"...A good meal stays in your memory. The body it leaves fast, but a memory slow". Meir Shalev

“On the way back I always sing them «Schlaf, Kindchen,” says Carsten. His son is two years old, so he knows his onions. «Where else will they hear a German lullaby? Nobody cares for the historic facts. They are here for the experience! And this is where we step in».

Carsten is my boss. We are having a coffee at the main square of Maastricht, NL. We have been bringing elderly Australian tourists from Germany for a while now. It’s a part of the European river cruise for them. It’s 2,5 hours talking non-stop on the bus for me: a tough exercise for my memory and vocal cords, but I love it.

“You will thank me later,” he promises. I stare in disbelief.

My today’s driver is Andrey from Kazakhstan. He is tough, giggly and very kind. If people like German lullabies, why wouldn’t they like a Russian one? „Goodnight, little ones“ is a cross-generational hit from a Soviet TV-show for children, a lullaby that sent millions of Soviet children to bed.

Andrey agrees immediately.

Andrey turns out to be amazing singer. My voice is shaking. When it’s over, the bus grows silent; a round of applause and a request for translation follow. I remark that “Rainbow-riding” and “firebird” sound quite weird in English.

On arrival, I receive the biggest tip ever.

Before we leave, a woman approaches me.
“Katya, thank you for the tour! Could you write down the lyrics of this song?”
I am confused. She her flawless Australian English dazzles me. Why would she need it? How could anyone be impressed by such an amateur performance?

Then I get it.
“Do you speak Russian?”
“I do. I would like to learn it with my grandchildren.”
“But you’ve never heard it before?”
“They brought me to Australia, when I was a baby.”

I do the math. She looks 65; the show is turning 50 this year. Right! We continue in English, I want her husband to understand. Two pairs of eyes are staring at me with curiosity and gratitude. The sensation of the discovery!

I don’t believe in coincidences and it’s definitely one of them. The first time I try a public performance, there is a) singing driver to support me b) a lullaby to share and c) a fellow traveler with Russian roots to receive a gift. Somewhere in Australia somebody’s family will join the club of the “little ones” aware of the “firebird”.

When I get home, I listen to it again. I realize, that some cords are stronger than my vocal ones, some songs trigger more than fragrances. I should call my mom. And yes, I will thank Carsten later.