love Russian changing names. Niusha, wonderful, why I didn't think about It?! Thank you for it. Anetta- never heard in our working district. (Only in literature)The story: women on benches is familiar to all Soviet babushkas, but it could be interesting to hear it here. Tell us. Thank you.
Oh. Then I apologize in advance: it'll be long.
When I came to visit Kiev after we left, in early nineties, I naturally wanted to visit my high school friend I loved, who lived in "microrayon" very far away, all the buildings similar. Like in that famous movie, "the Irony of Fate". I remembered the building though. No one opened the door for the longest time and then luckily her neighbor appeared and explained they moved, but not too far away, and she'll take me to their-now residence. Which she did, and there I was lucky to meet my friend, only she was in a hurry (they didn't have phone so I couldn't call in advance), and we agreed I'll come again in the evening,
Now I arrive in the evening as agreed- but I never wrote down the new address, thinking that of course it's easy to remember, or not thinking at all, being all excited.
So I enter every freaking building , go to the floor/apartment that seem similar and ring or knock- and each time it's a different family.
Ok that's getting harder and harder,- and as all the buildings have benches, and all the benches have babushkas perched on them- I start asking babushkas. Whether they know the family in question.
Now, I'm nineteen ot twenty, jeans and all, and my friend, she was, unlike me, extraordinary beautiful. Her Mom is also a beautiful woman who is now married to someone from friendly Cuba.
So my naive inquires go like this:
-Excuse me so much for troubling you...do you know maybe whether a family such and such lives in the building?
(buildings are huge, very tall, very populated, so I give more detail).
A girl my age, her Mom is married to a foreigner?
Babushkas spoke their mind freely:
-ah, another one. looking for foreigners. Oh we know your ilk. Look at her! What a nerve!
Every bench babushkas would look at me like I came to rob them.
Objective note: I'm a petite girl with -back then especially-quiet demeanor and polite manners. Especially with babushkas.
In short, all that hissing made me desperate...I left never finding the building....
I never saw my friend since (by the way when I returned it appeared she called from a public phone, as I did leave the number at which I stayed, and said she can't make it that day)
She moved since as well, changing many countries, and did find me on Internet several years ago.
I hope some people read your story, because it exceptionally describes our courts' culture. We call our babushkas "sadists," because they spent their days on benches, in the courts, or small parks, which we call "sad." Thank you, April.
❤️
"Sadist" is cool! No, it never appeared to us, to call them that. I always learn something new!
So, now you know another meaning of-- Sadist!
Interesting reading. Insight on others and their points of origin
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I love your stories Larisa they take me to another world full of different textures and facets of our strange but commonly shared human lives
Thank you, Jane. You are so right. We share the same humanities of our so different lives. It is so true.