2012-02-11 A Political Mystery
Today, Saturday I went on a tour of the Political History museum. A very large museum filled with many Soviet paraphernalia and other important artifacts from the era. A museum I had omitted the last semester, I made sure I attended despite being up all night… again. My 4th all nighter in two weeks somehow, does not bode well for my mental health.
It was my friend Timofey’s birthday last night and we attended a more authentic Banya to celebrate. At 5:30 in the morning we finally stumbled out. Exhausted to say the least. My old Russian friend had a depressing walk home, which I helped him get back to. He was upset that many of the people he invited did not come… to his first birthday party ever. He turned 23 and he grew up too poor to ever have a party. Now he is graduated from our prestigious university and has a good job. He was depressed that many of the people he thought were his good friends did not attend. His situation brought up a classic question; how does a man measure and judge the success of his life? Through personal success? Financial? Friends and peers? I debated it for the early morning hour commute back to our neighborhood without coming up with a solid answer.
After the Political History Museum I dragged a few people not quite yet willing to call it a day and we went to my favorite market. Not a souvenir market, or even a mall. Not a spot on any tourist guide but a good old fashioned Saturday flea market in the middle of nowhere. Sifting through the literal kilometres of nonsense, from crates of remote controls to boxes of random boots, from fur hats to silverware, anything anyone found and thinks they can make money off of shows up here. Kilometres of stands. All dedicated part time shopkeepers willing to stave off the freezing cold for a few extra rubles.
My friends sitting on the bus back to our campus thanked me for a real true Russian experience, with local natives, in a shopping area not meant for foreigners, as we looked through our treasures that we managed to haggle for. Kathleen managed to slowly and arduously pick out a collection of old coins, all from the Tsarists period before the downfall of the Romanov family, almost a century and a half old. David bought a few authentic (and after research, quite more expensive than he paid for them) Nazi pins and medals. Joe scanned through piles of books and finally came across a few pocket sized handbooks with content on how to be the best Communist one could be! I of course bought the classic Furazhka, or officer’s cap. You may recognize them as the seven I bought last semester. They made the perfect souvenir for friends, and I plan on doing it all again.