Market day

Sunday one of my colleagues/housemates and I took an adventure to a huge market very near the Uzbek border. I dare say the weather is warming. Even if we have a blizzard now, the days are longer and it won't keep us down. In the market, where we spent four hours and maybe saw 1/10 of the whole, it was freezing. The roof keeps the sun from coming into the stalls, and the stalls are made of rows (even stacked) of old Soviet containers.  

H bought running shoes ($10 for reasonable "Nike") and a sweater. I went for a fur hat and shearling vest. My two purchases are likely to be regional but most things in the market are from China. The mark-up (and quality) is considerably less than at home.  

I wish the transition between here and Wal-Mart, the Frontier Mall, or the Mission District of San Francisco was more abrupt. Somehow with one month under my belt, it seems normal. It's normal to only count to 10 and ask How much? in Russian and spend the rest of the time being stared at, but not hustled, mixed in amongst thousands of Central Asian-looking people going between narrow lanes. A blind man singing, a gypsy girl begging. (Though I still never know how to handle those things and probably usually get it wrong).  

These are the containers/a closed shop

This hat has a huge tail, an unfortunate 

twist on the Davy Crocket fashion.

I wish I could have been here when it was a camel 

serai, but it's still pretty amazing to be here now

Even though this is only 200 miles from where I lived from 2008-2010 - imagine winding up so close in a whole wide world - culturally it's very far. Seventy years in the Soviet Union left their market. I am the frumpiest girl in the office with my bottom-covering tunics. But at least now I have a fur hat.