requiem for moskovichka (and blogger, too)

I've been having trouble logging into blogger the last few days, that's why I have appeared to be MIA. Fear not. I'm back. Below are some thoughts I wrote a few days ago about my neighborhood market. I'll add more up-to-date stuff soon (provided I can log into blogger again.)

On Monday, I woke up early and, for the first time, felt fully rested after a normal night's sleep. I took a shower, had a glass of pomegranate apple juice (delicious) and decided to leave the house early to stop at the market across the street. I'm running low on water and wanted a few more snacks. I saw a group of people standing outside the Moskovichka market. It looked like either a fight was brewing or maybe someone fainted on the sidewalk.

That's when I smelled the smoke. And I saw the melted glass on the sidewalk. And I saw the unconscious woman.

I peeked inside the store, whose doors were open. Black smoke had stained the walls and ceilings. Some of the glass deli cases were ruined and others were pulled onto the edge of the sidewalk. The beverages section survived in tact, but the deli, and breads, and cleaning products seemed to be wiped out.

I felt a pang of sadness and personal loss. The little corner market was my Moskovichka. After only a week it was my little market.

I carried on to the CMI library to do some work and by 2 p.m. was sufficiently hungry that I went for a pizza at Square One on Abovyan. Just as I was finishing my lunch, the skies turned dark, and a wind I can only describe as hurricane force (I think some of the trees outside the windows were on the verge of snapping in half) blew hard through the city. I could hear the distant thunder and then: The rain. It started steadily, then grew harder, and with the wind seemed to at one point be falling horizontally. I waited. And waited. Slowly sipped my Diet Coke until finally it stopped. I paid my bill and decided to head home to type up my notes.

It seems the rain came at the right time to blow away the smell of charred breads and melted glass. As I walked home, the young women who worked at the Moskovichka were all sitting outside the dank, dark store. Doing nothing, and looking very sad in their milkmaid-style uniforms.

I'm still not sure what happened. But it seems there was a fire either late last night or early this morning. I passed by the store the night before around 11 and was disappointed it was closed because I wanted to get a few things.

Now I suppose I have to start going to the Russian supermarket - SAS Supermarket -- another block over. Of course it doesn't compare to American-style supermarkets, but it is much larger than the Moskovichka, with American-style checkout counters, and a far wider selection of brand-name products. (An addendum: It also has American-style prices. Another reason to be disappoitned.)

Somehow it only makes me sadder.