The moment we step off the bus, we were haggled by a shop keeper who was selling underwear and socks. Immediately overwhelmed, I follow my pack of friends to the official entrance. People were bustling every which way; they carefully maneuvered through the booths while avoiding stray dogs and haggling shop keepers. As Americans, we stick out like a sore thumb and vendors instantly flock to us, trying to sell us anything and everything so that they can put food on the table. Everyone here has a brother or a friend who has "exactly what we're looking for," and street vendors are always willing to haggle because they would rather make the sale and have money than to stick to their original prices and suffer from a rumbling tummy.
As I try to avoid tripping on the uneven dirt walkways, my eyes are busy taking in all the sights. My ears are still ringing with the Russian art of haggling, and my nose still smells the scents of pastries from a local vendor. We were greeted with "Good Morning" all day long, as Russian vendors attempted to lure us in with the little English they know. Everyone wants and needs your money.
We found rows and rows of Russian style boots for cheap because they are imported from Russia's friendly neighbors--China. Brittney, Anya, and I spent all morning looking for American style boots at a Russian price... which is apparently more difficult to find than we expected. The girls met the guys at a marvelous little cafe in a nearby mall. It was strange because we watched the street vendors safely removed from the third story. It was as if we were witnessing a World Vision commercial on the TV. It would be so easy to come to Russia and avoid seeing the real Russia that exists beyond the facade. Here in the lower city, dogs roam free and the streets are unpaved. Gypsy daughters play in the streets with holes in their tights and babooshkas hold up wilted flowers as you pass by in hopes that you will purchase their sad little flowers.
After lunch, Brittney and I decided to continue shopping while the rest of the group headed back to campus. Once let loose, we headed to the jean section where vendors upon vendors begged us for a sale. At our first stop, we both find the perfect pair of skinny, European-style jeans. The sales person hands us our jeans and she gestures to the table in her booth. When in Russia, do as Russians do! So Brittney and I step into the small booth and squeeze behind the mid-sized table that is covered with piles of jeans. Good news: You're mostly covered. Bad news: You're mostly covered. The first time I tried on jeans the Russian way, I had some hesitation. But after the third pair, I was stripping down with no problem.
As we were shopping, Brittney started talking to one gypsy family. Sooner than later, her Russian mouth got her in trouble. Three Russian grandmothers, one clueless American (me), one pantless Brittney and one desperate Russian man. It was a sight that words cannot accurately explain. Brittney's Russian tongue lashing right back at this Russian man--pantless and still somehow full of venom. We eventually scampered away only to find a relative of the above gypsy family who disclosed our location. Near the end of this little adventure, Brittney is circled by five Russian men who ask her questions in a language I do not understand. I eventually take her hand and we start running down the dirt alley ways out of the open air market.
We make it back to the first vendor, quickly buy our jeans, and then head home from our twelve hour shopping extravaganza. Exhausted, we quickly shower and eat dinner. We then attempt to rest up for the night events to come... Our Russian friends, Nikita and Eugene want to take some Americans to a nightclub.
Russ, Mike, Brittney and I leave the dormitory around 9 pm, we meet up with our Russian friends and dance literally ALL night. We ended up leaving the dance club at 5:30 am. We sleepily walk to the bus, and we watch the sunrise as we get back onto campus. I crawled into my bed around 6:30 am, and I couldn't stop smiling from all the fun I had on the longest Saturday ever.
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