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I needed to show mom Moscow. What better way than the famous souvenir market as well as the great political center called the Moscow Kremlin.

I set the GPS coordinates and off we went. I had been to the market a number of times but not through my mother’s eyes. We arrived by 10 to realize we were too early. Amazing huh! We walked by stall after stall after souvenir after souvenir. My mother kept saying how beautiful they were. More beautiful than the Taiwanese souvenirs we saw a week earlier. I nodded my head and moved on. I have more than enough Russian souvenirs to last me awhile. With that we continued to explore. The amber here. The Russian dolls there. The military goods a little bit everywhere. Did I mention military? Yes, I did. Even the American surplus stall had some. Then the next store had bullets we could buy with yet another one freely selling pistols. Oh, and the helmets too! We took the stairs to the 2nd floor swap meet; not in the CA sense but in the antique swap meet sense. I could buy old family photos, ceramics, eating utensils, shoes, brass, and jewelry. “Avant-garde” was here but the buyers didn’t care because they needed money to supplement their pensions. Kind of interesting and cool to explore but sad to see with their faces hoping someone would buy something to help them pay the rent.

We kept going to the next floor and the more “robust” climate. People also sold antiques but not with the same memories. They remembered how much the items cost them and how much they needed to sell for a profit. We, well we were interested in seeing the cute animal figurines, the weird posters, the spontaneous conversations hashing out the price and wondering if a deal was made. We settled for venturing into the artists area. We passed painting after painting stall. As we admired yet another tree and pond setting we noticed a camera crew coming toward us with their host talking into the camera. I thought to myself, they are going to try to talk to us. Sure enough the host did with his gel enhanced hairdo. In clear English I stated we couldn’t talk to them. The crew stopped in shock. How could they get it wrong that we weren’t Russian. Easy! We blended in. We “were Russian” even though we weren’t. They didn’t know what to do. I knew what to do. I walked on with mom not missing a step.

We found our painter. For a little over $30 we found our quirky painting on a simple board from a simple man. Our meal came next…however overpriced it was. Sticks of dried chicken and overcooked pork with bread a day old. The cook even tried to impress me with the “local” drink for me to say I had one in my refrigerator. Upon my return after the meal he smiled wildly at my expected pronouncement it was good. No. It was ok…and so went his smile.

We started toward the exit but I had to take mom to the “land of weddings” first. Ismailovo built a fairy tale area replete with a castle like setting. Limos one after another drove into the not so nice parking lot where brides exited walking along the gravel paths in their long dresses. I winced hearing the fabric “slide” along the dirt. They didn’t care. This was their day. People paid attention to them. The vodka flowed and the photographs continued. Love was in the air and so was the party mood! Mom…well she sat enthralled at one wedding party after another after yet another kept coming. She asked me when it was going to stop. I told her Monday. I didn’t know either. We left with our souvenirs and mom’s memories of a different Russia.

It helped mom when she visited the Moscow Kremlin the next day. The Russian culture loves tradition, weddings, and churches! What they like even more…prancing and strolling wherever they can!
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