Debut.

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Yulia took me to the market at lunchtime to help me find a spring coat, now that the temperature is steadily just above zero. We walked around for an hour, yet none of the thousands of items of clothing caught my eye. In the clothes section there was a row of tents on both sides of the road, with everything from children's waterproof sports' jackets and woolly hats to ladies' fur coats. Yulia's eyes lit up when she found the jewellery tables, with dozens of beautiful necklaces and earrings. An afternoon at the market doesn't isn't all about shopping for her, the gossiping with the ladies behind each of the stalls is just as important.

We went to the indoor food hall afterwards. Yulia can't cook but she loves choosing fancy salads from the rows of tables, and finding out from the people who sell them which the tastiest ones are. Next to the salad tables were rows of spices and herbs imported from central Asia in bags or small pots, next to them were boxes with tins of coffee, jam, tea and home made honey. There was even a Z.A.O Hleb stall selling bread from the factory. Next door in the meat room wasn't so pleasant; each stall had parts of cut-up animals hung up in different ways. Every table had a pig or cow's head in the centre, and there was the sound of heavy chopping coming from behind a curtain in the corner.

Outside again on the way back I took in as much in as possible, and tried to imagine where the traders find all the items before selling them on. China tea cups that used to belong to a set, creased paperback novels, old wirelesses, kettles, underwear, bath plugs to name just some.

In the evening Anya invited me to play volleyball with her friends. They hire out the gym of their old school once a week and between eight and thirty people come, depending on how much homework they have. I felt very nervous stepping onto the court in my jeans and England football top, but after five minutes began to pick up the rules. They taught me that players move clockwise around the court in between points, so in half an hour I stood in all the positions. Using the palm of my hand was useless - and received some cruel laughs from the other side of the net - so I started to play 'properly'. That meant hitting the ball with my wrists together, and I fared a bit better once I was used to the pain. I could manage to push the ball upwards, in the hope that someone else would get it over the net on the third hit. I even served three times.

I didn't last long before leaving it to the experts and walking home. After a quick shower I went out with Liisa, to Bar Kalinin next door on ulitsa Trekhsvyatskaya. It is decorated with propaganda posters from the 1920s to 1940s. There is one from the period of prohibition, where a young man in military uniform is refusing a glass of vodka with an outstretched hand. The caption simply says "Nyet". There is an abstract round face - half green and half red - with pins in its' mouth. A different poster shows a man whispering in another man's ear; the caption says "Chatting helps your enemy". There are prints of newspapers from the time of the revolution on the ceiling, a bust of Kalinin himself on the window sill, and some of the speeches he wrote have been framed.

Liisa has only been in Russia for a week but is already scared of the shops; she couldn't find the right words when explaining something to a woman while buying shampoo, so ran away from her stare! We were hungry when we stepped outside so we walked back to obshezhitie via Olimp, and noisily made pel'meni with shashlyk sauce in my kitchen.

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Photos

The meat room at the market.
Not a pleasant place to stroll around on a saturday afternoon.