Socks

I can't believe that they have this outdoor market open every day of the year, even in winter. It's up to maybe -5F this Sunday and I put on my lined coat, face mask and gloves. A few yards out the door of my apartment I start to feel the cold and realize I should have added long underwear and another pair of socks. Instead of retreating back I decide to rough it. Its about a mile to the trolley stop. I could have taken a taxi clear to the market but that would have been too easy. I want to see how the average citizen does it. Besides its more scenic this way. I also could have gone to a regular store and shopped inside where its warm. But the bazaar has multiple vendors, where if one vendor doesn't have it, the next one surely will. Everyone goes there.

I have to wait about ten minutes for the number 7 trolley to roll in. The locals have the timing down perfect. As each trolley rolls up, the people are getting there at the precise moment; no waiting at all. My hands and feet are getting cold, but that's why I'm here - to purchase woolen socks and glove liners.

The inside of the trolley isn't much warmer, except the seats! Each seat has an electric heater underneath it. My buns warm up nicely, but my feet continue to freeze against the steel floor of the trolley. We roll past the city park, where workers are busy putting together a massive winter display of trees, lights, ice and snow sculpture for the upcoming New Years celebration. This should be quite a sight when completed, and I will be sure to return and take pictures.

I arrive at the market after a fifteen minute trolley ride and immediately set about my business. The area with the most activity are the stalls where the old women sell their knitted shawls, socks and assorted warmers. I quickly find some thick woolen socks (really bootie socks) and purchase a pair my size for 180 rubles. I then proceed to find thin gloves to wear inside my regular ski gloves. At the first place I check the gloves are all too thick. The next place has some thinner ones but still a bit tight when I try them over my red and frozen hands (remember I'm standing outside the whole time while shopping). I think that's the best I'll find, so for 100 rubles, I decide to take them. I walk to the end of the bazaar to see if the peroshki lady is there. She makes them in her kitchen and sells them for 30 rubles while still hot. I usually eat one there and take a few home with me. Along with a bowl of soup, one makes a good dinner. Unfortunately the lady is not there. She either sold out, decided the homemade insulated cart she had wasn't going to keep them warm for long, or decided to retire to her sewing room for the winter (could I blame her?) I then head back for another pair of somewhat thinner wool socks which I can wear inside my boots over my cotton socks. "Skolka eta sto-it?" is the phrase for "how much?". "Schto", or 100 rubles, is the price. I pull a 100 ruble bill from my wallet and head back to the trolley stop. No waiting this time. Past city park, to my stop, and another 15 minute walk. Bursting in through the front door of my building, the floor lady asks me if its cold. I laugh. She asks if I like the Russian winters, and I laugh and say yes.

In my room, I turn on my little electric heater and proceed to warm up my new bootie socks in front of it. I get them on my feet over my cotton socks, then slip my feet into my slippers. The boys in the Gulag would probably have killed me for these socks.