My first Maslenitsa, part 2

I wrote earlier about my introduction to Maslenitsa at a local grade school. This weekend I got to field-test my cultural knowledge. We started “easy” on Saturday. I did homework in the morning while Alla went out to explore. She called me to say that she’d found a fabulous book fair on her way to the outdoor festivities, the fair was wonderful, and I should meet her there.

Before heading out, I checked the unreliable thermometer I stuck outside our kitchen window. Plus five (C)! I really liked the idea that it was above freezing because I could wear a light jacket instead of my shearling coat and I’d be a lot more comfortable at the indoor book fair. I was a little troubled when I hit the street, and realized that I was only dressed OK if I kept moving. No problem so far, however: I kept moving.

I certainly did enjoy the book fair. Usually, it’s hard to find particular books to buy here because each book store has a different selection and you may have to visit a lot of stores before you find the book you really want. But the book fare had many vendors and publishers’ representatives, and it really was a fairy land for readers. We read an account in the newspaper about a guy who took his vacation stipend down there, spent it all, and figured he’d have a really great vacation sitting at home with all his books. We bought a few too, but not a vacation’s worth.

Things got a little dicier for me after the book fair. We walked over to the Palace of Sport where folks really did gather outdoors to hang out and eat blini. Wanting to “do” the holiday properly, we ate too. Alla and our friend Irina bought blini from a well-run stand while I went off to a more casual operation that offered shashleek (barbeque) in addition to blini. Alla and Irina ate and began to wonder whatever happened to me. Finally they found me, still waiting in line, while the jolly woman making blini cooked one pancake at a time and we in line thoroughly froze ourselves. I did get my food, but the shashleek was fatty and definitely not worth the long wait. I was completely frozen by this time, so we retreated home for hot soup.

Real Russians would have been properly dressed, and certainly wouldn’t have been fooled by a flakey thermometer. As you can see, I am not a real Russian.