Marzipan and Novgorod

Shocking development: I may be in love with a candy store. My affair with marzipan, that almondy, sugary manna from Heaven (or Germany, depending on trade laws), lists among my downfalls. I would probably sell a kingdom for a lifetime supply of marzipan...But this kind of obsessive, self destructive love isn’t necessary anymore, because marzipan clearly loves me back. The Krupskoi candy store now sells little marzipan fruits--I go there and buy two daily, as well as assorted Russian chocolates. Marzipan clearly makes the world go round, because it has introduced me to two new friends (well, acquaintances, but I adore them since they enable my marzipan habit). There is the younger candy store lady, and the older one; to me, they exemplify all that is good and sweet about Russian women. They tolerate strange linguistic mistakes (or just plain mental failures: I can’t seem to wrap my mind around the metric system and keep ordering hundreds of kilograms of candy instead of grams). But most of all, they now greet us with a sincere smile as we meet them, and they have begun asking questions about us. My day is always made better when I get to have a conversation with my marzipan ladies-- by now, they know exactly what we will buy, and grin as we sheepishly ask fro more marzipan. Their unfailing pleasantry and growing genuine interest reminds me of what I love about this country: Russia is committed to a sincerity of feeling, not to keeping up appearances. 

(A side note to any bakers who might stumble across this. Chocolate roses exist....why not marzipan roses??) 

Do not tell Krupskoi Chocolates that I am seeing an unnamed shawarma place on the side. But woman cannot live on marzipan alone, and so Samantha, April and I have begun our pilgrimage to the mecca of meat that is this shawarma place. They know our orders by now (without vegetables, with potatoes) and our faces. The boy sees us, grins, and grabs lavash to start making our shawarma. The girl who works the cash register has warmed up and asks us about our days, and teases us about always ordering the same thing. She is another example of the warm heart underneath that aloof Russian expression, and I enjoy knowing enough Russian to slowly see these genuine moments coming to life.

My host Anna is perhaps the best example of this sweet, giving spirit. She put the most effort into giving me a lovely birthday...although it was the strangest birthday dinner I have ever eaten: Russian sushi, complete with cream cheese. At least she didn’t buy me the chocolate sushi rolls, or the bacon wrapped sushi, or the sushi with pizza...

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The old town of Novgorod had only been besieged twice in its long history, and successfully taken only by the Swedes and fascists. That all changed on June 28th, which marked the invasion of the brides...and me. I don’t have photo evidence of the women in white, but the other members of my group can vouch; apparently marriage at historical sites is quite popular in Russia! I enjoyed watching a Lenin statue preside over one marriage in particular (mainly because of all the “Soviet Union” jokes I knew I would make...)

Perhaps it is the Church of St. Paraskevi responsible for all this. In local myth it is supposed to bring good luck to girls; I ran around it three times, as one must do, before actually realizing that ‘good luck’ probably just meant marriage to the old Novgorodians... Either way, the ladies of the city were wandering about in holy matrimony!