Buying vegetables has never been more exciting!

I'll admit...when I first got to Moscow, I was too afraid to talk to people. If they asked me for directions, I shrugged, at restaurants I just pointed, and at the grocery store I just handed them money. It was terrifying to think of even uttering a word in this crazy language they call Russian, which is often muttered at such a speed it's hard to tell whether someone is angry or happy.

So I cheated. In Moscow, like most modern cities, globalization has taken over, and super markets and department stores reign supreme, where you can find anything you want at Auchaun (a popular French super market that's about the size of Wallmart), or at least at the 24 hour mini-mart on every corner, including mine. It's great, you go in, you stare at the words for a while on the labels, fortunately the numbers are legible to even a naive American who can sort of divide approximately by 30 (the average conversion of a 30 rubles is 1 US dollar...or it was).

But ever since I started taking my Russian lessons, I've become a little braver, and have decided it's time to experience the true Russian market - Soviet style.

Back in Soviet days people had to wait in line for their rations, which were often handed to them by the clerks. It seems to me that the old style grocery store accommodates this well: you have to ask for everything. There are no aisles, there's not much you can just grab yourself in this large square store. When you walk inside, you feel like you're in a different era, with wooden floors and rickety old windows that probably have seen better days. And yet everything is neat and tidy inside because you have to politely ask one of the many grocers to grab you those tomatoes, or grab you that bag of flour. And if this isn't perfect practice for speaking Russian, I don't know what is. Today I asked for my two tomatoes (два помидоры, pronounced "dvah pohmeedooreeh") and was pleased when I understood how much they cost without looking at a cash register screen: 50 рублей.

I decided to use my newfound confidence to check out a "kiosk." In order to explain what a kiosk is, all you need to imagine is a box with a panel of doors/windows on one side, tempting you with anything from shampoo to purses to fruits to electronics. The one I found happens to sell my absolute favorite: лаваш (lavash), a bread that has made it into Russian culture, compliments of Georgia. With my poor Russian the baker deduced that I must be from either England or America. "Aha!" he grinned when I admitted I was American. "what, er, shtart?" "извините?" I replied. I gave him an apologetic smile. "Shtart, er, New Jersey, New York, California!" "California," I replied and he smiled. "Da....Arnold Schwarzenegger!" I laughed all the way home. California may be well known for its nice beaches and beautiful cities, but nobody will ever forget us, thanks to dear old Arnold.