Game Changer

I've had some recent requests for a refresher on the state of grocery shopping in Moscow. I have, during phone conversations, referred to the big box store Auchan as Wal-mart on crack, until I realized, I have no idea the effects of crack and if that parallel even applies. Well anyway. Here's the long and short of it.

My favorite day to grocery shop is Tuesday. This is not something new, I've always had favorite days. When I was a waitress it was Thursday. When I was in college it was Monday. Now that I'm a homeschooling, June Cleaver, it's Tuesday. I have my reasons. Traffic is less on that day (usually) and the store shelves are stocked better.

Anyway, I load up the kids at 9am into our van-mobile. We recently discovered there is a plug that comes out of the engine and if this is plugged into the garage wall, the heat takes about 60 seconds to blow hot into the interior. Russian winter has been very disappointing this year and has barely dropped below 30. I can't even believe I wrote that...

So we're in the van and we drive 19 kilometers which could take anywhere from 25 minutes to 1 1/2 hours. I pack snacks. When we arrive at the store, we have to pull two carts, both with four swivel wheels, and brave the jam packed aisles of food stuffs, pallets, and zambonis. There is no respect for rush hour and entire aisles are closed for forklift restocking. The air smells of fish. Not the good kind. We push, shove, grab, and forge our way to one of the 120 checkouts, each staffed, each with about 3 people in line. Whenever I check out--anywhere--the security guard comes over to stand at the end of the lane and observe. I'm so used to it, I don't even notice anymore. Now I just nod my head at him and load my stuff.

After loading, bagging, and reloading my monthly groceries on a belt the size of a yardstick and paying thousands of rubles, I sweat my way back to the van to load it some more. Sometimes the exit security guards search my kids. We return home, 4 hours later, after losing a whole day of school, and try to calm our frazzled, overstimulated nerves.

Obviously the title of this entry implies something exciting. There's a new grocery store in town. It's called O'KEY. I timed the trip. It takes 5 and a half minutes to get there, with only one stop light. There is ample parking, well lit, wide aisles, a children's play area, 60 cashiers, and all the products I prefer. To me, it is the difference of being at a private spa compared to a public squatty-potty.

When we used to shop at Auchan, we would lose a whole day of school and precocious Number 3 would moan and whine the whole trip. Today she said, "Can we go back to the store again tomorrow?" Today as I headed to my filthy mode of transportation, a cart guy helped me load my groceries into the trunk and then closed the hatch. I may have bat my eyelashes. I'm not sure if my life in Russia will ever be the same.

New Year in Moscow

A wise person once told me that whatever you love about your spouse while you’re dating tends to make you nuts later. For my husband and me this is true regarding his spontaneity. So this year, I got ahead of the game and pulled the sudden scheme of going to downtown on New Year’s Eve. Of course, I had been pondering this for weeks before I was ready to jump on it. He was geeked. We secured childcare and left the house at 6pm.

First we went to our friends’ house to share in some traditional food, fireworks, and festivities. The host had purchased a small arsenal of fireworks (no license needed) that were marked “Victory Day” which was celebrated back in May. Yikes! We burned a two-foot sparkler inside the apartment. Fire alarms didn’t go off. Come to think of it, I’m not sure they even have fire alarms.

Then we ate too much food. If it was an American New Year’s there would have been pizza, chips, sodas, and other greasy or food. For Russian New Year, we ate traditional salads made with dried fish, carrots, beets, and of course, mayonnaise. They sure love their mayonnaise! We also had an abundance of orange Fanta.

After desserts and coffee, we did something unlike any New Year I’ve ever celebrated. We watched TV together. This wasn’t any Times Square ball drop. This was 15 channels, each with fancy costumes, dancing, and famous performers lip-syncing, while words run along the bottom of the screen so you can sing along. The song, “Let it Snow” somehow isn’t the same in Russian, though I enjoyed listening to our friends sing it anyway. I’m told that even if you never do anything on New Year’s, you can sit in your living room with the television on and celebrate all night long.

Then out to the apartment courtyard for fireworks. Imagine a soccer field. Imagine it surrounded by four 22-story buildings. Then put a playground, a walkway, and an enormous pigeon coop in the middle. This is where we lit the fireworks. The men tried to read the directions in the dark while the women and children hid behind the garbage containers. There were Roman Candles and other hazardous materials but nothing more dangerous than our friend, whose occupation is break-dancing, trying to light the end which was covered with a plastic cap. After numerous tries, my husband removed the cap and assisted in the lighting. I felt like we were watching a video on youtube in action when there was a BOOM and several car alarms went off. This would never happen in the States, not without legal intervention anyway.

Then we went to the city center to catch the midnight fireworks. I have no idea how many people were downtown, but it was a lot. We walked around while people chanted “S No-vom Go-dom! S No-vom Go-dom!” It reminded me of the way I would shout for my Alma Mater at a football game. I had smuggled an American flag in my coat and got it out for a picture. This is just about the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done. I felt like singing “God Bless America” when midnight struck.

We walked to the metro and were pleasantly surprised when people were laughing and smiling. We tried on funny glasses and took pictures of each other. This was nothing like the work-a-day city. You could tell everyone was happy. We started encouraging our friend to do some break-dancing on the moving metro. We had a half-empty car and a captive audience. He reluctantly obliged and brought cheers and applause to the car.

We were told by our companions that it is important with whom you greet the New Year and how you are dressed. I was glad I wasn’t at home alone in my sweatpants.