My little Russia
How soon do you start missing your country, if ever? I start doubting this feeling of homesickness can be attributed to a conscious, mature person. With years and little pieces of experience one starts realizing humans are humans everywhere in spite of all the artificial differences, one starts looking above the culture. I start recognizing this too, but at the same time I physically feel the windy emptiness in my heart every single day. I suppose, it could be because of the closest people only, but not really - I feel better when surrounded by unknown Russian people. I could assume this is because of the weather and atmosphere outside, but not really - somehow-similar-Scandinavia only makes me depressed. I might suggest this is because of the language, but the best Russian songs and poems in my mind only make it more difficult. I still have to figure it out - what is it - русский дух, где Русью пахнет? I guess, it's all about the complex of all the above-mentioned things, but to be honest it's more about a great love towards yourself, since you are closely associated with this culture in your own eyes. I mean, I noticed I start promoting Russian books, music and even (!) Russian films. Perhaps, they are good, but for sure don't deserve being pushed so much. It reminds me of a hidden form of pushing yourself - look, I try not to lose my identity here! I have lots of things do boast with! I am proud I know these pieces of art, of world-known art. So, in reality, subconsciously, it is not so much a public love towards a state and a whole civilization, it is a personal love of your own ego. Still, I enjoy the fact that my ego is Russian.
I enjoyed this ego today in the so-called "Little Russia" district - the one lost in the jungles of Chinese and Korean restaurants (well, they say it's more Ukranian-Jewish, but still to me it looked Russian).
For the first time in my life I had doubts where to enter first (Korean letters make me almost feel like at home already:)). But of course I chose the right option and bough a bar of chocolate and a pryanik (though strangely nor for the rubles). What is more, it was truly a feeling of returning home - Russian ladies at the counter, Russian signs, Russian products. So close to the heart that you would never value this at home. Then came the shop with a Lithuanian shop assistant who used to live in Moscow. She asked an amazing question (in Russian, for sure):
- So, where did you graduate from?
- MGIMO
- Oh, wow! You must have a diplomatic passport and have no problems with visas at all!
If only she knew...
Anyways, she sold me a pair of jeans with 20% discount. It's nice the USSR has been so large - we can now benefit discounts with so many different people)
But the next shop I found myself in (upon the recommendation from the two previous ones) was (funny enough) called "Europe Plus" (they use the radio station logo too). I was interested in the second floor where they were rumored to be selling books in Russian. Well, what I found was something like this.
I asked a shop assistant if I could find something of the Silver Age and he started proposing (I quote) (in Russian, of course):
- Well, you know, you could put a little bit easier. I don't really understand what is a Silver Age. However, I guess I know what you mean: we have Pushkin, Dreiser and Dickens. Fine with you?
If only he knew... Anyway, I went out of this chaotic pile with my first book of Max Frei and some Soviet sic-fi author. Upon my payment I suggested that I could even voluntarily organize this pile and put the books on the shelves according to the styles and periods but the shop assistant smiled sadly:
- The Russians don't come for books. They come for the caviar.
Too bad. At this point I think: is it really that Russia I miss?