ladyWendy: What was I doing there? Living for two different four month exchanges...(majored in Russian in BA and MA)....the farmer...LOLOLOL...er sorry... Well, it's like this- Keep in mind this was still the old Soviet regime and all production of foodstuffs was state owned but for a few very small private plots the government allowed people to have. Those people could only sell in a 'farmers market' (rinok). Moscow was premier city and had best of everything incl. markets so lots of enterprising citizens flew there to sell their produce/crafts. Those places had just about EVERYTHING you couldn't find in the state stores including fruits/vegetables/meats/ flowers, even carved and painted decorative items... At the time we were experiencing shortages of vast numbers of usual 'staple' for the city like sugar, potatos, eggs etc.
So I went to the big farmers market (indoor, huge hangar sized place) with a Russian couple I knew and Karina, a fellow exchangee with slightly better Russian than I had, owing to her being first generation in the states (Latvian, I believe). Anyway, this place was fascinating to me. Colors EVERYWHERE...people, sounds, smells, like a state fair and then some. I was looking at just about every table and of course, the vendors were making a personal profit so they were calling out their wares, offering little tastes...very exotic atmosphere.
I wandered a bit ahead of the others and was stopped at the stand of a grizzled old Uzbeki farmer (and son). He had about three teeth and his Russian was very hard to follow, heavily accented. But he kept grabbing my arm and offering me tastes of things. Well, I really didn't understand him, but as so often happens with language students, I just smiled and nodded nicely, braids bobbing with my head. Well, all of a sudden he's dragging me behind the counter and whoa! I am totally stunned.
By then, Karina had arrived and was listening to part of this exchange- Farmer : blahbabblegobbledygood, yes? yes! Me: uh, sure...smile...yes..uh?
Karina starts talking to the guy, he points to his son, I'm still clueless and nod and smile- he shoves me toward the (ugh!) son....Karina grabs my arm and she and our Russian friends PROPEL me out of the whole damn rinok (market), farmer yelling after us. So, breathless, and miffed, I ask "What did you do that for?!" My Russian friends are looking embarassed but amused. Karina finally answers: You just sold yourself to that Uzbeki farmer. Then agreed to breed his son's heirs!
ACK! You could have knocked me over with a feather....snicker...ahhhh to be young and totally clueless again! LOL!
Cloudy
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