Hmm...so someone IS interested in this eh? Well ok, I might as well waste a couple of minutes writing about myself. It's fun anyway!
I was brought "back" to Minsk when I was 2 months old. The house where we lived was a wooden house on a chicken leg. We had 1 room for us all (mom, dad, and later, my little brother (not that he's that little, or was for that matter)).
My grandma (and grandpa and great-grandma) lived in a big flat on the top floor in a 9-floor house somewhere at the other end of the city. We used to visit them quite often.
I remember...no, in fact, I was told this...when I was about 2 months old, my grandma used to carry me around her apartment, pointing at random objects and trying to get me to tell her what they are. Like, for example, she'd point at a clock and say "Dearie, say 'clock', please, darling - 'clock', say it..." (only in Russian of course). And great-granny would shout from the kitchen - "what, are you crazy? will a two-months-old child say 'clock' to you? are you completely out of your mind?"...
When a year later I said my first word - it was "bababababababa" (which in Russian means granny-granny-granny, or something of that sort). And my grandmother jumped up and down with joy - "he is talking about me! yeah!" and great-granny would say "oh shut up, it's me, he's talking about!".Kindergarden wasn't that fun, except for the first minute every morning, when I waved goodbye to mom and dad from the window, and they'd wave back...
I was sent to school when I was six (which is usual), straight to year 1 (which is unusual, because at that time school used to start from grade 0) - I knew how to read and write already (in 2 languages as well). So I ended up being a year younger than everybody else... And that was that. Oh yeah, I was always good at maths as well.From early age dad had been teaching me chess, and I'm quite a strong player. (Especially if I don't bloody rush every move, and think for a minute instead!!!) Dad used to take me to competitions round Belorussia. We flew to Pinsk together and went to Krychev (where I forgot my pyjamas under the pillow).
First year in school was ok, but the second year was better. I left the old school #111 and was sent to school #87 (where English had been taught), but I knew some English already. Again, I was a year younger than everybody else (and hence shorter too, but not anymore, HAH).
A year later we left Minsk and ended up in Israel. And the story continues here.