I think I mentioned a few weeks ago, that with the advent of hotter weather, I walked through the market only to see swarms of flies all over the place. Needless to say, this made me more adamant about buying my food in supermarkets where produce is kept pest free and refrigerated. There may be a price difference, but it’s negligible and I don’t have people yelling “dvushka” at me all the time. (That is Russian for ‘girl,’ and in the bazaar, vendors yell it nonstop to get my attention. I consider hanging a sign from my neck that says ‘I don’t speak Russian.’)
Well, there’s also been an influx of gnats and now there are flying locusts all over the place. The other day I saw a sparrow chasing one and I was struck by the predatory nature of the sparrow. We don’t think of them as birds of prey, only those that we classify as “birds of prey” like eagles and hawks. But it was flying after that locust, anticipating dinner, and I was cheering for it. I couldn’t watch it as long as I wanted to because I was on my way to work, but it was a fun diversion if only for a minute. Today, I walked through a flock of locusts and one flew into my head. Sometimes I think I’m stuck in Exodus, and I swear, if I turn on the tap and the water’s red, I’m outta here.
The Orthodox Church
Now that summer is here and we have more time and more money (at least I do because I don’t buy as much chocolate since it’ll just melt and the heat kills my appetite, though I may end up making up for it by buying more beverages), I’ve decided to make sure I get pictures of things I want to have pictures of at site and I’m going to start buying souvenirs. I figure I can send some home with my cousin when I meet her in India so I don’t have to worry about packing them later.
All that to say I headed to the Russian Orthodox Church today after clubs. Yes, the first thing I thought of in getting souvenirs and pictures of my time in Turkmenistan (or at least, Balkanabat) was the Russian church. That’s because it’s the most beautiful building in my city. The only one with any creativity to it, which says something because it’s obviously the same design as other Russian churches you’ve seen in pictures with those puffy domes.
The woman who was working there spoke to me in Russian and I told her I didn’t know Russian, but she kept speaking it all the same. I told her I was American and she kept speaking Russian, but I’m sure it was all she knew. She was very nice about it. So I just communicated through pointing and gestures and flashing my smile and speaking Turkmen, hoping she’d recognize a few words. I went intending to buy one of the icons I knew they had for sale. The last time I had been there, there was a sign saying they were 10 manat, but the sign was gone so I asked to be sure. She answered in Russian and used her finger to draw the numbers in the air. She quoted me 50, which would be the old manat price, so I asked if that was old, again to be sure. Then I thought I recognized ten in Russian, so I pulled out a 10 manat bill and nodded my head with a questioning eyebrow raise and she nodded her head in affirmation. Then I had to decide which icon to buy. I saw one that looked like Jesus and pointed and asked “Christos?” She looked at it and informed me it was Valentine. I was stumped as I had hoped to get one of Jesus since I don’t believe in saints the way Orthodox do, nor do I know what each saint is the saint of, especially in Russian Orthodox. But then, I didn’t intend to use the icon as an icon anyway, so I decided to just get the one that I thought was prettiest and least depressing.
Byzantine art is beautiful, but often the people look really dour and have bags under their eyes. Is there something about being a saint that induces insomnia? I decided on Saint Anatolia. He seemed relatively pleasant and I thought, “Anatolia is modern day Turkey; I enjoyed my trip to Turkey, so, sure.” Such is the inner-workings of my mind. I paid then pulled out my camera to ask if I could take pictures inside. I intentionally asked after I bought something, just to make sure I was in her good graces. She said okay, so I got some good pics of the murals. Really, judging by the outside, you would never guess the inside was so ornate and colorful. I would have taken more, but there was a man inside praying and I didn’t want to disturb him. Still, it’s a good representation of the inside. Then I used my limited Russian to thank the woman and left.