Demolition Derby, Moscow Style

The beauty of living in a foreign country is that the everyday, mundane becomes an adventure. Like today’s trip to the grocery store. I have no car in Moscow. This means I can walk to the local shop, which has a nice but small selection. But of course I can only buy as much as I can carry. Six pack of Diet Coke? Do I really want to lug that several blocks home? I don’t think so! So I buy one or two cans and stick to the basic essentials.

But today’s shopping trip was to the big mega grocery, Aushan. (Spelled very differently in Cyrillic, of course.) The school provided a door-to-door shuttle bus service for teachers who wanted to go, so it was a chance to stock up on some of those big, heavy items you don’t want to lug through the streets. Aushan is in a shopping mall along with an Ikea and several other stores you might find at any mall—clothing, makeup, athletic goods, etc. Many of the “old” teachers absolutely refuse to go into Aushan and spend their time at Ikea and the other shops. I did that on the first trip. But after a week of grilled cheese sandwiches on dry, brown bread, I realized I was going to have to bite the bullet and go for it if I wanted any variety in my home cuisine.

The rest of the story is best told in the inner monologue that was going through my head as I made my way through the store. It went something like this….”OK, here’s the bread section...Wow! Are those croissants? I think I’ll buy them and stick them in the freezer. Who knows when I’ll see those again? This is not bad at all! It’s not *too* crowded—what were those teachers talking about? OK, here’s some meat. But what kind is it? What the heck *is* that??? Oh, here’s something ground…hmmm, ground…something. I’ll just read the label. ‘XFKEKSLLJS’. OK, that was helpful. NOT. It *looks* like hamburger. Surely it’s hamburger? Bump, crash. Dang! Watch where you’re going, Mister.

Oh, here’s the CMETAHA aisle. Wow….a whole aisle of CMETAHA…1%, 6%, 9%, 13%. I see you can get your smetana in any percent you want. Good lord these Russians love their smetana! And their percents. But what *is* Smetana? I think I’ll buy some just to find out. Bump, crash. Gosh, it’s getting a lot more crowded. Oh, here we have things in jars. Beets. Yeck. Bump, crash. Crap. What on God’s green earth is that woman doing dressing her kid in the buggy? She is trying clothes on her kid in the buggy! How bizarre. Hmm…here’s some kind of tomatoey looking thing. Bump, crash. I’ll just read the label. Oh…it’s CVEDJFKE. Of course.

Oh good! A produce section. Bump, crash. They’ve got a nice selection of vegetables. I think I’ll get some bell peppers. Good lord, look at those people pushing and shoving to get their produce weighed. Crash! Bang! It’s a shark feeding frenzy! Do I really need bell peppers? Maybe not. Hey, here’s a machine no one’s using! I’ll just quickly weigh…weigh what? What’s ‘bell pepper’ in Russian? Which button do I push? How the heck do I know which one to push?? There’s not even any pictures! Maybe I’ll just get those wrapped ones already priced. I don’t really need 15 bell peppers, but at least I won't have to push any buttons.

Now heading for the main aisle….AGHHHH. This must be what salmon feel like heading upstream? At least *they* get to spawn at the end of their trip. Maybe I should walk on the other side…no, there is no other side! People are just jamming baskets—CRASH!! SLAM! BANG! OH my God I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stand this! Russians have certainly embraced capitalism in a big way. I’ll just finish this aisle and go get in line but I need some cleaning products. This * looks* like it might be something for cleaning. It’s blue…Windex is blue, therefore it must be…glass cleaner. Analogies, 101. I’ll just check the label… TEWYIOIZIE. Oh great. Wait a minute—the bald guy with the earring. Heyyyyy! Mr. Clean?? Is that you??? ‘Mr. Power’. Mr. Power??

I finally made it to the checkout. What??? Cash only?? They don’t take credit cards?? Are you kidding me?? I hope I have enough cash. Some of these lines are twenty deep! Oh my word. Wait…here’s a short line. It’s only got two buggies ahead of me. Two very full buggies ahead of me. Wait a minute! Who are these people cutting in line? They seem to know that woman at the front. What do you mean… you can save places in line for your whole extended family?? Are you kidding me? I would complain but they won’t know what the heck I’m saying. I’ll just stand here and glare at them. Glare, glare, glare. Well, that certainly feels better.

One hour later…Cashier: ‘XVJDKKJFKS?’ Me: “huh?” Cashier, louder this time: ‘XVJDKKJFKS?’ Oh, is that Russian for ‘paper or plastic’? I don’t see any paper… plastic it is, then. And since I don’t know what she’s saying I’ll just hand her some really big bills. Oh lord, she’s calling all over the store for change. Oh no, people are glaring at me. Glare, glare, glare. I’m sorry! Here’s the change…finally! Well that only took… three hours.

I won’t share the inner monologue of my trip across the parking lot back to the bus, because I can honestly say I have never cussed louder, longer, or harder in my whole entire life. I would have put a whole fleet of sailors to shame. Let’s just say a Russian parking lot leaves something to be desired; by the time I got to the bus I had dodged about 352 cars, had fallen into a pothole large enough for a small submarine doing reconnaissance work, and had actually lifted that whole entire shopping cart up over not one, not 2, but at least 3 eight-inch high curbs, in the rain.. And that was following the pedestrian signs! I think from now on I’ll stick to the neighborhood store… sometimes it pays to listen to the “old timers”.